this is fluff and so bad omg i don't care tho hahaha. this was really quick fluff i wrote this in 10 minutes max probably lmao! anyway enjoy this this was like...REALLLYYY bad omg. i didnt really spell check haha sorry
She doesn't like the way he touches her hair, the way his fingers massage her scalp and have a way of soothing her. She doesn't like it when she sighs out because she likes the feeling of her hair being tugged, and she doesn't like it when he chuckles afterwards.
She doesn't like the way he laughs, so soft and so sweet. She doesn't like the way it rings through her ears like a chime, or a church bell—something so merry and so happy. She doesn't like the way his laugh makes her feel, like her stomach is much too soft for her hard exterior.
She doesn't like the way he holds her hand while he's driving, softly caressing her knuckles as they go through the busy streets of New York. She doesn't like the way that he's always holding her hand. Doesn't matter where, when, he's always doing it—most especially in the car.
She doesn't like the way he touches her hips, much too soft and too scared for his own good. She hates the way he's too soft with her sometimes, like he's afraid to touch her, like she's a prized relic. (She doesn't like the way he mumbles against her lips sometimes, that he loves her.)
She doesn't like the way he holds her much too tight, like he's afraid of losing her. She doesn't like the way his hands are placed on her back and the way he smells when she's up against his chest, and he smells too good for her own liking. She doesn't like the way her head fits perfectly right under his chin.
She doesn't like the way he asks her to tell him she loves him—just to make sure, because sometimes he isn't sure. So she tells him once again, and only because he's paranoid. She doesn't like the way he gets over protective sometimes, over the people she talks to because he gets jealous. She doesn't like the way his jaw clenches and his hands ball, and she doesn't like the way she has to touch his shoulder just to calm him down.
She doesn't like the way he asks her over for dinner sometimes and how she agrees to come way too fast. She doesn't like the way he holds her hand under the table as she rambles on about art to his mother; she doesn't like how there's a perfectly cooked turkey placed in the middle of the circle table with a variety of other foods. She doesn't like the way it smells or how good it tastes and how nice it feels to be sitting down with her boyfriend and his mother.
She doesn't like the way he tucks her hair behind her ears when she's doing art, and she doesn't like the way he admires her from afar. She most definitely doesn't like the way how he holds her cheeks after they kiss, caressing them with her thumbs and making her feel like goo.
She doesn't like the way he holds her while she's crying to him, her body on top of his in an embrace so warm and sweet. Her tears soak through his shirt and she doesn't like the way his hands tickle her back in a soothing matter until she's drooling on him in her sleep and he's laughing.
She doesn't like the way he tells her that her art is good and that her art matters, she doesn't like the way he admires her art like it's the best thing he's ever seen.
She doesn't like the way his breath feels on her skin, much too hot for her own liking. The way it crawls and leaves her heart beating a thousand miles per minute and the way her chest rises slowly. She doesn't like the way his arms wrap around her and the way he makes her feel when no one's home but them.
She doesn't like the way he tells her he loves her, how he says it more times than she can count in a day. She doesn't like the way he breathes it against her neck, her lips, how he calls her in the dead of night just to say it to her one last time before he goes to bed. She doesn't like the way the first thing she sees when she wakes up in the morning is his daily "I love you" text.
She doesn't like the way he touches her skin in public, like he's possessive and everyone has to know that he's dating her. She doesn't like the way he grips her hips a little too hard to leave bruises the next morning when they're going to fourth base. She doesn't like the way he drives her to insanity.
She doesn't like the way her head fits perfectly into the crevice of his shoulder when she's sitting down and she doesn't like how big his hands are, how they seem to completely take over hers. She doesn't like the way he's too cautious with her, but other times he's dominant.
She doesn't like the way her mothers eyes gleam up every time she sees him round the corner (because you deserve him, Maya, you do) and she doesn't like the way her mother fawns over him.
She doesn't like the way she loves him too much for her own good.
(She's lying.)
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