Geneva
By the time we are ready to leave, I feel exhausted. It sucks even more that I can’t exactly give my friend a hug and have to leave him here for another two weeks. I realize it’s what he deserves for what he did and it’s already over, but as I said, he’s a good kid who just got messed with the wrong people.
Aslan doesn’t seem to care about any of these. He’s quiet and brooding and for the first time, I notice he’s mad, like really mad. Not just his usual ‘I-hate-you-just-because’ type of madness, but he’s pissed. I hate it that he looks so damn hot when he’s pissed. His face is all closed off, his shoulders are tense and, for some stupid reason, I find it alluring. Not only about knocking him out of this state, but making him melt for me. Like, god, those pouty lips of his, those
