@whiskshe said : ‘ it’s like i’m cursed or something. ’
it isn't like her to be so open. well, no — that's not quite true. on most things, whiskey's an open book, a proverbial fount of opinions she never gets to state until they're alone. it's just not like her to talk, especially disparagingly, about duke. until now, there'd been an unspoken agreement that his name wasn't to be uttered in this apartment, a sacred space for whatever debased desires and frustrations the two needed to work through.
she isn't facing him. the satin sheet is draped lazily over one bronzed shoulder, golden tresses catching the earliest rays of sunlight permeating the gaps in the curtains. brow furrowing, he inches closer until he's pressed up behind her, eyes drawn to the light glinting off the necklace he'd bought her the day before. there might have been a time long ago when he felt guilty for going behind his friend's back, for greeting him with bold - faced lies and an award - winning smile, knowing the small woman beside him had been straddling him the week before.
but that was then and this is now, and he's come too far to ever embrace any remnants of the man he used to be.
' cursed? ' he parrots, lips hovering near her ear. the faint scent of his cologne still lingers, a musky sandalwood and birch. ' here's what i think. i think duke just can't appreciate what you have to offer. i mean, i love the guy, but he's a little tripped out on testosterone. so you're not cursed. you're just stuck with a brick wall for a boyfriend. '
