rosietommasi:
Maybe it was due to her being an only child, being adored by both her parents, flaws and all. She grew up close as she could to them, living in an RV for pretty much her entire life with them meant no real alone time. So Rosie couldn’t deny that being doted on was something she lived for, the craving to have someone like her was one that was never satisfied. She didn’t like to feel forgotten about, or like she wasn’t enough, so she poured herself entirely and built homes out of people seeing as she never really had one until she was eighteen. But right now, with the way Sterling laid eyes on her, intense and unmoving, she felt her body tingling a warm current that the alcohol surely was ramping up. A small smirk spread up into the corner of her plush lips, shrugging as her head lulled to the side, “Maybe.” Rosie admitted in a smooth, taunting tone of voice as he extended a hand to help her down.
And she took it without a second thought. Sterling didn’t seem like he was all to serious about locking her down after one night, and after the shitty ass week she’d had, she deserved to have a free night of doing whatever the hell she wanted. Hopping down off the counter, she smoothed out her skin tight dress and tossed her hair back over her shoulders. Even in heels, she didn’t compare to his height, and she glanced up at him with the tiniest smile, “And you seem like a man of your word.” She confirmed, teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she glanced down the hall, and she wondered for a moment what people would say if they saw her dragging him into her room. Wondered what Fox Watch would say, what Patch would think. Patch. Anger boiled beneath the surface of her skin, and she nodded at his question while she rolled her shoulders back and moved in front of him to begin walking backwards. Her fingers toyed with his hand as she swung his arm back and forth slowly, “it’s right down that hall, actually. Care for a tour?”
“I’d love one,” Sterling replied, and his voice somehow managed to sound smooth despite his nerves, despite how true the statement was. He wanted more than flirting, more than always looking and never touching, more than barbed wit. Following her at an equal pace - letting his feet drag a little so he wouldn’t appear too eager, despite his galloping pulse - he let her guide him without looking away from her. Her unadulterated attention was headier than the shots they’d downed, the gravity he’d always felt for her constantly pulling him in.
“Private tour?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow, a smirk lifting the corner of his mouth in a self-assured way that implied he already knew the answer. He didn’t - not truly, and he wouldn’t assume - but just like much of high school, he’d keep acting more confident than he truly felt, right up until it wasn’t faking it anymore. And he’d always risen up to her challenge, gone toe to toe with her confidence and refused to back down. “VIP, clearly.” Her fingers felt cool and light against his, and brushed his thumb against the back of her hand.















