E P I G R A P H

❝there are all kinds of love in this world
but never the same love twice.❞

☾ seventeen | falling ☽

"LET'S GO UPSTAIRS, angel."

My eyes widened and I've never felt my heart beat accelerated to such an intense, vast speed—until now.

I felt like my entire body had just been thrown into a pool of ice cold water and I was in a state of shock, I think I physically felt all the blood and colour drain from my body.

Pull yourself together, Halo. He's just doing a dare, so he doesn't look like a pussy. We'll just talk for seven minutes, then walk downstairs and act like nothing happened.

I don't even know how long I have been here at this point, two hours? I don't know, something like that, but regardless, I've had my fair share of drinking tonight, and I definitely had my fair share of drama—unfortunately—all I want now, is to go home.

I was pulled out of my thoughts when Holt's large, warm hand enveloped my small—probably cold one, intertwining his fingers with mine as he tugged me towards the stairs.

"You coming?" he murmured huskily.

I rolled my eyes, "Do I really have a choice?"

He shook his head, a small yet cheeky smile playing on his lips as he turned his back to me, his hand remaining connected to mine as he dragged me up the stairs.

As a child I had always wished I had the ability to freeze time, and right now I am wishing for that super power more than ever, except I'd wish to freeze everyone around me, that way I could make a dash for the door and go back home, then I'd unfreeze time and the world would proceed normally.

But that's unrealistic, because I am Halo Storm, not a superhero. Unfortunately.

"Hey, Holt?" I whispered.

He turned to look at me over his shoulder, his eyes capturing mine, almost causing me to lose my train of thought completely.

"Hmm?"

I bit my lip, "If you could have one super power, what would it be?"

He laughed, finding my random question rather amusing. I guess it is quite a strange question to ask an eighteen year old in the middle of a house party, but I'm curious.

"Are we playing five questions now?" he asked, I shrugged, "I don't know. . .I guess I'd want the ability to read minds."

We reached the top of the stairs and he began pulling me down the hallway.

"Why?" I asked.

He shook his head, opening one of the end doors, thankfully it wasn't the door for Alix's room, that'd give me severe PTSD, goodness, I sound like an emotional wreck—pathetic.

The room was nice, really nice. It was very clean, not a spec of dust. It was rather old fashioned, especially compared to the rest of the house, it made me wonder whom lives in this room.

The walls were navy blue, a double bed centred against the far right wall, clad in a maroon duvet with shiny black bedside tables and a tall set of wooden drawers on the left wall with a plasma television on top of it, angled slightly, so it was facing the bed properly.

On the wall directly across from me though, was breathtaking. It was a bookshelf, like the one at the book café near the beach, except this one is far bigger and almost ancient looking, I noticed how clean it was.

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you."

I furrowed my eyebrows, until I remembered the conversation we had just been having.

I scoffed, "That's a pretty sadistic response to such a childish question."

He laughed, "That's a pretty childish question for you to ask in the first place."

I glared at him, playfully punching his arm, "I'm a pretty childish person."

"I realised."

I groaned, walking to the other side of the room where the wall of books stood. My eyes scanned each row, and I noticed that everything was in alphabetical order, there was no dust on a single book either. I don't know if that means that this shelf is often dusted, or the owner of this room reads a lot, so there isn't enough time for a book to collect any dust.

Regardless, they take diligent care of their books.

I ran my index finger across the spine of each book in the middle row, until it stopped at the end book, "The Great Gatsby" written by F.Scott Fitzgerald.

It was a hardcover, and it was a royal blue colour, the title of the book written in the well-known elegant gold font.

"Are you okay?" Holt asked, observing me as I opened the book and skimmed the pages, "You now, about the Zayden thing?" he said warily.

I sighed, the anger which was once extremely strong had now bubbled down and wasn't so intense, but it was still there.

"I'm just annoyed, but I guess it was karma."

He grunted, "Why would it be karma?"

Because I'm a horrible person and I technically used him to revive the spark I once felt for Everest. I needed that flame again, the life I once felt in my heart, but now it was dead and I felt nothing, if you don't love someone, you should leave them alone and I didn't.

"I dated him in hopes in retrieving the feelings I once felt towards Everest." I sighed, "I just wanted another Everest, but the truth is, there is no one like him."

Every word I spoke was honest, I wasn't sure why I was being so truthful towards Holt, but something about those harsh grey eyes that always softened when I spoke to him, made me feel comfortable—safe.

"There are all kinds of love in this world, but never the same love twice." He said.

I raised an eyebrow, "What?"

