body relaxes on exhale . twisting slightly in the seat , her foot catches the outside of his leg and yet , despite the pinging sound that rattles in her head , she doesn’t move , instead , lets the limb rest against his . as if to say : it’s okay , i’ll listen . he’s different , like this , the cock sure persona she was already so used to , the one that seemed to simmer in the air and aggravate her in the best possible ways , was a slow simmer in comparison to the almost vulnerable son that sat beside her . the space between them was far , and still , his hand brushed against her arm , and she let him , the fingers of her free hand , one not used to prop her cheek , slips beneath her own bicep to gently touch at his fingers . a new softness brewing quietly . ❝ that’s such a shitty thing to deal with . ❞ she murmurs , barely audible above the humming motor against the water . she lets his words linger , for once not questioning his motives , because to do that was to slice a knife through whatever bubble they’ve quietly created and she didn’t want that , later was a time for questions , later was a time for playful . this was real . ❝ tell you something ? ❞ paused for a moment , she glances to the water . she had so many stories , so many things she could babble on about , but they were hers . and she wanted to share them .
❝ before my dad —— before he died , we had a tradition , i don’t know when it started , but presumably when i was a baby , but after every single game we’d wait . my mom and i , wait and wait and wait , until the area was empty , not a sound , not a soul . ❞ eyes flicker back to him , coasting the way his hand presses the wheel , the new , almost icy water breeze catches a wayward tendril , before settling back on his face as a slow smile breaches her mouth . ❝ and then my dad would drag the pair of us on to the ice , in skates and play his favourite song of the week , month , whatever . it didn’t matter whether he won the game or they lost , our tradition stood . he used to say it was because there was two places he belonged , the ice and with us . ❞ there’s a furrow of brows after she stops . a sort of melancholy dripping into features despite the smile that lingers . layla was lucky , luckier than most to have what she had , but that didn’t stop the sting of it all .
jbbartram-illu
yousharknotpass
areudirty
pixelskylines
vaporwave
