Emerald eyes.
A ton of freckles.
Heart shaped face.
Messy auburn curls.
Exotic chocolate and milk skin.
Everything could be summarized into just one word.
Her name—Layla.
And it felt like a dream.
Who would have thought that I would end up in a closet at a party?
And also along with one of the most popular girls in my school?
Somebody pinch me!
My heart was palpitating so fast, faster than my entire body could handle.
I was tempted to reach up and clutch my chest to keep it in place.
But I controlled myself.
Her emerald eyes settled lazily on me, her gaze intense and burning.
Blood rushed through me.
She was setting me on fire.
But she only took one long lazy look at me and simply rolled her eyes.
"You've gotta be shitting me," was all she said before a scoff followed.
I said nothing because I felt like she had just called me pathetic but with euphemism.
She sighed softly and then leaned gently against the walls of the closet.
She closed her eyes.
It was pretty dark in the closet which was lit by a single light source—a dingy bulb.
I stood staring at what I could make out of her amazingly pretty face under the light.
And from my memory.
I leaned against the opposite end of the closet and battled my desire.
I didn't want to be consumed.
And it was hard.
We were just quiet for a while.
But, the silence we slowly becoming uncomfortable for me.
I couldn't say for her.
I couldn't let this opportunity go to waste.
I needed to say something if I didn't want to stand in silence for ten minutes.
Then suddenly...
"Are you scared of the dark?" I asked her out of the blues.
Her eyes flew open.
She gave me a weird look.
"Seriously? Is that your opener?" She asked me with an irritated scoff.
"It was just a question," I murmur a reply with a meek voice.
I should have just stayed quiet.
I saw her roll her eyes rather dramatically in the dim lightning of the closet.
She took a deep breath.
Then, she exhaled.
"No, I am not scared of the dark—I just think it is annoying when idiots ask stupid questions in confined spaces."
A smile slowly curved my lips.
Was that her way of flirting?
Was her love language aggression?
She crossed her arms and tilted her head, giving me a judging once-over.
I didn't mind at all because I had been checking her out too, earlier.
"What about you? Would you perchance cry if I turned off the light?" She teased.
I quirked my brows at her.
"I probably will," I said with a lazy shrug. "I see demons in the dark."
She raised an eyebrow.
She looked to be unimpressed but mildly entertained by my dramatics.
"Oh wow, so original."
I heard the underlying sarcasm.
"Demons?"
She made a tsk sound.
"Cute."
She leaned in a little and my heart rate was quick to spike without warning.
I bet she could hear how hard my heart was thundering inside of my chest.
She lowered her voice mockingly.
"You know, there is something that is far scarier than having demons?" She muttered.
Confusion wrapped around me.
What did she mean by that?
"And that would be?" I asked.
I watched as her lips slowly curved into what was a loop sided smirk.
It looked pretty on her.
It made want roar through me.
"Well, that would be being stuck in here with you pretty little thing."
She straightened to her full height.
She was tall.
I liked them tall too.
"And why?" I pushed.
"Probably because I am greater than whatever demons you have sweet pea," she said.
Her voice was too sweet.
Mawkishly sweet.
It sounded so false.
And yet so right.
Still, it sent quick but different signals to several parts of my wanting body.
They titillated where it needed to and nearly left me gasping out loudly for more.
This lady was a vixen.
I looked up at her.
And the look in her eyes told me that she knew exactly what she was doing to me.
"I have been told several times that my sarcasm might be too deadly," she admitted.
I agreed with her.
"Lethal infact," I murmured.
I watched a smug grin creep onto her face as she reached out.
She flicked the light switch off.
It was a good thing I wasn't actually scared of the dark or I might have panicked.
The light was gone for about half a minute before it came back on.
"You don't look scared sweetie," she teased me with an evil snicker.
I shrugged nonchalantly.
Though my insides were spilling with need and want, and pleading loudly for her touch.
I badly wanted her hands on me.
No, needed was the correct word.
I wanted those abundance of fleshy milk jugs pressed into my chest.
I wanted her lips on mine.
I needed to be deeply connected to her in every way that was possible.
I needed to hold her, to inhale her scent and breath her in like oxygen.
She seemed like she was quintessential, tantamount to life.
And I craved every bit of that.
"Probably because you are here?" I gave her an answer that might satisfy her.
She made a tsk sound.
"Maybe, or maybe not," she whispered as she flipped the switch once again.