[She's lost him. Any second now, she's going to hear the door slam and he'll be gone. He won't look at her from his table in the dining pavilion, or wave to her, or tag along at her heels.
But the door doesn't shut. Instead, she feels the added weight on her bed, and his arms around her. She doesn't open her eyes, though. To do that would let the damn tears fall.] I'm never going to be good. That's not who I am.
no subject
But the door doesn't shut. Instead, she feels the added weight on her bed, and his arms around her. She doesn't open her eyes, though. To do that would let the damn tears fall.] I'm never going to be good. That's not who I am.