Ramirez Gonazles.
I stare down at my hands—the same hands that had her pinned and guided just days ago. It’s been three days since that moment, but it still lingers in the back of my mind. Last night, I had a dream. In it, I went further than I did in reality—my fingers slipped under her underwear, not just grazing the surface. I felt the heat of her, the intensity of her longing, as if she were begging for me to take control. But it was just a dream.
Reality is different. We might have established some kind of magnetic pull between us, but that doesn’t mean she’d want anything real with a man like me. And truthfully, I don’t know if I could commit to a girl like her. She’s immature, scattered, quirky… the kind of girl who wants stability, who would want promises, and probably, commitme
