"I can't keep doing this. You're all that I think about and-" he slowly stopped ranting when he realized my lips were pulling up to a grin. "What?" he asked gruffly.
"You... you think about me?" I asked softly.
"Of course, I do!" he began again angrily, "You wouldn't think that someone who likes you can possibly think about you, would you?" he spat out sarcastically.
I furrowed my eyebrows, processing what he said. "You have feelings for me?" I cocked my head to the side, happily.
"Jesus Christ! You're impossible," frustrated, he pulled his hair.
I laughed, and pressed my lips against his.
Bronx and Venice Amour were literal opposites.
A loner and an extrovert.
A storm and a ball of sunshine.
The attraction they have on each other, like positive and negative magnets, pull them closer together faster than ever. But, the faster they crash, the greater the impact.