She was supposed to be another chess game with a known result, but she’s turning out to be more unpredictable than any game I played before.
She barged on my board, shuffled my formation, and wreaked havoc in my court.
Everything changed when she refused to be a fucking pawn like she was supposed to.
I drag my thumb along her bottom lip and her mouth parts as if inviting me in.
Since I first saw her, she’s been pulling me in with her seemingly innocent ways.
Truth is, her ways are more destructive than innocent. And the worst part is, I don’t think she even recognises that.
She shifts again and her tits push against the shirt. I undo the first three buttons. My fingers freeze on the fourth button as the faded scar comes into view just above her pale left breast.
I run my fingers on the smooth, deep tissue. It’s been a while since I left a mark on that scar.
Hmm. I need to change that soon.
This scar holds an entire story of its own that I doubt her guardians would ever tell her.
This scar was the beginning of the end.
Elsa just doesn’t know it yet.
Since I saw this scar on the first day of senior year, I’ve been fucking everything up.
My thumb presses into the skin harder than I intended. Elsa mumbles something and I remove the pressure.
With careful fingers, I re-button the shirt. She doesn’t need to catch me staring at her scar like the freak she already thinks I am.
Besides, she’s too self-conscious about her scar. There’s no need to dig that wound open.
Not today.
I wrap my hand around her neck and caress the pulse point in her throat.
It’s curious how such a normal heartbeat can belong to her.
Frozen.
She really is.
She’s so frozen, it pissed me off in the beginning.
It still pisses me off sometimes, but I have other things to worry about.
Such as Jonathan and her fucking last name.
What would it be like if she were someone else? If she really was Elsa Quinn, not Elsa Steel?
Fuck.
Why would I even think about something impossible?
This girl isn’t only messing up my carefully-laid plans, but she’s also screwing with my head.
I’m the one who’s supposed to screw with heads, not the other way around.
Elsa shifts again, and this time, her eyes slowly peel open. She stares at her surroundings, appearing confused before she focuses back on me.