. you

[percy de vane]

It starts out with a kiss, not sure if you could call it a kiss. It's more of a need to the both of us now. We're sitting on the couch, mere inches apart. My fingers instinctively move to her knee, lightly brushing against the exposed skin. The tele is on full blast but neither of us are paying attention to its contents. She's leaning into me now, her lips look delicious..my mouth watering just to have a taste. Those cherry red lips begging mine to just graze them. I'm trying not to lock eyes because I know what comes next. We always fucking do this. Whether it be my flat, her home, or even a less classy location. I don't know why she makes me so nervous when we're this close, only the two of us. Not gunna show it though, not even giving her the upper hand. I imagine she can feel it too, the electricity or connection we have. A hand rests on my thigh, preferably too high for my liking at the moment. Resisting is the simple key. Her lips attach to my neck, a sweet spot she's grown fond of. It's completely over now. I tear her lips away from the spot on my neck and my lips urgently land on her. The same kind of urgency reciprocates from her own mouth. Manicured fingers slip under my shirt tugging it off and the next thing I know I'm pulling her underneath me. She's laying in my arms on on my couch. We aren't speaking, only sound is the traffic outside, the light television noise and our heavy breathing. It's not awkward, not by any means. We're so comfortable around each other that this is usually how we fall into place. Her clothes are scattered across my living room, out of the corner of my eye I can see the lacy black bra she was tempting me with. Chuckling, I kiss her forehead. She hums into the kiss and is sitting up now, reaching for the blanket that's always been across the top of my couch. She wraps herself in the blanket, and in me. Adjusting herself so she's more in my lap than ever before. A few times before I've heard her mutter it was her favorite spot, she felt safe. Annie Scott could probably ruin me. Scratch that, she actually is ruining me. The way she struts around in her six inch red louboutins, the smile that the brights up a room and maybe even her annoying instagram comments. There's that saying, something along the lines of, "birds will come and go." My dad reminded me when I was new in the dating scene. Always told me to never mind girls, that they had a fucking mind of their own. Bloody hell, was he right. I don't think she falls underneath that particular category especially not with the hook she has in me. Annie just isn't some bird. No matter how much she gets under my skin I can't shake her out of my head. I have to shake her out of my head. She's laying her head in my lap when the show comes on. Who enjoys watching their own show? Well Annie does, she's pretty passionate about it. Not as much as her reruns for America's Next Top Model however. It was around the time we were together, her 19th birthday. I remember the night vaguely, only because I was fucking plastered out of my mind. Her best mate Maggie fell ill as well and Annie decided to take a leave from her own party to tend to her friend. She's gone completely incoherent, and eventually passes out. Drunk Annie happens to be one of my favorites. Her kisses become sloppy, she's very touchy but all together completely irresistible. That's why I can't really blame Nate. I've been in his spot before. Those tanned legs straddle him and I can't bear to even continue watching. Annie grows still in my lap, the fingers that were once running up and down my arm come to a stop. They kiss. Finally, I break the unusual awkward silence between us. A single cough escapes my mouth, the uncomfortable kind. She tries to speak to me, possibly tries to explain herself but I'm not giving her the opportunity. "I think it's best you leave," are the only words I can speak to her at this point. Her voice is getting louder, more desperate. She's calling my name but I'm slowly starting to tune her out. She wants me to hear her out, the only place I want her is out. Percy, she's crying. I can't stand to even hear her. "Don't fucking call me Annie, I can't deal with this right now." Hope she's doing well. With Nate, Cillian or who fucking ever. So I'm here at a pub, I went home. I couldn't take being in the same city as her. Mum's got the same childhood bedroom for me, all ready for me - I can stay as long as I want. Even have my own personal driver who happens to be sitting across the bar from me. Watching my every move to make sure I don't kill myself tonight. I've probably had about six or seven pints, I lost count as the fourth one was soaking into my veins. A couple of lads bought me some shots, said I looked like I needed it. I imagine I look like hell and the psychotic paparazzi are outside. They're trying to get a peek in at the train wreck I'm slowly becoming. Haven't talked to Annie, it's been three days I'd say. Maybe even more. Caroline's contacted me, but I don't want her. I don't want anyone but Annie.