there’s a locket dangling at her throat — a photo of her childhood dog, and another of her mother. ava touches this, as if they’ll guide her, as if they have something to say. she feels the engravings … she feels where some of the silver has tarnished from touching it so much. she turns — nikki is in her bed, beautiful, stunning, and ava can’t bring herself to do much more about it. mouths are kiss swollen, the after tastes of tequila and ava’s cherry lipgloss still lingering. she hates this. not nikki, not lying next to her, but just not knowing how to answer. fuck. she doesn’t want to wake up the next day, feeling like shit, knowing that : “i like you. a lot. i don’t want us to be strangers. i just don’t know what to do about it.”
“ we’ll be strangers in the morning, won't we? ” / @w1shwillows