Amizah R

d her at The Haven… she told me everything. About giving me away, about

at The Haven… she told me everything. About giving me away, about

Some space?”

“Did you grow?”

“Yeah, a seven-inch cock. Can a girl breathe or do you wanna ride it, too?”

His curious, green eyes pin me to my spot, and his full lips sit on a harsh line as if he’s waiting for something. And his jawline. I don’t see a spec of stubble, but everything else about him screams man, so I don’t want to know what else he could do with a blade.

Then there’s the summer-brown hair. At maybe four inches long and flopping every which wavy way, it’s just about the only thing on him that isn’t crafted to perfection, but at least it’s on his head.

“Are you gonna knock me out?”

“You think I’d–” He shakes his head. “No, I’m not gonna knock you out, what the fuck?”

“There was this boy. Well, he

didn’t look like a boy. I swear I almost shat myself, and then he was all like–” I deepen my voice, unable to stop smiling. “‘Ayo, Jaz. Don’t let me hear you chattin’ my business, yeah.’ And all along, he was the one in the girl’s toilets.”

I start to wonder how little attention I was paying. With her wispy now-short, dark hair framing her face, she’s hard not to see. Sharp, dark eyes that draw you in, a wide honey-ringed pupil that doesn’t let you leave. Freckles dusting her nose in a range of browns that have you musing at the contours of it. Small, plump lips, the top one a shade row darker than the bottom, both imperceptibly