too young for this

chapter 21 | stop blushing, idiot

I close the bathroom door behind me, punching my fists in the air excitedly.

We kissed. We. Kissed.

I look at myself in the mirror, noting the beam on my face. Then I furrow my brows.

No. I cannot be giggling over a boy.

Especially not when, first off, I have killed someone. The police are going to fucking skin me alive if they find me.
Second of all, I know nothing about Jamie. He could literally be an axe murder or arsonist and I've just made out with him.

But then again, our kiss was better than any romance I've read, I wonder what more intimate touch would feel like.

I fix my tangled black hair into a messy ponytail and smoothen out my clothes which have been pinched and pulled in about a thousand different places.

My lips are still tickling pleasantly, pink around the edges. Even I can admit I look slightly hot.

Shit, I'd maybe want me.

I get out of the bathroom and see Jamie's sitting on the floor, propped against the wall.

He watches me lazily and I resist the urge to slam onto him again. My core tightens as I look at him carefully.

He's so fucking hot.
Hair in messy waves, falling over his brow. Brown eyes taking me in.

Picking me apart like the first time we met.

I walk slowly towards him but my feet feel funny, as though filled with sand.

His lips part into a smile, holding out his hand towards me. I take it and he pulls me down to sit beside him.
I look at him, our faces so close that we share breaths.

"I," I spell out, "like you."

He tilts his head with a bubbly laugh that I could get drunk on. "You don't have to tell me, Cam, I felt it,"

I shake my head, fighting a smile, "Fine." I take his hand in mine, interlocking our fingers. "I just thought, that maybe you'd want to hear the words."

As I rest my head against his chest, he stiffens slightly. I pull away. "Wait. Do you not like that?"

He wraps one of his arms around me, hugging me closer, "You're perfect."

I let my head slump and simply take the moment to take him in. He smells incredible.
Yeah, it's weird but, what the fuck?

Then his chest rumbles as he repeats, "You are perfect," he repeats.

I frown.
But I'm not.

Instead I say out loud, "You are an idiot."

He gives a slight laugh, kissing my forehead softly. "I am."

"But," I add, "idiots are my type."

"Are they?"

I close my eyes, "Yeah,"

・❥・

I look at him, our limbs tangled together as we lay on the bed. His dark eyes on mine, warm as the sun we bathe in daily.

I curse myself for thinking again. The memories.
Kyle, my absent dad, my mom.

I'm so fucking sick of the thoughts.