Everything She Wants
1070 Words
The bath took longer than I thought, and when I finally pulled myself out of it, the water had gone cold. I wrapped a robe around me and walked. The walk-in closet was just across from the bath, and I thought it was absolutely convenient.
I braced myself for yet another discovery as I opened the door. This place had been a whole adventure all through. It made me wonder what else waited. What else could be in there.
I opened up the doors, and my lips fell open. Rows after rows of comfortable clothes ranging from hoodies that looked at least two sizes too big, then shorts just like I loved to wear before the whole glow up thing.
Now my wardrobe was filled with silk, and I wore them even when it got too hot or felt weird against my skin.
I broke into a smile as I walked inside, running my hands on the clothes. This was an absolute dream. There was, for sure, an entire closet for formal dresses and shoes, but the comfortable clothes filled the entire space.
I settled on a large Hoodie and black shorts, then did a little twirl, my giggle resounding through the closet.
My eyes fell on a glass arrangement, and I squinted to get a better view. It was filled with hair clips and scrunchies, combs, small, dainty mirrors. I opened the glass, then picked out a claw clip. I pulled my hair up and clipped it back, in the same messy bun I used to always have. Strands of hair fell around my face, framing it, and I turned to the mirror.
It felt like I had gone back in time. Ages ago. When I was chubby. When I had braces. When I didn't have a care for fashion or anything. When I was... me.
I let out a sigh, my eyes drinking me in slowly. I felt foreign to myself, and I knew within those years, something very bad had happened. I had changed to fit in. Glowing up was different, but I had changed
I refused to take a book because it made me seem too nerdy. I refused to wear these sort of clothes because it didn't do much in accentuating my body. I refused to be me because it felt like no one could accept that.
"What are you doing?"
I looked up, and Florian was by the door, but he wasn't talking to me. He was wearing a black shirt that had a pulled back collar, and I could see the tattoo on his back.
I immediately wiped my tears away, as someone else replied to him. He didn't say anything before he slowly turned to me.
My heart did a flip as he let his eyes take me in, his fingers folding in front of him. I swallowed hard, my eyes tearing away from him to take myself in. Would he like this? Was this top far back?
"I..." I started to say, my voice low. "Well, they were the only clothes in here and..."
"I know," he said, letting his eyes meet mine.
I really hoped I was being a delusional woman because all I saw in his eyes now were raw, naked desire. Like how they had looked last night when he was above me. Last night, when he had let me take a breath from the kiss I had initiated in the car.
I bit down on my lips as I felt my insides melt, and my knees threatened to bring me to his feet on a platter of my own dignity.
"Do you like them?" He asked again, and I blinked.
"I... I rarely get asked that question."
"You rarely advocate for what you like, too."
I swallowed, then looked down at myself again. Maybe he was right, but that wasn't a hill I wanted to die on right now.
"This... it's beautiful, Florian. Everything. And the bookshelf in the bath. The lavender sheets. Everything. It's like you found out what my dream room was, and you brought it to life."
His eyes squinted, but he said nothing and gave a simple nod. We fell into silence, and his eyes roamed down my body again, his colours growing darker by the second. I felt heat rise up to my cheeks, and I bit down on my lips hard.
"Come down for lunch."
I nodded immediately, hoping it would relieve the awkwardness I felt. He gave me one last look before he walked away, leaving me standing there, absolutely heated from a single look.
FLORIAN'S P.O.V.
Six years ago.
Country club house, CA
"And?" I asked, my brow raising as I took in Ronan. He was hunched over the bar, his fingers wrapped around a glass, with a cigarette resting between his index and middle fingers.
"Well, she left. I am not running after that b***h. Women always want more. More! What else does she want? I f**k her good..."
"When you want to," I said, my eyes narrowing. "Not when she wants to."
"She enjoys it," he defended, his eyes meeting mine. "And honestly, women are insatiable. They want everything. For example, my sister, that greedy b***h, cane begging for a new bedroom simply because I had dad fix my room to be larger to accommodate my game set up."
I slowly leaned forward. Roxanne. I wanted to ruin him for calling her a b***h.
"A bedroom?"
He nodded, then took a long drag of cigarette. "She wants lavender sheets, cloudy f*****g rugs, a f*****g bookshelf in her bath, with roses and s**t. Can you imagine that? Mum said no. I am glad she did. That spoilt brat needs to know she can't get everything."
"Why can't she?" I asked, my eyes narrowing to slits. If it wasn't for Roxanne, I wouldn't be associated with a lost cause like this bastard.
"What?"
"Why can't she have everything she wants? You get everything you want."
He shrugged and took another drag. "Is she in some sort of competition with me? Who will give her everything she wants?"
I shrugged, grabbing my jacket. I dropped my share of the bill, then gave him a small smile.
"Who knows?"
"Where are you going?" He asked, but I didn't bother replying. He wasn't worth a reply.
As for where I was going... I was going to give his sister everything she wants.
- Writer
