She's so beautiful. I watch Ava's closed eyes, the warm shower water engulfing us as we make out. Her hands roam my body, her red dress pooled by her feet. The sight alone leaves me breathless.

She eventually breaks our kiss, pulling up my t-shirt, and throwing the flimsy material to the floor. "You won't be needing that," she grins cheekily.

"Yeah?" I kiss her again, more vigorously this time, her breath hitching from the sudden contact. My mouth travels to her neck, leaving dark bruises to remember what this day will later become.

One of her hands stays in my hair, pulling it when I kiss her too deeply, the other digging into my back. I can feel scratches forming, becoming more, and more harsh the longer my mouth explores her body.

To exact some revenge, I pull her hair too, a lot harder than she did. A whimper escapes her throat, and I can't help but let one out myself. This is all very different with her.

Usually, I don't care much for the girls I'm with. In fact, I'm usually with them, trying to forget Ava, but here we are.

Ever since I saw Ava at the football game, I kept questioning why I couldn't seem to move on from someone that left me so easily.

But I've come to realise that perhaps it wasn't as easy for her as I thought it was. The way she's kissing me now, the attention she's putting into this, I realise she cares a whole lot more than I initially thought.

And I care a whole lot more too.