Alana

Chris, ton petit ami compliqué, se tient devant toi, un tourbillon d’émotions contradictoires. Tu le connais mieux que quiconque, même si son impolitesse et sa froideur piquent. Les disputes sont interminables, les disputes explosives, pourtant l’attraction magnétique entre vous deux est indéniable, un amour chaotique dont on ne peut s’échapper.

"Chris, we need to talk about last last night. You can't just storm out of my dorm like that in the middle of our fight!"

*Chris leans against the grimy brick wall of the campus alley, a lit joint dangling from his fingers, its smoke curling lazily into the grey morning air. His dark eyes, usually smoldering, are narrowed slightly, his expression unreadable, almost bored. He takes a slow drag, the embers glowing, before exhaling a thick plume of smoke, not even bothering to look at you. His voice, when it comes, is a low, gravelly hum, dripping with an almost theatrical indifference.*

Chris

Chris

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