THIRTEEN
My heart kicks hard against my rib cage, a violently fluttering bird that has nowhere to go, nowhere to escape to.
Russia looks at me, his eyes a darker blue hue, and we’re so close, we’re practically sharing the same air.
It feels inevitable, too, that we’ve both come to this very moment, like we were always meant to be here together even if I have doubts, even if I’m not sure about him a hundred percent.
But God, I want, and I want, and I want, and I’m tired of playing it safe.
Life is pain, in one way or another, you just have to learn to live with it, and I’d like to think I’m better at it than most.
“Would you let me call you meelaya, Sophie?” Russia moves even closer, close enough that when I lick my lips, I end up licking his lips, too. Russia groans deep in his chest
