His hand lay across my stomach as he slept soundly. I entwined my fingers with his and breathed through the warmth that seeped through my chest. Such a simple, sweet thing to do, yet holding hands in bed was incredibly intimate.
Maybe that’s what I needed. Another tattoo. Some pain on the outside to ease the pain on the inside.
And without my consent, with my defences in ruins, while my brain was sleeping, my stupid heart went and fell headfirst into love.
My last thought before falling asleep last night was a realisation that I was falling in love with Andrew. Well, not me exactly. My stupid, traitorous heart.
I think he won a tiny piece of my heart that day. If he didn’t have the whole damn thing before then, he certainly had part of it now.
I kissed him softly and left my lips pressed to his for a few beats of my heart.
When I opened the door, Andrew was standing there like a remedy for heart palpitations. Or maybe he made them worse. It was hard to tell.
My tattoos, like most people’s, were reminders, badges of personal experiences. Yes, I might wear them on my skin for the world to see, but their meaning was a little too personal.
Silent tears are the worst. It’s the sign of a broken spirit. No sound, no residual emotions… just tears. Silent, unstoppable tears.
They should love you, just as you are. Parents should love their kids, right?” “You’d think so.
I’m surprised I could actually talk with how much I was grinning.
I glanced back to Yanni to see him smiling at us. “You two can stop being so cute now.” “Well, Spencer can,” Andrew deadpanned. “I, unfortunately, am cute all the time.” I laughed. “It’s true. He is.
I have a black belt in sarcasm, and my wit is like lightning.