Freddie Bianchi and Juliette Dupont are polar opposites.
She's hot, he's cold. She makes jokes, he takes them to heart. He's only an inch taller than her, and she makes fun of him ever chance she gets.
He calls her a dumb blonde, and albeit she's he...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The very moment we stepped into the cabin, everything was different. His words were seared against my skin the same way his tongue and hands and teeth were. I looked at him different now, even though I didn't really know what he was thinking or how he was feeling about this. About us.
I decided not to ask right then in fear of hearing something I didn't want to, and I was far too gone to think about us properly too.
The door shut behind me with a click, and the sound of my boots dropping onto the hardwood floors echoed against the hollow room. Freddie lined up the three bottles of mine and tossed the chips away, his jaw set in stone and his eyes two glowing flames. His nostrils flared once he caught my eye, and I pulled my hoodie from my body, and then my sweater.
Then my sweats.
My sock covered feet padded across the floor to the sink where I tried to occupy my restless, anxious mouth with a glass of water. I leaned against the counter, taking small sips as I watched the man across from me.
His eyes were on his watch, his head bowed and that miraculous brown curl hung between his two eyes.
And then, they snapped up to me. My breath halted into a screeching point, my throat restricting the water from moving down my throat.
"Is that my shirt?" His voice was a deathly low noise, the sound crashed against my chest and sent my heart toppling over itself. I slowly nodded.
There was a faint sound that came from his throat before he stepped back from the counter across from me, and kept my gaze as he slowly pulled the flannel from his wide shoulders. He dropped it to the ground, and then his hoodie followed and he only had a black shirt on that painfully stuck to his skin, almost so perfect you'd think it was made specifically for this man.
With one ring-clad hand, Freddie pushed the tendril of hair from his face and used one of my white hair ties to tie his hair back. It was bordering painful to look at this man now, because he was so beautiful and he was so fucking unobtainable.
Or so I thought.
He sauntered towards me, his pace slow and I found myself watching his every move. The way he rolled the silver ring on his thumb, the slight cock in his head, the condescending way his eyes moved over my body.
His cologne cocooned me gracefully, and his strong arms caged me in. I couldn't fucking breathe.
"I'm a fool," he mumbled, his voice a deathless whisper. "A fucking fool,"
After forcing the mouthful of water down my throat, I questioned him, "Why?"
His eyes searched my face, the setting sun behind me casted a soft yellow glow to his brown skin, lit his eyes on fire. The corner of his mouth curled into his smirk and he bent ever so slightly, now matching my height and face perfectly. His mouth was centimetres from mine, I could smell the previous cup of coffee and mint gum on his breathe.
