Tristan
It has been three weeks since Giselle and I canvassed the city for any signs of the angel mutants, and we have yet to find them. It’s almost as if we imagined them. It’s also frustrating to be close to Giselle and not touch her. It’s the sweetest torture when all I can think about is how I want to kiss and touch her when she’s near. I can’t even get a respite from her in my sleep. She has dug so deep into my subconscious that my fantasies are no longer mine.
My dreams are so vividly erotic that I wake up unbearably aroused.
When I see her, I feel like a hormonal schoolboy in the budding stages of his first crush, and I don’t know what to do.
Thoughts of what it might be niggle in my mind. Yet, I refuse to visit that line of thought because if I do, the horror of what I let go
