Authentic A Day Early

Time to write!

Sick of vampire and werewolf romances. Let's get crazy!

"It would be best for everyone if we didn't talk anymore."
"Best for everyone?" I asked. "Truly best? Or easiest?"
He shook his head, his dark eyes betraying both frustration and amusement. "You don't need to make this so dramatic Akara, it isn't going to be the end of the world."
My blood was beginning to boil. "I know!" I responded. His arrogance really was sickening, which made it confusing that I cared so much that he wanted to go, to completely leave my life.
"Listen," he said, placing his hot hands on my shoulders, leaving me feeling as though my skin was frying. "It won't work. It can't work. So we aren't going to try to make it work. It's called being smart."
I pulled back, partly because he was burning me and partly because the bluntness of his words hurt me in a deeper way than his hands did.
"Why did you even let me live, then?" I asked. Tears choked in my throat, but I was so angry that they stayed lodged there instead of finding their way up to my eyes where they would have been able to spill out and relieve the pressure.
Drakyn's eyes changed again, this time looking sad, but his characteristic smirk remained ever in place. "I don't always have a reason for everything. You know that. It was a whim."
Ouch. Ouch, ouch, ouch.
Drakyn laughed as I bit back the scream of frustration. "You understand, though, right?" he said. His question lacked even the slightest bit of sincerity, and didn't expect an answer.
I gave one anyway. "I totally understand," I said, perhaps a bit too loudly. I could feel my nose doing that awful angry, sad wrinkle and my jaw couldn't decide whether it wanted to clench or merely go on some sort of hyper-vibrate mode. And then I turned around, because there was no way on this dark and desperate earth that I was going to stand there and cry while I watched Drakyn walk away from me.
No. His last sight of me would not be my tears. It wouldn't be my on my knees, or with my face in his hands. His last memory of me would have to be my back, and so I walked with my head held high, my arms down by my sides, and he would never have to know what my face looked like, or that my tears had finally surfaced.

Stupid dragon.

So....I don't really care what you say. This story is one of my favorites and I'm a keeping it and taking it places. All that aside...you like?