tumblinas.

Things I wont ever forget or how to tell he is lying even if his lips aren't moving.

…the mesmerising sight of him sitting in my car, denying that he was still in contact with her, sweating. Hard, like an actor under the lights.

I watched as first, beads peppered his brow and his top lip. His hair dampened along his forehead as the sweat made salty tracks down his face, into his beautiful green eyes, joining the pool collecting at his chin before falling off.

I stiffled a laugh. If this was anyone else, if he was anyone else, if it wasn’t my heart being dissolved by his sweaty tell, it would be funny.

He left the car to take a piss. I watched him in my mirror wishing I could put the car in reverse.