sequel to aeou (read first)
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The boys are back. And they're out for revenge.
Last semester the girls of Sterling humiliated Caleb, Luca, Atlas and Sage. Exposing family secrets, dirty confessions and everything else taboo that led to their e...
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"DO YOU LIKE this skirt better-" Nai holds up a short frilly red skirt in front of her, "or this one," she swaps it out for a black leather one. The black one sits half an inch longer and has some gold enamel logo on it.
Because I'm not a dipshit and my mother raised me right I respond with: "You'll look great in both." It's the honest truth, both do look good on Nai.
Nayelie turns on her heel to face me, one of her hands shoots down to her hips and she raises a brow, "great?" she echoes, obviously unimpressed with my compliment.
"Beautiful, ethereal, godly," I watch as her face begins to light up with each word, "unearthly, celestial, heavenly...mine."
It's with a sweet smile that she skips over to press a chaste kiss to my lips, "Thank you."
"Of course," I shrug from my position on the footing of her bed. I stare, silently, as she turns around and returns to her spot before stripping. My eyes don't leave her body once. I watch as she tugs up the black skirt over her underwear and cocks her head to the side - analyzing herself.
"I think it'd look nice with a tighter top, no?" She asks, dark brown eyes meeting mine in the body-length mirror as she pulls at the loose basketball jersey she's currently got on. It doesn't take a genius to figure out whose closet she got that from.
"Nai, you could wear a trash bag and I'd think you could walk in Paris Fashion week."
She scoffs at the comment, but I'm not dumb. I can spot the smile forming on her lips from a mile away. "Come here, Atlas. Can you hold the shirt in position whilst I-" she stops talking, getting sidetracked by twisting the shirt behind her to see how it'd look as a tighter fit.
With a half-hearted sigh, I get up from my comfortable position. Unlike Nai, it only takes me two steps to cross the room. "Hold it tight," she lets me know, as she gestures for me to take hold over where she's currently twisting the top. I nod, placing my hand around hers before she lets it go.
When she's free to use her two hands again, she begins to tug down at the front, before sighing and rolling it up. Subconsciously, I begin to trace my finger down the side of her exposed stomach.
She intakes a sharp breath. "You need to keep your hands to yourself," she warns, her eyes meeting mine in the reflection of the mirror. . I drop my hand away. "Yes, ma'am."
A slither of a pout graces her face. It leaves almost as quickly as it'd come. "Ma'am?" she echoes, disbelievingly.
"What, you don't like it?"
She turns around swiftly, my hands fall away from the top. "Do I look like I like it?"
I take a step forward, she retreats - her back pressing against the mirror. She must've not realised how close she was to it, because her brows dip down in confusion at the feeling.
