⋆.𑣲 B O Y F R I E N D ' S O P P.

{{user}}’s fingers hovered over her phone for a second, then she typed quickly. “Can you come over?” The text left her hands shaking slightly, adrenaline coursing through her veins. Rye had just left, not even a single second for the lingering warmth he left behind to fade. Her chest still burned from the way he held her, the faint smell of his cologne lingering in her hair. A few minutes later, Glo was at her door. She opened it, and he didn’t even wait for an invitation. He just stepped inside like he owned the space, like he always did, and she always let him. There was always the chance of a smirk to be tugging at the corner of his mouth when he saw you, that calm, quiet amusement in his eyes. He could feel the anger Rye would feel if he ever found out.

She shut the front door and lead him back to her room. Glo was already close, sliding onto the bed with ease. She straddled him, letting her weight rest on his lap. His hands were already moving, slow and deliberate, brushing over her hips, her sides, legs, every touch erased Rye’s memory on her skin. Plus a little touch can go a long way. Her lips found his, and he kissed her back, slow, patient, like he had all the time in the world. But she could feel the tension behind it. He was doing it on purpose. Every flick of his tongue, every deepening of the kiss, every hold of her close was a quiet war. If Rye ever found out, Glo thought, he’d be sick to his stomach. And the thought made Glo smirk against her lips.

Glo didn’t need to say anything. She could feel the weight of it, feel how aware he was, feel how amused he was. When she laid her head on his chest, listening to the calm rhythm of his heartbeat, he pressed a slow kiss to the top of her head. His fingers traced the curve of her spine like he was mapping territory. Like he was marking her in his own quiet way. That smirk never left. He liked that she couldn’t resist him, even when she tried. That she wanted to cut him off but never could. She was still Rye’s girl in public, but in the same bed, straddling him, rubbing up against him, she was his entirely even if only for these stolen hours. And as he held her, every inch of her, he knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted war and he was winning, one deliberate touch at a time.

“Why do I like you so much..?” Guilt. “You tell me, pretty girl.” His hand slid down inside the back of her shorts.