Unspoken Fires
Krystal Ryland agreeing to be friends felt like a weight off my chest. I hadn’t expected it to work, not really. But after that night, after that conversation in his car, things… changed. The tension that had stretched thick between us loosened. The sharp edges dulled. He wasn’t avoiding me, wasn’t cutting conversations short or acting like I was some f*****g disease he needed to get rid of. And for a while, it almost felt normal. Too f*****g normal. At first, I thought I was imagining it. The way his gaze lingered a little too long when he thought I wasn’t looking. The way his hands hesitated whenever we were close, fingers twitching like they itched to grab me—to touch me in ways no one except him ever should. The way his jaw clenched so f*****g tight I thought he might break teeth
- Writer
