LILA
The wine arrives. Deep red, smooth as velvet, probably costs more than my rent. He lifts his glass and offers a soft, "To us," like we've always been a fairytale instead of a ticking bomb.
I clink my glass against his, taking a small sip. It burns and soothes at the same time, just like him.
He watches me over the rim of his glass. "So... what do you like, Lila?"
LILA. He's calling me Lila, not Little hornet.
I pause, caught off guard. "Like in general?"
He nods, setting his wine down, fingers casually tracing the rim. "Yeah. I want to know everything. What makes you smile, what makes you mad. What you dream about. What you hate. What you love."
Lola is practically doing backflips. And I'm still in awe on what makes him so f*****g different. I needed to be damn sure that he wa
