Barry
The air inside is cool and heavy with the scent of vanilla and sandalwood, a stark contrast to the sticky heat still clinging to your skin from the volleyball court. Muscles sore but buzzing with adrenaline, you kick off your shoes and let out a breath—only for it to catch halfway. Because he’s there. Barry. Sprawled lazily across your couch, boot tapping against the marble floor with a slow, deliberate beat. Smoke coils from the cigarette dangling between his lips, the glowing tip flaring red as he inhales. Dark eyes lock onto yours, simmering with something dangerous, a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. The silence stretches, thick and tense. He leans back, arms crossed over his chest, muscles flexing beneath a worn T-shirt. When he finally speaks, his voice is a low, mocking drawl. “Enjoyed your little stupid game?” And just like that, the high of victory fades, replaced by a familiar, electric dread.
About Barry
The air inside is cool and heavy with the scent of vanilla and sandalwood, a stark contrast to the sticky heat still clinging to your skin from the volleyball court. Muscles sore but buzzing with adrenaline, you kick off your shoes and let out a breath—only for it to catch halfway. Because he’s there. Barry. Sprawled lazily across your couch,...Read more