TWISTED DREAMS

5. What is wrong with me?

Dahlia Fucking Harper.

In front of me. Wearing nothing but two small pieces of clothes.

Red bra with laces and net that slightly showed her dark pink nipples. Bra which embraced her perfectly lift up breasts tight. Her stomach hollow and narrowed down her hips. Her skin tone made every tan on her body hDahlia Fucking Harper.

In front of me. Wearing nothing but two small pieces of clothes.

Red bra with laces and net that slightly showed her dark pink nipples. Bra, which embraced her perfectly, lifted up her perfectly tight breasts. Her stomach hollowed and narrowed down her hips. Her skin tone made every tan on her body highlighted.

Carved collarbones, detailed columns of neck and jaw, breasts not so big, not so small but perfect for my palms. Long, toned legs with thick but flexible-looking legs and

That waist! That fucking waist.

Curvier than the sphere, tinier than my thigh. I bet I can fit her waist into my palm effortlessly.

My eyes scanned her body like I'd scan my freshly done sculpture. Like, I am craving to give it a final touch. Like, I want to measure every curve of it once again before I leave it.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" Dahlia grudged but did not cover her body like other girls would do in such situations. She stood confidently as she is. As perfect as she is.

"It's my house." My voice is cold, but my heart burns. My attention was getting distracted by that tiny yellow sponge box-printed panty she was wearing on a red, expensive-looking bra.

"It's Sofia's room!" She crossed her arms on each other, looking all sassy or at least trying to be sassy to hide her embarrassment. That's what she does. She doesn't step back.

"Which still is in my house." I tried to keep my attention on her whiskey eyes. I don't know the reason behind why Dahlia is in my house in her underwear, but it simply looks like a coincidence.

A bad coincidence.

.

"Whatever. Get outta here. Now." She rolled her eyes, pointed at the door, and told me to leave.

Am I getting thrown out of my own house?

I don't pet anger or offense or grudge, but this girl—

This girl makes me go crazy.

Not because she annoys me but because her presence makes me go crazy. The way she is makes me lose my fucking morals. My fucking patience.

The more I try to avoid her. The more I think about her.

I hate it.

.

Normally,

I'm serene. Patient. And calm.

But with her,

I'm troubled. Impatient. And unsteady.

.

"It's my house, Lia." I affirmed while walking towards her. Her eyes widen as I stop in front of her face. She refused to walk backward even if I kept walking forward. "You don't tell me what to do!" I gave her the death stare she deserves.

I don't particularly have a problem with Dahlia, but we have a history of incidents that I don't want to recreate. I don't want her to be on my mind all the time. I don't want anyone to control my life again.

I'm frustrated because I want to avoid Dahlia. I'm angry around her because I don't know what exactly I want from her. I hate it when I don't want to look at her, but my body can't resist.