cigarette ends | ✎

viii.

"Mm. Doesn't sound like it."

I clenched my fists, relishing in the pain of my nails digging into my palm. "Please, Aurora. Drop it."

She was quiet for a moment, studying me with those eyes. "Fine," she finally conceded. "If that's what you want."

I exhaled a breath I didn't realize I was holding. "Thank you."

"But I'll be watching," she said before sauntering off toward the others.

✦✧✦✧

We visited a World War 2 museum next, but my mind was on one thing the entire time.

Her.

And it was driving me insane.

There were emotions I couldn't describe when it came to her. All my  rational thought disappeared when it came to those green fucking eyes that I wanted to drown myself in.

God.

What was wrong with me?

I didn't need any distractions. I needed to keep my head on straight and push through medical school so I could become a surgeon. I didn't need this. I didn't need her.

Her and those eyes.

"Casen," a familiar voice purred.

Shit.

I spun around casually as if my heart wasn't beating overtly quickly. "Laurent."

God. She looked so...

No. Shut up.

She walked up next to me, smooth and effortless in the way she moved. Without facing her, I noted the way she leaned forward to read the plaque in front of us; the way her hair fell over her shoulder and her shirt inched up above the hem of her cargoes.

"This is my favorite World War 2 plane."

"This one?" I replied, grateful for the interruption. "The P-51?"

"Mm. What's yours?"

"B-17," I answered.

Her nose scrunched up. "The P-51 was definitely better."

"Better in which ways?"

"It was smaller. More agile-"

"Smaller?" I rose a teasing brow. "That makes it better?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah. It's tiny. Like you."

I just chuckled.

"What?" she prompted. "Is that all you have to offer? I guess I was right, then."

"What, do you have an obsession with my dick now, Laurent?"

"What? Ew, no."

"Then why do you keep bringing it up?" I was grinning now, baring my teeth at her. 

"Because it's fun to make fun of you," she answered.

"Sure. Whatever you want to call it, babydoll."

"Don't call me that," she hissed.

"Then quit making size jokes." I ran a hand through my hair. "Save yourself from the embarrassment."

"Embarrassment?" she echoed.

A smirk curved my lips upward. "Embarrassment at how wrong you are."

She snorted. "The only embarrassing thing about your dick is the size of it."