*Alex's POV*
I watch my feets shuffle along the tar, kicking stones as I do so. In my head I'm making up words, words that would describe how I feel right now. The only words that seem to pass through my mind are deflated, aching and Tay. When she passes my mind, my throat swells, I can't breathe, my chest thumps, my head throbs, my eyes stop focusing. The thought of her now, makes me shiver, I pull my hoodie over my head to shake away the cold. But it lingers, following me just like her. When I close my eyes, she's there, opposite me on the couch, running her fingers gently along my bottom lip, leaving a trail of sensation.
I kick a stone far, it hits the curb a few metres away from me making a satisfying crack against the concrete. I kick a couple more, temporarily distracted how furious I am with myself, I promised myself I wouldn't think about her. She was the reason I couldn't sleep, the reason my head throbbed when it moved, the reason my chest hurt when I breathed, I hated her. Her brash comments and vicious words stung and the way her eyes burnt holes in me everytime I saw her, made me detest her, loathe her, fear her, hate her and at the same time crave her.
I could see her from here now, in the arms of the drunken knobhead, looking straight at me. I look down at my feet, almost smiling, but beyond furious. Chocolate eyes stare at me, I can feel them, the hatred burning in them. I shuffle around some more, trying not to look at her. My eyes can't help it, they begin to stop listening to my conscience. When they find her, they search her. Her curly hair, thick and rich, her body, curvy and defined, her legs, long, her eyes, their chcolately brown, and her lips soft and plump. On anybody else they would be irresistible, and for a split second I wish I was the one who had run my fingers along them, not the other way around. When I look back up her eyes, she's looking at me, but our eyes don't meet and then they're looking at the floor, and her pale cheeks pinken, and I'm walking away, ashamed I even thought of her, that I looked at her, that, for even just a split second;
I actually wanted her.
