Scintilla: a tiny trace or spark of a specified quality or feeling.
> 4 in #bestfriend
> 2 in #teenlove
Sparks. He definitely made me feel sparks. Sparks of worry, infatuation, admiration, agitation, frustration and more.
He was my childhood best friend. It was a love story meant to be. Our mothers were best friends in high school, got pregnant at the same time, gave us matching names. It was meant to be perfectly cheesy. He was supposed to be my Prince Charming, but slowly, he turned into my villain.
His secrets which changed everything.
From friends to strangers, strangers to friends, friends to lovers, lovers to strangers, strangers to... something indescribable.
"When do you leave New York?"
I purse my lips, holding back my agitation. "Why should I tell you anything? Theres no point, you'll just leave again."
His hand slides against the brick wall to grip the back of my hair. He clutches it and pulls back. His hand on my throat goes to catch both my hands, holding it in a tight grip. He leans his face in into my neck, breathing me in.
"You're going to listen very closely Ells." He pauses. The sounds of sirens faded, rain pattered around us, echoing in the abandoned ally. "I'm not a good guy. I'm bad. Very, very bad. But you," he tugs my hair back a bit more. I watch him from beneath my eyelids. "You're good. You're so good. I can't have you. I can't!" He shouts and hits his hand against the wall beside my head. His breaths were wild and heavy, he looked crazy.
Warning: Innuendoes and some steam.
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