Ümmühan
@_ummu
Johnny Kavanagh was holding my hand.
He was holding my hand and taking me upstairs.
Again.
To his bedroom.
Again.
Where he slept.
On his bed.
Probably with very little clothes on.
Oh, god...
I could be her friend.
I would be a good friend to her.
I could make life easier for her.
I wanted to do that for her.
"More of her," I replied glumly. "It's all more when it comes to her." I shook my head and sighed heavily. "Jesus, I want her so fucking bad I can't think straight, Gibs."
I knew I needed to get a fucking handle on myself.
Except I couldn’t.
Because she was addictive.
And I was obsessed.
She was disrupting my perfectly content way of life, and I didn’t fucking know how to cope with it.
The girl fucked with my head and made me weak and swayable.
It wasn’t right, and she had no business coming into my life at this pivotal point.
She was like a tornado I never saw coming.
The one problem I didn’t foresee when making my plans.
The one person who could fracture all my hard work.
And the most nerve-wrecking thing about it all was that I liked it.
I liked the fact that she was turning my life on its axis and encouraging never seen before notions and feelings inside of me, and then I hated that I liked it.