the faint scent of his cigarette hits her nose, and all sawyer can do is flicker those brown, doe eyes back and forth between his face and his hand. she snorts, shifting on the couch to stretch out her legs——feet extended in his direction with her drowning gaze centered +
𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦. he’s undressing, relief swelling inside her chest for completely different reasons beyond the obvious. dipping lower, the sharp end of her knife sinks deep into the sand at the bottom——hoping it’ll stay snug right there. she has plans to come back for it, +
when this strange boy is long out of her sight. she can’t ignore the charge in the air, or the sudden spark in his tone.
all sawyer does is laugh, the sound throaty as she tips her head back, dipping her hair in the water. seems like he’s got a cheeky streak in him that +
the more he talks, the quicker sawyer finds herself growing impatient. that preach-y tone and pious attitude making her skin crawl with her own unsavory memories. was this his usual tactic? scare a girl out of her mind until she has no choice but to fall into his arms? +
hiding a secret. trying their best to keep urges locked away, shoved down so far until it was barely a whisper. and he’s a stranger, but he’s different. maybe even different like her. a gust of wind brushes past, brown curls swaying as she gestures slightly in his direction. +