Mo

ended in, bringing me to the present with a thud. Everything suddenly shift

dre

isconcerting me with their brightness. I feel myself get lost in them

ong and firm. Wearing a t-shirt and cargo shorts, he is dres

all over the place, short wisps accompanied by long strands, carelessly tousled. The bangs make m

A royal blue, even, that shines in the sunlight. But the hair su

nce, trying to adjust to the incredible handsomeness before me.

eg is not bleeding anymore, covered with a t

y into the tile. A huge chandelier, crystals dancing generously just below its metal limbs, hangs delicately on a thin, gra

ll my attention f

s perfection, looking at masculine features that, at m

his hand over my mouth, "your throat is probably dry. Let me get you some water first." Hi

find a single emotion conveyed in his saunter. He seems to

the strange things

es. When I skimmed over it before, I hadn't not

ly noticeable, even by me, the queen of scrutiny, but I now can see the difference. The bright, emerald green seems to snatch the light and dis

water to my lips, gently pouring it in

barely

," he smile

s-saving me," I stutter. He lets loose a music

s a pl

ze, even one glance at his beautiful, appraising eyes causing butterflies in my stomach. The need arises to avoid this strange, alien b

on the floor, though, he catches my legs and deposits them back on the divan, the hint of a smile in the corner of his lips. I feel a tingle of a d

tell him the truth. "Th

ave! We have to find out more about ea

know more about me. His gaze tugs at mine, his expression of disappointment.

. Being liked is a privilege res

n my injuries. The joke is over. "Well, sorry. I'm leaving," I say sharply. Why does my rudeness have to

h so much devotion, is rather unsettling and strange. It is like nothing I've

ht breeze. Maybe this is all just a dream. Maybe in a matter of minutes

ce me into continuing on with this joke any longer. Obviously he is just toying with me by pretending to be attracte