The Peninsula

The Fiction and Poetry Archive of Liana Mir and scribblemyname

Glances

Mar
12
This entry is part 2 of 4 in the series Whispers

It started with glances.

The first time Rogue saw Remy LeBeau, he was leaning on the banister staring at Kitty with a cocky smirk. His red eyes drank in the smaller girl, almost undressing her, but not quite so brazen.

Rogue had been uninterested, but Remy glanced at her and blinked in surprise before continuing his conversation.

Since then, whenever she walks into the same room with him, he glances over, then returns to what he was doing.

If he would stare, she could brush him off. If he would leer, she could ignore him. But he doesn’t.

He glances.

Whispers

Mar
12
This entry is part 1 of 4 in the series Whispers

There’s something different about the way he whispers. Something different in those urgent whispers as he draws his hand from the nape of her neck to the small of her back. Something different from the appreciative glances, lewd compliments, and in-your-face flirting he gives the other girls.

Something that makes her stop noticing when Bobby glances at Kitty. Stop staring at her boyfriend wistfully. Stop regretting the Cure.

Something that makes her blush every time that Remy looks at her. Something that lights a fire in her belly when he slides up behind her in some dark corner—and whispers.