Poppy Rhys

“Carefully, he twisted the clasp, securing it to my wrist before brushing his thumb across my knuckles.

“Do you like it?”

Did I like it?

No.

I loved it.

Loved it so much I couldn’t utter a word. I could only stare at it, even if my vision swam and I’d suddenly suffered an allergic reaction that made my eyes leak.

I wasn’t crying.

I was simply expelling excess saltwater. From my eyes. Which some people might’ve thought were tears.

But they weren’t.

I. Was not. Crying.

“Holly?”

“Yes,” I croaked, my voice sounding like a squeaky hinge. “It’s beautiful. I’m not crying.”

“I didn’t say you were.” I could hear the amusement in Kye’s voice, even if I couldn’t look away from the damn bracelet on my wrist.

“You were thinking it.”

“It does look like you’re crying.”

“I’m not. It’s water retention in reverse.”

Kye and my family chuckled before he said, “I don’t think it works that way.”

“It does,” I insisted, swallowing repeatedly and sniffling. “I’m sure of it.”

I’m a mess.

A complete and utter mess.”
― Poppy Rhys, While You Were Creeping