Yolanda's pov
I just spilled my darkest truth and something worth running away from. He have no need to go through more with me, I'll understand if he runs away, hell, I'm running away from him for us—Chen’s steel grip, his eerie letters, the severed phalanges sent to scare me into submission. I expect Ovie to pull away, to see the fear in his eyes, but his gaze holds mine, steady, like I’m still his enigma, not a broken thing Chen tried to cage.
My confession about Chen hanging heavy between us. Ovie's arms firm but gentle around my waist, feels like a thread holding me from hiding, .
I shift, my red polo riding higher, my bare thighs pressed against his shorts, and I feel him—hard, alive, but reining it in. Unlike Chen, whose desire was a chain, Ovie’s is a poem, every touch a verse
