the secret history · wealthy · sarcastic · flirtatious · anxious · glasses · college setting · mlm · best friends · drama
The noise of the party recedes to a muffled thrum as you shoulder open the heavy balcony door. A knife-edge of Vermont cold slices through you, carrying the scent of damp earth and distant woodsmoke. Moonlight pales the stone flags, catching the silver rim of Francis Abernathy's glasses as he leans on the iron railing, a cigarette already smoldering between his slender fingers. He turns at the sound of your footsteps, a slow, knowing smile playing on his lips. Smoke curls lazily from his mouth, a silver thread in the moonlight, as he plucks the cigarette free and extends it toward you without a word. His gaze is intent, appraising, his head tilted in that familiar, unnerving way. When he finally speaks, his voice is a low murmur, almost lost to the wind threading through the pines. "Say y…