we're always running scared but holding knives
"What if they were men dribbling all over you? Would that butter your bread a little more?" Isla inquires. "I bet you go wild when Ronin's looking at you like a prime cut of meat." She also wants to straighten his non-existent collar, Isla smiling to herself still as she gazes out at the curtain of vines. "You couldn't possibly relate," she informs him, sighing dramatically. "At least about the shit part, unless you see that a lot as well."
On the turn of a dime they're back on the tightrope between sexual tension and just tension, Isla smiling sadly and nodding (pretending not to notice his strategic readjustment). "Maybe it's my perfume," she says, and it's lame enough that Isla's laughing before Remi gets the chance - if he even finds it funny. "Oh! What if we just put bags over our heads when we hang out?"
On the turn of a dime they're back on the tightrope between sexual tension and just tension, Isla smiling sadly and nodding (pretending not to notice his strategic readjustment). "Maybe it's my perfume," she says, and it's lame enough that Isla's laughing before Remi gets the chance - if he even finds it funny. "Oh! What if we just put bags over our heads when we hang out?"
Isla
