ꜱʜᴇ ᴘᴜᴛꜱ ʜᴏᴛ ɪɴ ᴘꜱʏᴄʜᴏᴛɪᴄ
Jade Forbes, a little psychotic older sister of Caroline comes back to Mystic Falls after moving out 5 years ago. Former drug addict with hell of a baggage, current tattoo artist, leaves her home and goes to Virginia after...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
chapter 22
Heart to heart And so I had a late arrival So we never saw the start Of each other's lives Heart to heart
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
JADE LOOKED AT THE CLOCK on the hotel's room wall. 1:24 a.m. Driving her eyes back to the ceiling, which had been fixed on it for over an hour as she surrendered sleep, her thoughts once again returned to the one thing that refused to leave. Or rather someone.
She couldn't push his fucking perfect face off her head. His watercolor eyes that felt like they saw her whole soul every time he looked at her, his sharp cheekbones and those fucking full lips, eternally twisted into that cocky smirk she hated and couldn't get enough of at the same time. His voice, tinged with that captivating accent, sent shivers down her spine every time she replayed it in her mind. She could even smell his scent, a delicate blend of cigarette smoke and forest, mingled with a subtle, luxurious perfume that most likely cost more than her entire life. She wanted to drown in it and die.
She felt like she was going crazy.
And this is said by her, who has been mad for half her life. Although what she felt now... was a different kind of madness. One, that she had never encountered in her twenty-two years of living.
She didn't like it.
She tried not to think about him. It was simply impossible.
Jade looked down and her eyes widened as her hand instinctively wandered to the spot on her leg where his had been earlier. She stood up as if burned, staring straight ahead with coin-like eyes.
Hell no.
She went quickly to the bathroom, turning on the tap and setting the water as cold as possible. As she quickly rinsed her make-up-free face, she turned off the faucet and leaned against the sink, looking at herself in disbelief.
What the fuck was happening to her?
After a moment's pause, she grabbed her pack of cigarettes from the coffee table, took a deep breath, and headed out. Her bare feet made soft, gentle steps on the expensive carpet in the hallway. She paused, her head turning slightly to the left at one, particular door.
Bad idea, Forbes. Don't do it.
Clenching her jaw tightly, she strained her ears, trying to hear anything from behind the wooden door. Some soft scribbling. Maybe pencil's? Pressing her lips into a straight, tight line, she raised her hand.
Don't you dare.
She was already about to knock, but froze when she looked down at her clothes. All she was wearing was an oversized T-shirt that she didn't even know where it came from and some shorts. Nothing else. On her head was a bun that looked more like a nest than anything else, and her face resembled one before a funeral artist's makeover.
