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When I near the second floor, I sla, broad shouldered, hoodie-wearing probleers to ht I snuck out of edthat centers the Shadow side of town to punishdidn’t intervene, because they had their own proble done to people… God, there was soup the stairs brings me back to reality He has a notebook in his hand, and the hood of his jacket is pulled over his head

He has to be the guy who picked up ht door on the second floor and pops the end of a cigarette into his hts up, sainst the doorfraet the papers back Option one, I shove him down and steal the papers froets immediately scratched Option two, I could flirt with hiives me the pieces of paper That one see Evan But this guy is about as far away froet and definitely not Evan, so I’d be way out of my comfort zone

That leaves ive them back to me

I start down the stairs toward hilances around Still near the corner, he can’t see me as easily as I can see him Wisps of his black hair land in his dark eyes, and silver studs cover his brows and pierce through his lip His features are beautiful, but he looks rough around the edges, like he has really experienced life and has been scarred by it

I get an even better viehen he spots me and quickly draws the hood off his head

He has the darkest eyes I’ve ever seen, is the first thought that crosses hts float away and evaporate into one clouded thought--Gorgeous

He’s not conventionally beautiful at all He is a dangerous beauty, a potent beauty, an overwhelether it creates the ly emotional, perfect piece of art

If my mother were here, she’d tellin his lip, another in his brow, hair as black as ink, eyelashes so long and dark he looks like he’s wearing eyeliner, scars on his neck that declare his irace Someone who needed to be punished, locked up with the key throay

But, to me, he is art, poetry for the eyes and heart He is the uy I have ever seen And his scars have to tell a story, a story I want to hear

All I can do is stare All I want to do is stare Never uy and his beauty and the intensity scorching in his eyes How could I have been so afraid of his kind, so terrified of soerous? Because he doesn’t seeerous like I’ve always been told He’s just intense

Really intense

I should probably look away; his gaze is too penetrating But I can’t break the lock of our gaze as he stares me

And stares

And stares