kit x alma

When you’re sealed away from reality into Briarcliff’s warped version of one, it’s nice to see a friendly face.

Grace’s sweet. Smart. A girl I can trust.

At least, that’s what I feel about her now.

…No, my mind retreats back to Alma sometimes. In beats. Moments. About the last time I saw her. Bare back. Naked. Milk chocolate skin.

And the first time.

She wouldn’t even look at me, or glance at me twice, that girl. She was with her brother at the traveling fun fair that night. Fireworks. Lights. Merry-go-rounds. A ferris wheel.

Distractions.

My eyes drifted from them, and into hers. Couldn’t look away. She smiled a little as I held my gaze, before being pulled away by her brother (Trevor, I gathered from her later.)

I followed. Asked her if she was thirsty. Had a soda in my hand. Another smile from her as she took the drink. Lovely, lovely, inviting curve of those lips I miss.