Page 179 of Tall, Royal Hater
You’re amazing little menace and you’ll be amazing at whatever you decide to do next and I’ll always support you
Dickhead:
I hope you don’t think my silence was the end of us because it’s not
Dickhead:
I know I fucked up and I know you’re angry but I’m going to make it right no matter what it takes
Dickhead:
I never want us to go back to the way we were
Dickhead:
I can’t do another five years of not touching you or being close to you and pretending I want nothing to do with you
Dickhead:
I want everything to do with you
Dickhead:
You’re my little menace
Dickhead:
You drive me insane but I’d never have it any other way
Dickhead:
Give me a few days to sort myself out but know that I am coming for you and I will gladly say all this to you again
Dickhead:
I’ll earn your forgiveness I promise you
Ihad a thick scarf wrapped around half my face as I exited the train station on my way back from work, but rather than waiting for a bus to go five stops, I decided to walk home and take advantage of the cozy, festive end-of-year atmosphere that I loved so much.
The December evening was ice-cold and gloomy, but New Year’s lights had been draped across streetlamps, and winter stalls were set up in squares and parks all over my home city, Brinsley.
By the time I reached my apartment complex, I was shivering and wished I’d gotten on the bus instead, but I still felt good in some sense of the word.
Emailing my resignation to HR and finally seeing a route out of my job felt like being pulled from the quicksand I’d been stuck in for months, convinced I was going to drown in it.
My anxiety at going in diminished significantly, and though my manager was still useless and threw tedious tasks at us the day before the deadline, I managed to push through with sarcasm and positivity, knowing I had two weeks until I’d be gone.
But that lightness dissipated when I rounded the corner and found a man standing outside my building, leaning against a black car and staring at the pavement under a lamp.
My feet and heartbeat stuttered to a stop. Even under the dark sky, I recognised his side profile. Something akin to relief and hope and satisfaction that he’d finally shown up quaked through my belly. For a second.Only a second.But then I released the breath trapped in my lungs, and all that fluttery anticipation transformed into a peevish, sneering monster of the night.
It’d been a week and a half since I’d returned from Touma. For the first five days he’d been radio silent, and I’d been livid. After his string of messages, that anger had softened into hurt and annoyance with a frustrating undertone of longing, which pissed me off even more. But fuck him if he thought he could just turn up and I’d forgive him oh-so-easily.No fucking chance.
Angling my chin up, I strutted down the street with cold confidence.
At the sound of my boots clicking against the pavement, Shehryar looked up. And stilled. And straightened off the car. His eyes roamed up and down my body like he hadn’t seen me in months, starved, admiring, and yearning. And my stupid heart started galloping in response.
You little bitch, calm down. We’re angry. Be angry.
