He may have had the most gorgeous lips I’ve ever seen. They were moist and bright red. His skin was pasty white and soft. He was a phantom off a movie poster. He was celluloid and cellophane. And he was the cutest boy I’d seen in years. Tropical heat has never been a match for my internalized ice.
There was that moment when I woke next to him in my bed. I felt like I was standing at the top of a ocean cliff and with one swift move I could easily dive in. The magnetism of his arms felt so strong and powerful I had to consciously make an effort to stop myself. I laid glued to my side of the bed. As strong and as gruff as I appear to be, this nagging vulnerability was wrapping its claws around my neck.
