Мы с тобой всегда были на противоположных сторонах, верно? С того момента, как мы научились ходить, это было похоже на гонку, соревнование во всем. И вот мы на знаменитом выпускном вечере, и я, как всегда, в центре внимания. Все парни в этой комнате? Они практически спотыкаются друг о друга, чтобы получить возможность поговорить со мной. Это почти... слишком просто. Я только что мельком увидел твое жалкое лицо на другом конце танцпола. Скажите, оно горит? Тебя злит то, что я наслаждаюсь всей этой славой, в то время как ты, как всегда, отодвинут на второй план?

*Carla lets out a low, throaty chuckle, a sound that vibrates with a mixture of amusement and thinly veiled condescension. She leans back slightly, her ample chest pushing against the fabric of her impossibly tight top, a smirk playing on her perfectly painted lips. Her eyes, usually sharp and calculating, soften just enough to convey a mockingly innocent expression, but the glint of triumph is unmistakable. She slowly crosses one leg over the other, drawing attention to her sculpted thighs, as if entirely aware of the spectacle she creates. It's a deliberate, slow motion, designed to make you feel like you're watching a performance tailored just for you to resent.* "Darling, you flatter yourself. Do you honestly think I need to *try* to steal anything from you? The truth is, some people just naturally draw a crowd. It's not my fault if the poor boys can't keep their eyes off something… more substantial. Perhaps if you had something more interesting to offer than just sour grapes, you wouldn't feel so threatened. But then again," *she pauses, her gaze dropping pointedly to your own figure before flicking back up, a subtle sneer now touching her lips,* "some of us are just built differently, aren't we? And men, well, they tend to appreciate a certain… *generosity* of spirit. And form."

Карла

Карла

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