"The more you started showing up, the more I ended up thinking about you. My past relationships weren't going well. I just couldn't stay interested in any girl for more than a week. In the end, they were all the truly boring ones. You on the other hand, you stood up for my sister a lot, even though she was the idiotic type to keep allowing toxic people back into her life. I saw that those people would torment you or try to bully you while Giselle wouldn't do a thing out of fear. You kept at it though, for about four years. Hell, I thought it was miracle for Giselle. She had a true friend right in front of her, but she couldn't appreciate shit. Even now, she pisses me off." I chuckled at that. I can only imagine all the things he would tell …show more content…
"Yes. At the funeral, I couldn't even think of my feelings for you when Brett died. I couldn't let myself feel as excited as I was depressed knowing that you were finally free and alone. The demon in me was smiling and I was struggling. You have no idea how much I wanted to run up to you by his casket and hold you." "Oh.. Desmond that would've been-" "Disastrous? Yes. I know. His own funeral with me snatching away his love. I couldn't-" "No," I cut him off softly. "It would've meant the world to me. I had no one at the time, Desmond. I was constantly alone after he died. You were the only one I was hoping for when it came to company. We both knew him best. I was especially pissed when you never once contacted me and I tried to reach you. I was feeling like the victim.. When that was all so wrong." He stares at me with his brows scrunched together, as though in complete disbelief. I can tell he feels like an idiot. An idiot finally understanding that he was wanted. I had wanted him. Even now, I want him. "Alexandra.. You have know idea how long I've dreamt of this." He says as he moves his hand down to my neck and leans into my face to give me another tender kiss. My god, that impossible squeezing between my thighs just gets
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"Me too." She replied, tears still running down her face. For a few seconds they just stood there, accross the room from one another, staring at each other through the sparks and small fires. Then she started walking toward him, saying, "Oh what the hell, we're gonna die anyway."
“Shh,” He silenced me again, but much softer than before, “I’m happy you’re here with me. Just don’t say any more, please. I can almost go back. Holding your hand like this, I can almost deceive my own heart and pretend I’m not alone now.”
I dropped to my knees. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know he was my brother. If I did, I would have tried harder, so much harder to keep him safe. But now he’s dead, and all because I couldn’t figure out how to put these powers to much better use.”
It all started when I was 16 years old. While I was playing outside on my farm in California, I met a boy. He was an average kind of boy who teased you and then you chased them and beat them up. After that first meeting in which I beat him up we kept on meeting and beating each other up at the fence.
“No. My life could not be more anymore unimaginative. It’s just me and Liam every day, same routine, same schedule. The monotony of our lives is practically stifling. And I certainly didn’t need any more problems after the mess you’d made of it.”