• Perfect Storm • | 26 |

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November

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November

(3 days later)

My eyes flutter open, warm sunlight shining over my face. I sit up and stretch my arms.

I look to the side of me and notice that the bed is empty besides myself. I stand on the cold wood floors and walk over to the sliding door. I walk out to the balcony and lean against the railing.

The cold air brushes against my skin, the soft sound of the wind blowing relaxing me in an instant.

This is something I could wake up to every morning. Something I could get used to. I love the city, sometimes, but most of the time I feel like I'm suffocating, I can't breathe and I feel like everything is closing in on me.

Here it's like there are just miles upon miles of fresh air that's constantly circulating. I feel like I'm never breathing the same air. It's refreshing.

I'm taken out of my thoughts by the sound of drilling and loud hammering.

What is that?

I walk back inside and follow the sounds as they get louder and louder the closer I get. I reach a room with a glass door that's foggy so you can't see inside.

I push it open and gasp at the sight in front of me.

"Oh my god," my hands go to my mouth. I look around the room and a toothy smile begins to creep onto my face.

Lewis looks up at the sound of my voice.

He stands up straight, a drill in one hand and a screw in the other.

It's a dance room. There's a huge mirror that takes up an entire wall, a pole stands tall in the middle of the room. On either side of the pole, there are things I haven't even tried yet. On the left, there is a long piece of fabric that bundles up at the ground and on the right, there's a hoop that hands from the roof. Around the room, there are exotic looking plants, a bar, and a strip light that goes around the entirety of the room.

I turn in a full circle, taking in everything the room has to offer. The more I look the more I see, everything is placed so thoughtfully and neatly.

"Do you like it?" he asks, his voice soft as if he's scared of my answer.

I turn my attention to him, and instead of answering I walk over to him and kiss him with my whole being. He doesn't hesitate to kiss back.

I feel my cheeks start to soak in salty tears. He pulls back just slightly. Enough to see my face.

"Your crying," his face is one of defeat. "Tears of joy, I promise." He smiles and wraps his arms around my waist, pushing his mouth back onto mine.

Every emotion that was felt, every tear that was shed, every word that was said is poured into the kiss which quickly becomes more lustful and heated as he pushes me against a wall.

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