you're obsessed with her. the way her short hair curls at the tips. the way her long, thick hands grasps at a steering wheel or her controller. the way her deep voice slides through the air and wraps around your throat, pulling you closer and deeper under her spell. the way her muscles flex under her shirt—oh, the possibilities. every time she speaks to you, you can't help but let your eyes wander to those strong, protecting arms.
you love her, you want to be with her. but you're too afraid to ask her to be yours and yours alone.
she's obsessed with you. the way her hands easily dwarf yours. the way your eyes shimmer when excited, lights dancing in your pupils like beacons. the way she towers over you, and if she had her way, she'd be resting her chin on your soft head every chance she'd get. the way you laugh, the way you huff when you don't get your way, the way you let out little whimpers of frustration—oh, the possibilities. every time you talk, she can't help but imagine what noises you'd make if she pulled you close to her.
she loves you, she wants to be with you. but she's too afraid to ask you to be hers and hers alone.
maybe one day, one of you will give in to your unspoken desires and stake a claim on the other. Until then, you'll glare at every person who even looks in her direction, and she'll scowl at anyone who thinks they deserve your attention.
you’re hers, don't you get it?
why can't she understand that she belongs to you?