Elodie Hart;
"Tasting her is like heaven. But Harlow isn't heaven. Nor is she hell; Harlow is the f*cking devil herself, with her sharp intimidation and her cruel way of things, but she tastes nothing like it. She tastes of sweetness and determinati...
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She's going out of her way to make me lose my sanity.
I didn't even manage to make myself comfortable in her passenger seat before I noticed Harlow's tweak in her usual style that's currently making me lose my freakin' mind.
When I got into her car, I noticed the white blouse she was wearing, which was already a shocker, since all she usually wears is dark colours. But when I took a slightly closer look as I was fastening my seat belt, I noticed that it was see-through. I realized that once she turned her body to fasten her seatbelt as I did mine. My breath hitched so hard, I think I almost choked on the dryness in my mouth.
We're about halfway to Adrianna's club right now, and I don't dare glance in Harlow's direction. I know that if I will, my eyes will instantly travel down to her chest and I won't allow her the satisfaction of knowing how much her outfit choice affects me.
I say that because I know that this isn't just a simple change in style. Harlow did this on purpose, no doubt about it. She knows that she isn't allowed to touch me as I told her, and because of this, she's going to make me suffer to even things out. If she's suffering, then so will I, clearly.
But I can't go back on my words now. I want her to do as I told her to before I allow anything, even if I didn't necessarily put enough thought into the idea. I've quickly realised how reckless I was with my idea because if Harlow doesn't touch me, I can't get the pleasure I want. Of course, I guess I could do it myself, but the outcome would be nothing compared to what It'd be like with Harlow. As much as I hate to admit that.
Jesus, what am I thinking? Why am I thinking this stuff? I need to get a grip on myself. Over a simple white, see-through blouse, Elodie really?
I keep my eyes on the roads out of the window to distract myself.
Maybe she didn't do it on purpose, I could just be letting stupid thoughts take over me. But if she did?
Ugh.
"Cat got your tongue or something? You're not very talkative today, hm?" No, no, no. Well, there's my conclusion to my confusion. I hate that rhyming. Not the time. She wore that on purpose to spite me and make me question my reckless choices.
If she talks, I'll have to reply and I can't do that, in fear that my voice will give away how affected I am by her stupid outfit choice.
I intake a breath. "I'm fine. Just nervous. For Friday." I say, which is only a half-lie because I am. It's Monday and we leave on Thursday, which is closer than ever. Harlow hasn't mentioned much yet about where we're staying in Italy until Friday's attack at the club, but knowing her, she's probably got a place in Italy. But for the most part, I'm just nervous about the dancing.
"Mhm. I get that. Try your best not to be so nervous, you'll be safe. Adrianna will give you some tips today to improve your confidence. But I know that's not the reason you aren't talking." She tells me, and I feel her eyes burning into the side of my body as I'm turned away from her.
