mariana isn't like any of the other girls. falling over their heels to be with him, to be photographed with him—even just for a night. somewhere along the way he fell for her. but they fell into this pattern. a very fucked up pattern. constant flirting, dismissal followed, then teasing, taunting tabloids. jealousy, and he'd fuck the hurt away. just like he did the other night. sweeping it under the rug until the cycle repeats. he offers an unspoken and ultimately temporary truce. “ you're coming to paris. ” it's not a question, not even a little bit. he expects her to say something about it, she wouldn't be mariana otherwise. but it's for phoebe's birthday. she couldn't say no. “ i'll save you a seat next to me on the jet. unless you wanna sit on my lap, babe. ” he leans back casually as his grin spreads wide, legs splayed as he pets his thigh.
@literare
