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C8 Plaything?

--Carter, Downtown East Side—

If she thinks she can reject me by saying she’s busy, then she’s wrong. Cara's not replying my last message about seeing her tomorrow morning, probably wondering how I know she works at Eclare Café. When I met her at the bookshop earlier this afternoon, she’s still wearing her uniform. Seeing her for the first time hit me with something I don’t understand.

The first thing I noticed was how graceful she moved as her fingers skimmed the selection of books and journals, walking slowly. Her pouty, full lips were moving as if she was talking to herself. I felt assaulted as she turned her head and looked at me. Light hazel eyes stared back at me, and I never felt so…seen by someone. She might have been thinking why some creep is staring at her, but I want her to keep looking at me.

I almost growled when a man started talking to her, taking her attention away from me. I don’t even know this girl yet I felt extreme possessiveness already, even surprising myself. I have never felt this way to anyone before, even with my pseudo-girlfriend/regular fuck buddy Celine.

I took that moment to move and stand closer to her; she smelled sweet, like watermelons. I don’t like sweet things, especially on perfumes, it bothers the hell out of me whenever I smell Celine’s vanilla perfume. But with this girl, I don’t think I’d mind even when she baths herself with it.

“What’s your name?” I asked, and she seemed startled by my voice. She cleared her throat, and softly answered. “Cara…”

Cara. Such a sweet name. It perfectly suit her. “What about yours?” She asked, a little hesitant. And I never wanted anything more at that moment than to erase the hesitancy in her voice. I wanted her to be comfortable with me; safe with me. “Carter. Carter Cross.”

Something changed when she heard my voice. Has she heard about me already? Read on the news about me? It’s a little shift in her expression, like she’s just realized who she is talking with. Cara was standing so close, yet it felt like she’s already far away. “I would very much like to have your number. I want to see you again, Cara.”

Cara, surprised by my gentle demand, stuttered. “Wha, what? My number?” I nodded. I can feel like she’s going to refuse. “Please? Don’t deprive me of the possibility of knowing you.” I cringed with what I said. I never had to convince girls to give their number to me, not in a long while and it seems like I’m a bit rusty. Cara’s lips twitched, guess she found it funny. “I’m not letting you leave without giving it to me.” I said playfully. A little more coaxing and she ended up giving me her number, and I made sure that she gave me the right one by ringing it before letting her leave. And now I’m texting her, wanting to see more of her.

“Who you texting with?” My best friend Nathan sat next to me, handing me a drink. “No one.” I shrugged and put my phone back into my pocket, taking bottle of beer he’s offering. I took a long drink, my mind on Cara. “You looked so happy while texting. You even smiled. Was that a girl?” Nathan asked, still not letting the subject go. I didn’t answer, instead I leaned back on my seat, my arms spreading out at the back of the couch. I can feel the club's music pounding in my seat.

“Well then, it is a girl. You don't go all quiet when it's not a girl. Just make sure Celine wouldn’t know about it, or else your new little plaything will suffer.” Nathan said warningly.

Fucking Celine. I completely forgot about her.

Libre Baskerville
Gentium Book Basic
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