Maybe if I prove to her that I am not weak, she won't reject me.
Hell, who am I kidding? She'll probably see right through it. There's no denying it.
Once I'm steady on my two feet, she lets go of her tight grip on my arm and puts a foot of distance between us. I almost whimper out loud at the loss of her touch, at the loss of pleasurable tingles and sparks.
"Careful," She whispers softly, and I shiver visibly in delight, at the first word — besides 'mine' — that she's ever said to me. I stare dumbfounded as her face—the face that was hard and cold moments ago—softens ever-so-slightly and her eyes crinkle at the corners, betraying that she's feeling at least a tiny bit concerned for me.
The conclusion makes my heart leap, a feeling of happiness I haven't felt in a long time enveloping
