Territory
|| Contents || whipped bf, love, fluff, relationship, boyfriend pov.
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She said she'll take ten minutes.
It's been 45.
I sink back in the car seat, leg extending forward as much as I can.
I can't believe that little menace fooled me to sit in the parking lot while she gets her nails done.
Ridiculous.
I should have known. Seen that coming.
My phone has given up on me, the network is barely catching a single bar.
So I find myself scrolling through my gallery.
Very manly. I know.
It's all her.
One on the bed, hair splayed across the pillow, shirt lifted enough for her soft tummy to spill.
Another one, she isn't looking at the camera, brows furrowed as she tries to put a thread through the needle.
I had bet she wouldn't be able to.
I had also, won.
God, she gave me the silent treatment for two hours, I nearly lost my mind.
I don't know when my lips tugged in a smile.
Sitting alone in a stuffy car, smiling like a fool at my phone because my girlfriend is pretty.
Lords help me.
But I don't really wanna be helped.
Another fifteen minutes pass with me staring at pictures of my woman.
Like I'm a war widower.
Like she isn't 20 steps away getting her nails done.
"pathetic," I murmur to no one in the car, but swipe to the next picture anyways.
Eventually my phone decides to die on me.
Because today I'm being abandoned by everything.
First my girl, who tricked me.
Then myself for being so pathetic in a car park.
And now my phone.
Great.
I rest my head back against the leather seat, eyes dropping closed for a second.
Because her pictures do two things to me.
One, they remind me what a lucky bastard I am.
Two, they make it difficult to sit in tight spaces because now, my jeans are two sizes too tight.
Wonderful.
Eventually my gaze traces the passenger seat, where she'll come and sit like she owns the car, which, true — she owns me.
Fuck, when did I get so whipped?
Then my eyes lock onto her clutcher.
Hung loose on the seatbelt, the blue large claw clip she adores.
I realise it's been there for days.
Maybe more than that, in that exact position.
My eyes narrow.
If it's her favourite, why is it hung on the seatbelt instead of holding her pretty curls up?
It takes me a minute. Two.
"Bloody hell," I breathe
I let out an amused huff as my mind finally decides to catch on.
"You're marking territory, aren't you?" My voice echoes in the empty car.
You couldn't pay me to stop grinning right now.
I'm gonna be staring at that clutcher a whole lot from now on. No doubts about it.
She's a possessive gremlin.
And before I know it, I'm stealing a pic. Evidence purposes, of course.
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