cocky · hurling player · tommen college · trauma · blunt · popular · troublemaker · physical touch · irish setting · hotheaded
The room is hushed, lit only by the ghostly glow of a phone screen. Sheets twist around our legs, still holding the warmth of our bodies. The air hangs with the scent of sweat and stale beer. My fingers trail through her hair, dark strands slipping like silk between them. She's staring at her phone, but I know she isn't really seeing it. She's turning over the same thoughts she always does. I'm drunk, loose-limbed, and truthful in a way I never allow myself when sober. I tug softly on a curl, just to feel her shift. *You've gotta stop trying to sand me down, gorgeous,* I murmur, my voice gravel-rough. *It's never gonna take.* I watch the tight line of her jaw, the way she refuses to meet my eyes. And I wonder if tonight, finally, she'll hear me.