It always ends

Fourteen

His lips twitched, not even, but he let my question remain unanswered. I rolled my eyes in annoyance but the skip in my heartbeat suggested otherwise.

I thought back to all the times he'd surprise me, taking me out on cute random dates.

Like the time we went to an abandoned building and wrote our names together on the walls. Or when we went to our little spot by the big tree and had a picnic. He laid down, resting his head on my lap, listening to me as I read to him.

I remembered the time he took me with him to get a tattoo—my name with a butterfly.

I smiled at the memories and I knew he was staring at me.

"What?"

"Nothing. I was just thinking about you." I said in a playful manner but I meant every word.

He shook his head in amusement, chuckling quietly, "Always."

Still smiling, I looked down at my lap. I just had to tell him, "Do you remember that tattoo you got?"

"Elaborate."

I blushed as the many tattoos covering his toned and muscular chest flashed in my mind.

"The one you got for me."

"I have a lot of those."

I was about to just nod and brush it off when I let his words actually sink in. I wanted to laugh, I knew he was joking. He was... right? "Really?"

He only nodded and waited for me to continue. I couldn't stop the cage of butterflies being opened in my stomach and chest. I was sure he could tell by the grin that touched my lips.

"Can you show me which ones?" I asked.

"No."

My smile dropped. A frown pulled at my eyebrows.

I cleared my throat and offered him an awkward nod, "Well anyways, as I was saying, do you regret getting it. Them, I mean."

"No."

I couldn't help it anymore. I laughed loudly, "Why do you have to be so tense and boring all the time."

"Are you bored of me already?"

"Definitely not."

"You called me boring."

"You're boringly intriguing," I replied honestly.

He was never one for words but somehow, that pulled me in. He always intrigued me. Even when we were together. I would always want to try and figure him out.

He was all about short responses, never really started the conversation, a listener. Which was a bit funny because I loved talking.

I think I could talk for hours and he'd just sit there, listening, not minding at all.

I knew he was trying to be better for me but when I got too close, he pushed me away and I got hurt. We both did.

Something I never had anticipated.

And that was the thing about him. Unpredictable, dangerous. I should've been more careful, his aura screamed "stay away" but that made me want to stay with him even more.

I mean, his best quality was that terrifying, emotionless and stony—but hot, look he would give people.

And the smallest flicker of emotions was reserved for me.

"Meaning..."

"You're like a mystery and I'm the detective."

"How so?"