twisted beautiful things

xi. vow

'feelin    l   o   n  e    l  y    in this room since i was seventeen

thought this  b o t t l e  was supposed to drown my memory 

but i'm still  s w i m m i n   in your vision and it's tempting me

now w h e n   i   c a l  l   im hopin that you'll answer me

baby im a f o o l , baby im a  f o o l  for you...'

(russ).

>>>

xi. vow

amir

I'm not sure if it's the sunlight that wakes me up the next morning, or if it's the pair of strong arms crossing over my body, holding me still against a warm chest.

My eyes flutter with early morning laziness, taking in the room around me.

Immediately I shoot up into a seated position, the arm of the boy next to me sliding off my waist.

Thousands of thoughts crowd my mind in that moment, as I blink to register the events of yesterday.

Elsie's death. The bar. The girl introducing me to this boy next to me, Connor. Stumbling to his apartment.

A shudder runs down my spine as the image of the bow-legged man flashes through my mind, inciting chills and goosebumps on my bare skin.

I remember trying to tell Connor, but he couldn't see what I so plainly could. And then I remember how I forgot about everything as he kissed me and kissed me and kissed me until the wee hours of the morning. We must've fallen asleep a few hours ago, exhausted from the night's events.

Connor's room is small but comfy. He's got a dark desk made of oak wood, the flat surface covered in papers and pencils. Our clothes are scattered all over the floor, mixed in with piles of books and newspapers.

His tall chestnut wardrobe stands in the corner, which gives the room a sort of cramped feeling. Sunlight streams through the thin cream-colored curtains. The light makes me panic and my eyes find the alarm clock on the edge.

Noon.

I don't have classes until one, but I need to go home, shower, and change. I groan out loud and wince at the headache I feel slowly creeping up on me and I stand, hurrying to throw my clothes on.

"Hey." A voice says as I throw the shirt on over me.

"Hey," I say without turning around, hurrying to straighten myself.

Oh Lord. I have to face my father today. And although I can say I was at Atticus' house, he would see right through me.

And I hate lying.

"Is there something wrong?" Connor asks, sitting up in bed, the sheets falling to his waist, revealing his pale chest.

I shake my head. "No, I just have class in an hour and I have to go home and-"

"Oh shit." Connor checks the time on his phone. "Okay, yeah, go. Will I see you again?"

I hesitate by the door, captivated by his big green eyes that hold me in place. My eyes trace the curve of his jaw, the soft paleness of his collarbone.