• He buried his head in her neck breathing her in, Tony felt like his heart was going to fall any second, like he was going to wake up now. He clung to her body,
afraid if he let go
the dream was going to end. •
...
There were two ways I was debating on sending this story. Finish it in chapter thirty. Or go down the rabit hole. I believe by now you can guess which one.
But no matter, no matter.
This is a filler chapter. I guess a— digging the hole kind of chapter. I felt like their relationship needed a little more story and spice to it. So here it is my loves.
And please, vote, it means so much to me. xxx
————————————
"I'm not used to being loved, I wouldn't know what to do."
f. scott fitzgerald
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I opened the balcony door. Air. Breath. Count to fucking ten.
My body was restless. I was taking in way too much breath. Breathe less. How the fuck am I supposed to do that?
Jesus Christ— fucking—- shit! That little shit.
"Lainey—" I jumped at her touch.
"I really— I don't wanna talk right now." Nat had a guilty pity sorry look in her face. She didn't say anything.
I could read her. I saw it. She was thinking it. She was debating. Asking the question: what did you do Lainey?
Why does everyone need to think I'm such a doing person? Because you are. Everything I do needs to be a calculated, precise saying, move, action. I opened up the box and lit up a cigarette sighting looking outside at the night sky.
I wished to be that night sky. To be so... filled. In the presence of everyone.
"Romanoff!" His voice rang from the hall. I watched everyone leave the conference room, taking a peak at the most interesting person this evening. Myself.
Nat squeezed my arm. "I'll wait up for you." My face remained expressionless as I stared at him. How could he? Why? Why? What was the point? What did I do?
I waited. Everyone left. Everyone. Except... him. He was still inside. I'd left him sitting there, staring at the screen.
I couldn't face him right now. I didn't want to. But as I held tightly to the balcony I heard his footsteps echoing in the marble floor. I held my breath waiting for him to speak. I heard him sniff. He was angry. I could tell.
"Turn around." I felt tears in my eyes. I turned around biting my lip. He was facing the wall, jaw clenched, one hand in his pocket the other scratching his beard.
