could I forget?”
“People tend to forget me. It’s in their nature.” My heart breaks. I believe his words, believe people do. What fools they are. What pitiful, shameful fools!
“Never.” My head shakes back and forth. I want to touch him again, but I don’t get the chance as he turns his head and finishes tagging my name. I just stand there and watch. He adds a black rose, a black rose the same as he added last time we were together. I understand it better now. He’s black, and I’m the rose.
“I want to touch you,” I say, now inches from his back. I can smell him. He smells deliriously delicious. I want to hold him, bury my head in his chest and listen to his heart, taking in his scent all day.
My hand reaches out, his body turns around. My hand touches his chest and his eyes watch mine, I notice the restraint he’s holding. I’m barely touching him, my hand only feathering his chest. I don’t quite understand it. Understand how someone could not want the basic human instinct of touch. He seems to think it’s poisonous. A touch that seems painfully real to him, like my touch will inflict nothing but pain.
My hand holds tighter, clinging to him even more. I take a step forward. Closing the distance between us, his hand places itself on top of mine, holding me to him. His now dark green eyes with dark specs through them don’t look me in the face. He looks anywhere and everywhere but at my face.
My second hand goes up and I place it above his heart. He flinches and steps backward so fast that I’m left standing with my hands in the air.
“We can’t do that,” he says, walking away, back to the car. I look back at my name, then the rose. A smile forms on my face, and then I follow him back to the car.
We drive in silence. He stares straight ahead, never sparing me a glance. I can’t keep my eyes off of him. He gives me butterflies in a good kind of way. His looks, his mystery, his presentation. All of it draws me in, and again, I think it’s the cliché bad boy thing I’m looking for. I double guess myself, because I don’t even see that when I look at him. I see a man, a man who cares, even when he shouldn’t. A man who’s broken, but will fix others. A man that hides in all his blackness, even taking the name to seem deadlier, which I’m sure he doesn’t need.
“Liam,” I finally say his name, that name hasn’t left my lips for ten years. It feels good. His head swings to me, and his face tightens.
“It’s Black,” he says, correcting me, then turning back to the road.
“Not to me you’re not. Just Liam…” I smile, feeling giddy. Why does he give me those feelings? He catches me smiling, shakes his head, and turns into Casey’s driveway. He stops and doesn’t move, doesn’t even turn the car off.
“I think it's best if we don’t contact each other. Lose my number,” he says, keeping his eyes peeled ahead. I open the door, stepping out. I turn to him before I shut the door, but he doesn’t look at me.
“Not happening,” I reply. His head swings to me and I slam the door and walk to the front door. I hear him pull away with a tire squeal just as I open the door.
“Where have you been? I’ve been ringing you non-stop,” she cries, wrapping her arms around me. She seems worried, it makes me feel wanted that she may actually care more than she did previously.
“Didn’t take my phone. No one usually cares where I am anyway.” She pulls me back, her face now in my face. Sax is behind her and shakes his head at her, but smiles.
“Of course I care. For all I know, that fine piece of ass could’ve taken you to the woods and chopped you into tiny pieces,” she huffs out, releasing me, crossing her arms over her chest.
“He does have a fine ass, doesn’t he?” I smile, which pulls a smile from her.
“Yeah, and all that dark and ‘don’t fuck with me’ exterior actually makes him that much hotter.” She fans herself dramatically and Sax grunts from
“People tend to forget me. It’s in their nature.” My heart breaks. I believe his words, believe people do. What fools they are. What pitiful, shameful fools!
“Never.” My head shakes back and forth. I want to touch him again, but I don’t get the chance as he turns his head and finishes tagging my name. I just stand there and watch. He adds a black rose, a black rose the same as he added last time we were together. I understand it better now. He’s black, and I’m the rose.
“I want to touch you,” I say, now inches from his back. I can smell him. He smells deliriously delicious. I want to hold him, bury my head in his chest and listen to his heart, taking in his scent all day.
My hand reaches out, his body turns around. My hand touches his chest and his eyes watch mine, I notice the restraint he’s holding. I’m barely touching him, my hand only feathering his chest. I don’t quite understand it. Understand how someone could not want the basic human instinct of touch. He seems to think it’s poisonous. A touch that seems painfully real to him, like my touch will inflict nothing but pain.
My hand holds tighter, clinging to him even more. I take a step forward. Closing the distance between us, his hand places itself on top of mine, holding me to him. His now dark green eyes with dark specs through them don’t look me in the face. He looks anywhere and everywhere but at my face.
My second hand goes up and I place it above his heart. He flinches and steps backward so fast that I’m left standing with my hands in the air.
“We can’t do that,” he says, walking away, back to the car. I look back at my name, then the rose. A smile forms on my face, and then I follow him back to the car.
We drive in silence. He stares straight ahead, never sparing me a glance. I can’t keep my eyes off of him. He gives me butterflies in a good kind of way. His looks, his mystery, his presentation. All of it draws me in, and again, I think it’s the cliché bad boy thing I’m looking for. I double guess myself, because I don’t even see that when I look at him. I see a man, a man who cares, even when he shouldn’t. A man who’s broken, but will fix others. A man that hides in all his blackness, even taking the name to seem deadlier, which I’m sure he doesn’t need.
“Liam,” I finally say his name, that name hasn’t left my lips for ten years. It feels good. His head swings to me, and his face tightens.
“It’s Black,” he says, correcting me, then turning back to the road.
“Not to me you’re not. Just Liam…” I smile, feeling giddy. Why does he give me those feelings? He catches me smiling, shakes his head, and turns into Casey’s driveway. He stops and doesn’t move, doesn’t even turn the car off.
“I think it's best if we don’t contact each other. Lose my number,” he says, keeping his eyes peeled ahead. I open the door, stepping out. I turn to him before I shut the door, but he doesn’t look at me.
“Not happening,” I reply. His head swings to me and I slam the door and walk to the front door. I hear him pull away with a tire squeal just as I open the door.
“Where have you been? I’ve been ringing you non-stop,” she cries, wrapping her arms around me. She seems worried, it makes me feel wanted that she may actually care more than she did previously.
“Didn’t take my phone. No one usually cares where I am anyway.” She pulls me back, her face now in my face. Sax is behind her and shakes his head at her, but smiles.
“Of course I care. For all I know, that fine piece of ass could’ve taken you to the woods and chopped you into tiny pieces,” she huffs out, releasing me, crossing her arms over her chest.
“He does have a fine ass, doesn’t he?” I smile, which pulls a smile from her.
“Yeah, and all that dark and ‘don’t fuck with me’ exterior actually makes him that much hotter.” She fans herself dramatically and Sax grunts from
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