He stands watching me, motionless in those drawstring pants, his legs braced in a fighting stance, his eyes bursting with need. His broad shoulders jerk with his breaths, and he curls his fingers into fists at his sides. The deep roughness of his voice scrapes my flesh. "Come here then.

I'll never recover if he breaks my heart. ~Brooke

The illusion is real. The life is mine.

One of us is certain to drown. I can’t let it be me.