The corners of his lips uplifted into a lazy smile, "It's a quote from the book you're holding."

"Oh."

He carefully took the book from my grasp, turning to a page before showing me and there the exact words were, written in a black font.

"You've read this book?"

He nodded, seeming shocked that I would even ask that, "You haven't?"

I shook my head. It's not like I've never heard of it, it's one of the most well-known and timeless books around, I've just never gone out and purchased it then read it, I've read all types just not that specific one.

I'll have to add it to my long list of books to read.

I closed the book carefully, as though it was made of the most fragile material ever, before placing it back in the bookshelf, to its original spot.

"Has it been seven minutes yet?" I asked, changing the subject.

He shook his head, "The seven minutes hasn't even started yet."

I furrowed my eyebrows, "What do you mean?"

"It's called seven minutes in heaven, angel." He chuckled, "Not seven minutes standing by a bookshelf."

I giggled, "I think heaven can be whatever you want it to be."

"Touché."

Suddenly the mood shifted, vastly with no reason. It felt as though all the air had been completely sucked out of the room and I was in desperate need of oxygen. The room seemed darker and Holt was growing closer.

His silhouette was intoxicating, completely and utterly intoxicating. The darkness of this room making the depths of his perfectly chiselled face more intimidating, the contrast of his pale skin against the dark background was intriguing.

"W-What're you doing?"

He swiped his tongue over his bottom lip, "Completing the dare."

My eyes widened, "Wha—"

That's the moment everything changed, in a split second. He placed his large hands on my waist, my skin tingling beneath his touch, regardless of the fact that there was a thin layer of white material acting as a barrier between his skin and mine.

He tugged me forward, my front pressing against his as he stared down at me, his eyes projecting a whirlwind of emotions as he removed his left hand from my waist to tilt my chin upwards, ever so gently.

"Her face, sad and lovely with bright eyes and a bright passionate mouth." He spoke, each word rolling off his tongue.

The words didn't make sense to me until I figured that they were the belongings of another quote from that book.

"I don't speak literature, normal English please?"

He smirked, "You're beautiful."

I blushed, attempting to turn away but his hand was still under my chin, keeping my face turned upwards, so I could see him.

"Holt. . ." I sighed.

He shook his head, "I don't want to hear it."

"Hear what?"

"The bullshit about how wrong this is, about how Everest wouldn't want this."

I inhaled sharply, he always seems to know exactly what I'm thinking before I even have to say anything.

"You know you're beautiful, you don't need me to tell you, but I'll tell you anyway." He muttered.

My eyes widened as he grew closer, his face leaning closer and closer to my own, and his eyes were staring at none other than my lips, like they were the most interesting thing in the world.

"Halo. . ."

I placed both my hands on his chest, attempting to shove him away but it was the most pathetic, sorry excuse of a push I've ever seen, because for some reason, I didn't want to push him away.

I don't think I could bring myself to, even if I wanted to.

"I'm going to try something, is that okay?"

I gulped, unable to form any proper words, so I settled with a curt nod. I'm sure my temperature and my eyes were doing all the talking for me.

He bit his bottom lip, craning his neck as he bought his lips so that they were merely inches away from mine, so close that I could smell the strawberry vodka he just drank, or the weed from the joint he just smoked, though somehow it smelt lovely.

I don't know what happened in the next few seconds because my eyelids fluttered shut, and shortly after I felt a pair of lips pressed to mine, and suddenly I understood why the game is called 'seven minutes in heaven' because it truly was.

It took me a moment to process what was happening, but after I realised that none other than Holt Stone, had his lips on mine, and it was turning me to jelly.

He I kissed him back, my hands still pressed against his firm chest, and the kiss alone was enough for me to want to tear his shirt entirely off his body.

I dared to slip my hands around his neck, I really wanted to entangle my hands in his hair, and tug on the silky strands of jet black hair, but somehow, it felt like too much.

His lips moved perfectly against mine, so perfect it was like the world suddenly wasn't a horrible place, like my life wasn't a mess and my ex-boyfriend didn't just cheat on me, like my other ex-boyfriend didn't die in front of my own eyes.

But Holt was here, he was holding me like I was made of glass, and usually I share an extreme hatred for feeling vulnerable in front of people, but the way Holt kissed me with so much softness, so much compassion and consideration, I felt okay.

I wanted him to hold me together, because currently, I feared if he wasn't holding me, then I'd be shattered everywhere and some pieces of me would be unable to be retrieve.

He's always been there. We may have never been friends—or whatever it is we are—until now, but nonetheless, he has always been there.

