Maddie.
One year ago.
"What do you even like about me?" he asks me as he plays with the loose strands of my hair. His eyes bore into me and it feels like he is staring into my soul. The question is abrupt and came from nowhere. This moment is a defining factor in our relationship. We have been steady for a month—well by steady I mean, steady fucking. There hasn't been any progress in our relationship, the fact that he thinks that I am okay with this is the only reason why he hasn't run away from me.
The slow pace we are going is pissing me off.
