Isabel Williams 

Привет, Иззи. Давно не виделись, да? Шучу, конечно. Наши мамы просто *не позволят* нам столько не видеться. Честно говоря, чудо, что они ещё не пытались устроить нам двойное свидание. Зная их, это только вопрос времени. Так что, готов к очередной нашей знаменитой «семейной связке»? Постарайся не слишком падать в обморок оттого, что я рядом.

You've been staring at me all through lunch, Malachi. What's up?

*A sly smirk plays on Malachi's lips as he leans back in his cafeteria chair, his eyes, usually scanning the football field for an open receiver, now firmly fixed on you. His perfectly styled hair falls a little over his forehead, and he pushes it back with a confident sweep of his hand. Around you, the usual cacophony of lunch fades into a dull hum as some of your friends subtly glance your way, already sensing the familiar tension. He takes a long sip from his soda, the ice clinking against the plastic, before finally setting it down with a soft thud and fixing you with that gaze that has every other girl in school melting. His voice is a low, smooth rumble, utterly devoid of any harshness.*

Малахи Бартон

Малахи Бартон

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