Say I love you

11

- You know, you seem to have a good heart...- Yeah, so?- So let me hit it.I almost choke on my saliva, the words are so violent, and he notices it very well indeed, but his "I don't give a damn" attitude remains intact. I'm definitely not that perverse.A mocking laugh escapes him as I watch him gauge my facial expressions with undisguised amusement, his sparkling eyes betraying insolent confidence. "You're so transparent, sweetheart," he blurts out casually, as if reading me like an open book. His exaggerated nonchalance stings me to the core.I feel that my every move, my every thought, is being scrutinized, dissected by his discerning eyes. His detached attitude challenges me to remain calm, to hide my emotions behind a mask of indifference. For the first time in my life, I dream of being as impenetrable as he is, of reflecting back to him the image of an elusive woman.When his car pulls up in front of his house, I snap out of my tormented thoughts. My head instinctively turns towards his, our eyes meeting in a silent dance. The urge to leave this cocoon of tension and return to the quiet of my own home nags at me, but I suppress this burning desire, refusing to give in to temptation.He gets out of the car with casual nonchalance, leaving the door open behind him. With a fluid gesture, he invites me to get out by opening the door on the other side. I put one foot on the ground and follow his gaze as he strides towards his house. His athletic figure moving quietly.Just as he's about to lock his car, I hesitantly grab his wrist, forcing him to stop in his tracks. His emerald gaze settles on me, questioning, one eyebrow slightly raised. I feel the shiver of the forbidden run across my skin, but I remain stoic: "Are your parents home?"He shakes his head, a smirk stretching his lips, defiant and charming. "No, why?"I look away, unnerved by his disconcerting assurance. He pulls out his keys, a mechanical gesture yet imbued with a disturbing sensuality. One of them finds its way into the lock, the familiar click echoing in the silence as he opens the door with calculated slowness.The threshold of his home opens before us, inviting us to cross an invisible boundary between the known and the unknown. My heart races, carried away by a wave of conflicting emotions."Follow me." he says in my ear.Each step echoes in the silence, amplifying the tension between us. My heart races in my chest as I take hesitant steps forward, letting him guide me to his room."You're taking all the girls you claim to want to help here?" I throw out, trying to pierce his flippancy as we finally cross the threshold into his room."Only the pretty ones," he replies with a smirk, exuding cheeky confidence.As I wander around the room, casually glancing at the furniture that adorns it, I watch him discard his T-shirt with disconcerting nonchalance. His muscular, sculpted torso immediately catches my eye, but it's when he reveals his many tattoos that my interest is truly captivated. A majestic eagle spreads its wings across the right side of his pectoral, a symbol of freedom and power. My eyes then travel over a skull resting on a grave, surrounded by other skulls that seem to rest peacefully on his abdomen, accentuating his rebellious, mysterious aura.My eyes drift down again, lingering on her perfectly defined chocolate bars, accentuating her casual, seductive allure. And then my gaze settles on the V of her hips, a perfect line that forms and loses itself in the waistband of her pants. This subtle mark enhances her athletic figure and lends an aura of mystery to her nonchalance. His idle attitude contrasts with the palpable tension in the air. He seems aware of his charm, but wears it with a casualness that makes him even more seductive.As I continue to observe every detail of his tattoos, I can feel the tension rising, the atmosphere charged with an almost palpable electricity. His rebellious appearance and nonchalant attitude create an intoxicating contrast, making him a character as fascinating as he is unsettling.You're wetting my poor thing, my conscience tells me.When I realize I've been staring at his body for too long, I hasten to look away, my mind wandering to his sober bedroom. A small bookcase sits beside her bed, testifying to her duality between mystery and culture.- So, how far have you gone with a guy?- None of your business! I blurt out defensively, looking at him in disbelief, paradoxically arching an eyebrow in indignation, but he continues, showing me that he doesn't give a damn about my indignation and I: - I told you, Jordan likes girls who experiment, so I'll ask you again, how far have you gone with a guy?- Are you stubborn or what? I said it was none of your business.- How am I supposed to help you if I don't know anything about you?Hesitantly, I studied his indifferent face, biting my lip, then answered: -My first experience didn't go so well, I simply said, I'll never do it again.- Your first experience of what?- You know what! Why do you always have to go out of your way to make me feel uncomfortable?- Basically, you're an asshole," he asked, slumping back in his chair, "I should have known.