Page 40 of Broken Pieces
Fuckme,thatwasa stupid thing to do.
My head won’t let the memory go, and my body sure as hell won’t either.
I’m still hard from that fucking kiss, and no amount of pacing, no number of angry thoughts will untangle what that moment left behind.
My pulse won’t calm down either.
My body is wound too fucking tight, coiled with a need that ignores every command I throw its way.
I shove my fists deep into my pockets, jaw locked so hard it aches, every step heavy with a weight I can’t shake. The pavement stretches ahead, but I keep moving, pretending I am steady, that I am not seconds away from turning back around just to have another taste.
I tell myself to breathe, to drag my mind anywhere else but there. To shake her loose from the hold she has over me.
But it doesn’t work.
Because the second she stepped onto that rooftop, the second her mouth brushed mine, the whole world cracked wide open, and I can’t shove the pieces back together no matter how hard I try.
I’ve kissed girls before.
Too many.
Some were a blur I barely remember, bodies pressed together in a corner at some party.
Others I wish I didn’t remember, their hands clutching at me, their mouths hungry in a way that left me empty.
But none of them ever tasted like her.
None of them ever made me feel this way before. Made me want to close my eyes and keep that single moment nailed to the inside of my skull so I could replay it again and again.
And fuck, I hate that I crave another hit of her.
My hand drags down my face, fingers scraping over stubble.
I should have pulled away sooner. Should have shut that shit down before I let things go that far. Not with the one girl in this whole fucked-up town I shouldn’t be touching.
She sleeps down the hall, close enough that her presence is a constant fucking torment. Her bed only a door away, her hair spilling across the pillow, and I’ve pictured her there more times than I’ll ever admit. The curve of her body twisted in sheets, the soft sound of her breathing in the dark. Every night she’s close enough to turn sleep into torture. She’s the temptation I can’t shake, the one that wrecks me without ever lifting a finger.
But the second her lips pressed into mine, every reason not to vanished.
She’s always been beautiful.
I knew from the second I walked into that hellhole we call a home a year ago and fucking saw her. One glance and I already hated myself for wanting her.
Girls at school trip over themselves to get close, chasing that bad-boy story, convinced they can fix the mess or brag about the scars. They blur together, nothing worth remembering.
But Skylar… fuck, she’s different. She doesn’t fall at my feet.
She stands her ground, spits fire back in my face.
I watch her when I fucking shouldn’t.
I’ve memorized the sound of her laugh, the way it bursts out when she finally lets herself laugh for real. The way her eyes linger on me when she believes I’m not looking.
Only, I am always paying attention.
She makes me want things I swore I never wanted. Things I don’t let myself even picture. I am ruined by a girl I haven’t even touched yet.A girl who should never get tangled up with someone like me. Because if she does, she burns. And I will be the one who sets the match. Because I know I am not good.
People have hammered that into me for years. Screw-up. Lost cause. Broken beyond fixing.
