• 𝒘𝒆𝒔𝒕

“Everyone will be surprised we’re back together.” She rumbles, her voice lower as her hand slips just under his boxers, feeling the warmth emanating from him, her strokes along his pubic bone meant to be teasing. “I’ll have to remind everyone you’re mine.” Her folded legs +

She knows he’s creating this perfect world for them, and she appreciates it. This isolation. This focus on him. But she can’t fully leave the past behind. “Trina told Robbie, and Robbie texted me there might be some thing. To celebrate the ‘saving’ of Hollywood Arts.” +

She takes the pen from him, enjoying enough drag, shifting closer to him so she can nestle into his side, using his chest as her pillow. With how warm and comfortable he is, she’s more than happy to swap the pillows for him. “We all went different places. It’s not a +

Her eyes follow the smoke billowing out of his lips, the haziness of whatever he’s smoking settling over her like a comfortable blanket. She could her used to this. “Sometimes it was fun. Other times I wanted to bash my head in a wall.” She supposes when she looks back at +

Her head knocks back against the piled pillows, creating her own little fort beside him. One of her long, bare legs cross over the other, her foot bouncing to an imaginary rhythm. “I told you you don’t know everything about me anymore.” It’s not a melancholy statement, just +

She hikes his shirt up to the point of nearly obscene, walking across the bed on her knees until she’s flopping down beside him, comfortable and scrunched. “Oh, I’m never letting you forget that,” she promises, throaty and pleased, flitting the pen in-between her fingers like +

“If you’re smoking, you have to share.” She strides in, running hands down her sleep-addled face, his shirt hanging loosely around her body, just skimming the tops of her thighs. She doesn’t even ask, snatching the pen out of his hands and taking a willful hit, eyes make-up +