Glass Butterflies Chapter 8 [Aylah Snow]

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Chapter 8


Aylah Snow


"Holy shit Trace, you scared the holy hell out of me" I breathed.

"Sorry" he sighed.

I placed a hand over my chest. I could feel it beating really hard beneath my skin, I genuinely thought my chest would break open and my heart would pound on to the floor. My breathing stifled and slowly began even out.

I felt somewhat exposed in my present state. My hair was ruffled, my normal frizzy bed head, a little tangled but down. It hung down my shoulders and down the middle of my back, the tips trailed to the top of my hips. Trace's shirt was baggy and the sleeves were really long, but the bottom hem only reached half-way down my thigh. And enough of the buttons were undone to reveal some cleavage but not a lot to make me look skanky. My pale skin looked un-naturally white in the dark, like I was a glow in the dark sticker or something.

Trace's eyes washed over me approvingly. He looked like an angel, a ruffled angel. His ash blond hair was sticking out at random angles. His impressive torso was very well toned. He definitely had the muscles but they weren't bulgingly obvious and hideous. In fact they were just right. His grey sweatpants hung low round his hips. I continued to pour over Trace's appearance.

That's when I noticed him watching me look at him. It was disgruntling. I dipped my head down and began to concentrate on the floor. My comfort zone was the floor. Whenever I felt embarrassed I always looked down to make sure it was still there. My hair fell down the side of my face and made a curtain, one of the reasons why I kept it quite long. I began to focus on my feet. I could feel my cheeks heat up and begin to burn my skin. Crap I was blushing. That's twice Trace has done that, but why, boys have never had this effect on me, just Trace. I could feel his eyes imprint on my body.

"Ok stop it" I shot my head up and faced him dead in the eyes.

"Stop what?" he smirked whilst mocking innocence.

"You know what just fucking stop it" I growled.

Our sweet moment seemed like a distant event that hadn't even happened to me. He was back to his cocky ass self and he knew it.

I had enough of his smirking face looking at me. I rolled my eyes and made a 'ugh' sound as I walked back to the bed and sat on it.

"Want company?" he asked

"Does this company come in the shape of someone who is cocky and so up his own ass that his insides are upside down?" I grimaced.

"Might do...depends on how you treat my shape" he walked, or rather strutted, forward in a flirty manner. And he winked.

Oh he didn't just do that. But just as I opened my mouth Trace began to speak.

"Is that really how you look at me? Someone who so up their own ass? And cocky?"

"That's exactly how I see you" I sniped.

I stared at him intensely. In that instant I saw his eyes flash away to the photo on his dresser then back to me. I felt a tiny shred of guilt inside. I looked down at my hands. I could feel myself heat up again, but not from humiliation, but with anger. I was well within my right to snipe at him, it's the truth. My brain thought frantically. It didn't make me feel any better. I began to ring my hands nervously.

"I wasn't always like that" he spoke after a while of staring.

I swallowed harshly.

"In that picture is my sister. Gentle and sweet. Wouldn't hurt a fly. And really delicate. She was pure goodness, it's a shame more girls were like her. She had the biggest heart ever. Then she had it broken"

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