MARIGOLD |H.S. AU|

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

His lips on my neck is the perfect feeling I needed to wake up to. The soft pressure of his mouth leaving open, loose kisses against my skin. His strong shoulders wrapped around me, his chest against my back. It's warm and it's comforting.

His mouth is creeping closer to my face, his wet and smooth lips teasing my jaw repeatedly. I moan out in relaxation, exhaling in the pleasure I feel from his touch.

His hands snake around my waist until they are pressed on my stomach. His fingers dance down and tease me, getting closer to where I need him to touch me, like he did so well last time. My breathing starts to pick up, eager for him.

But we're interrupted.

An alarm goes off, waking me up from my sleep.

I let my eyes flicker open and rub my eyes.

I was dreaming about him. That's new.

And I have to see him today, fucking amazing.

After his little Fleetwood Mac comment last night, I couldn't really understand why he was so giddy about it. So, he heard me playing music, we both like Fleetwood Mac, so what?

I've got a show today, and I'm fucking exhausted.

I don't know why I was up until about 4am last night, I just couldn't sleep, my brain won't rest when he's clouding my every thought. I was searching about Marigolds all night, their symbolism, where they grow, why people see them as such significant flowers. I even got onto some weird medium website about why people feel spiritual connections towards flowers. But to me, it was a load of bullshit.

All I can think about is his long curly hair, his deep raspy voice, his fingers and how they roam freely on my skin so easily, finding my sweet spots without even having to think about it. It's like my body calls him, he craves to touch me as much as I want him to.

We can't communicate, and any time we try and have a normal conversation, most of the time it ends in us telling each other to fuck off.

But when it's good, it feels like I'm exactly where I'm meant to be, which is fucking ridiculous, as I've known him just over two weeks. I just can't explain it.

I don't like him, his personality is fucking irritating as hell, he's an asshole, he's cocky, he's too fucking mysterious, and he has some sort of God complex where he thinks everyone should worship at his feet.

He's rude, and selfish, and he thinks I owe him shit.

But now and then, he says things where it just makes me think; "Yeah, he's right about that" and it makes my body erupt with goosebumps, and it's a feeling I never want to forget, something I don't think I'll ever be able to replace.

But I still hate him. He's so annoying and smug, and I always feel like he's saying one thing, but he means something completely different.

I force myself to get up and drag myself into the bathroom, splashing my face with water and pulling my hair out of the messy top knot it was in.

I brush my teeth and put some moisturizer on. I tend to stay away from skincare, just using water as my skincare routine, but when I'm away from home and in the sun a lot more, I keep it simple with a light moisturizer.

I walk back into my room and throw on some baby pink gym leggings and a black tight tank top, letting my hair fall loosely down my back.

I don't even brush my hair before going to a show, they usually sort everything for me, which is super easy and relaxing for me. I just have to show up and walk down a catwalk with different clothes on. Makes my job ten times easier.