When Xavier assaulted me, he was there to protect me. When Everest died, he held me, and I think that's the only reason I didn't shatter then and there—break completely. When I had my anxiety attack, he found me. When Zayden cheated, he found me again.

It seems as though whenever the slightest inconvenience happens in my life, he's always there.

That's why I allowed myself to kiss him back right now, with every ounce of emotion that I had left in me.

His lips were even more addictive than himself in general, they were so damn soft and plump, warm and nice. I don't know how long our lips moved in sync, but I didn't need air yet and I wished I never needed to breathe again, because this moment was perfect.

I felt his hands slowly move from my waist, moving down south at a snail's pace until his large hands ducked under the skirt portion of my dress, his long fingers gripping the back of my thighs as he hoisted me up, causing me to squeal.

Our lips parted in the split moment he lifted me up, I wrapped my legs securely around his waist as his hands found their way further up my dress as he cupped my ass.

"Holt. . ." I panted.

He pecked my jawline, "Shh," he hushed, "I need more."

I obliged with his needs, because I needed it too.

I pressed my lips against his and this time the kiss wasn't as soft, is was fast and so intensely passionate, and even more heated as he fumbled with my butt, his hands massaging the burning skin on my behind.

This is too much.

He walked over to the bed, his knees hitting the mattress as he carefully placed me down, the lush covers feeling soft against my bare arms and legs, my feet dangling off the edge as he crawled between my legs, hovering over me.

He pulled away, and I was finally able to see how the kiss affected him.

His lips were swollen, from kissing and I bet mine were too. His eyes were hooded, and his orbs were dark, his cheeks having the slightest tinge of red.

"I think it's been seven minutes," I murmured.

He smirked, "Who said that heaven had to have a time limit?"

He's so poetic, without even realising.

"Touché." I mimicked.

He was such a sight, so perfect. I don't think I could point out a single flaw. I don't know what I did to deserve having him on top of me right now, staring at me with a hungry look.

It did feel weird, I had to admit. I never thought that I'd be kissing Holt, the bad boy. I never thought I'd find him so addicting or his voice and laugh so mesmerising, the world works in mysterious ways, yet somehow it didn't feel weird at all.

It felt so right. So completely right.

My entire body was on fire, simply from his touch, his heavenly kisses, and now I needed more.

"Do you know why I'd like to read minds?"

I shook my head, "You told me that you'd have to kill me if I knew, so do I really want to know?"

"It's because I'd like to know what you're thinking." He replied, ignoring my previous statement, "I notice how much you think. I want to know what's going on in that pretty little head of yours."

I was still on fire, more than ever. All he's doing is talking and it's somehow leaving me breathless.

"W-What do you want to know?"

He licked his lips, "I want to know exactly what you're thinking about, right now."

I blushed, "You first."

"I asked you first." He retorted.

I rolled my eyes, "I'm thinking about you." I stated, "I'm thinking about how amazing what just happened was, I'm thinking about how nice your hands feel against my skin, I'm thinking about how addictive your voice sounds when you call me angel, and I'm also thinking some sinful things."

He tugged his bottom lip between his teeth, seeming rather impressed with my response.

"And what would those things be, angel?"

I closed my eyes for a brief second, pulling myself together, "I'm thinking—that I don't know. . .It's hard to think when there's a heavy pile of guilt weighing down my stomach."

I was beginning to feel ill. Because whenever I am the slightest happy, life reminds me that I am not allowed to be happy as long as Everest is dead, oh my god.

I just kissed his brother, what the hell is wrong with me? I'm just as bad as Zayden, if not worse.

"Hey," he murmured softly, placing his hand on my cheek, his thumb rubbing the cold skin on my cheek, "Ignore the guilt. Just push it aside for one minute, and tell me what you're thinking."

I wanted so desperately to tell him what I was thinking, but I feared that if I utter those words, I'd be forced to face the reality of them, and I don't think I was ready for that. If I say what I'm thinking, I'm scared I might go to hell.

It's too late though, I've already kissed him. . .passionately. There's not much more to lose.

"I'm thinking that maybe I fell for the wrong brother."

Hiiiii my favourite people ♥♥

I know my normal uploading schedule is Wednesdays and Sundays, but I'm currently in the process of moving and dealing with a lot of change, so until I've moved and properly settled in, I'll only be uploading on Sundays. I'm really sorry x

Anyways I hope you liked this chapter, I really really enjoyed writing it.

I love you all. Please remember to vote and comment 🌟💕

See you Sunday.