Status: active
Nobody Has to Know
One little mistake.
I hate the jittery feeling in my stomach when he repositions himself, his arm sliding softly against my bare stomach. I hate the shivers his hot breath sends down my neck. I hate the security I feel with my limbs tangled between his. I hate how much I love this.
I swore I'd never do this again. My relationship began as a result of infidelity and people ended up getting hurt because of me. I had no reason to cheat again.
But here I am, tangled in the strong, solid arms of some stupid criminal who's probably way too old for me and definitely way too shallow for me. And there's no way I can sneak out because if I even move the whole hammock will start rocking and he'll wake up. The worst part? I don't want to move.
Fresh memories of last night flash in my head and no matter how hard I squeeze my eyes shut they won't go away, like they're imprinted on my brain. I remember dragging Ryan onto the dancefloor with me, telling him to ignore the stares. He'd pulled me into his thick arms and I'd buried my face in his neck, unable to avoid the staring myself. He'd made me feel safe.
"Who's that?" he muttered to me, making me pull away from the safety of his shoulder to look over at him.
Distaste rose up in my mouth and my eyes narrowed. Even the sight of that smug face pissed me off. He was neck deep in tattoos, and his ears were stretched at the lobe. He had shiny brown eyes and soft dark hair, and freckles were sprinkled over his nose. I would've found him good looking if I didn't hate him so much.
He was standing at the drinks table, handing out drinks under the supervision of the teachers on his final night of community service.
"I told you about him," I grunted back to Ryan. "He's the guy who broke into the school."
Ryan pulled me closer to him and ran his fingers through my fluffy blonde hair, and I felt comfort surge through me. It should've been Ryan I went home with. I shouldn't be in this stranger's garden, in a hammock floating above his stupid fucking swimming pool.
I don't think I'm going to survive this if Ryan finds out. Enough strain has been put on our relationship over the past year, and we even split up at one point. He wouldn't ever forgive me if he found out about this. He'd kill him and make me watch. Then he'd kill me too.
But above all that, he'd be crushed. I'm the only person he's ever opened up to, the only person he'll cry in front of. After this he'll never trust anyone again. He'd go back to being bitter and angry and violent, and I'd go back to hating myself.
The truth is going to kill him.
But really, if I'm not going to do it again, does he have to know? It was one little mistake that I'm never going to repeat. I'll carry the burden and Ryan doesn't need to know.
What he doesn't know won't hurt him, right?
I swore I'd never do this again. My relationship began as a result of infidelity and people ended up getting hurt because of me. I had no reason to cheat again.
But here I am, tangled in the strong, solid arms of some stupid criminal who's probably way too old for me and definitely way too shallow for me. And there's no way I can sneak out because if I even move the whole hammock will start rocking and he'll wake up. The worst part? I don't want to move.
Fresh memories of last night flash in my head and no matter how hard I squeeze my eyes shut they won't go away, like they're imprinted on my brain. I remember dragging Ryan onto the dancefloor with me, telling him to ignore the stares. He'd pulled me into his thick arms and I'd buried my face in his neck, unable to avoid the staring myself. He'd made me feel safe.
"Who's that?" he muttered to me, making me pull away from the safety of his shoulder to look over at him.
Distaste rose up in my mouth and my eyes narrowed. Even the sight of that smug face pissed me off. He was neck deep in tattoos, and his ears were stretched at the lobe. He had shiny brown eyes and soft dark hair, and freckles were sprinkled over his nose. I would've found him good looking if I didn't hate him so much.
He was standing at the drinks table, handing out drinks under the supervision of the teachers on his final night of community service.
"I told you about him," I grunted back to Ryan. "He's the guy who broke into the school."
Ryan pulled me closer to him and ran his fingers through my fluffy blonde hair, and I felt comfort surge through me. It should've been Ryan I went home with. I shouldn't be in this stranger's garden, in a hammock floating above his stupid fucking swimming pool.
I don't think I'm going to survive this if Ryan finds out. Enough strain has been put on our relationship over the past year, and we even split up at one point. He wouldn't ever forgive me if he found out about this. He'd kill him and make me watch. Then he'd kill me too.
But above all that, he'd be crushed. I'm the only person he's ever opened up to, the only person he'll cry in front of. After this he'll never trust anyone again. He'd go back to being bitter and angry and violent, and I'd go back to hating myself.
The truth is going to kill him.
But really, if I'm not going to do it again, does he have to know? It was one little mistake that I'm never going to repeat. I'll carry the burden and Ryan doesn't need to know.
What he doesn't know won't hurt him, right?
♠ ♠ ♠
I have too many ideas. This is the fourth story I've started in like a month.