Love You Psychotically

The study session started off fine.

Textbooks. Notes. Her in my hoodie again. Me trying not to look directly at her thighs because they were out. Again.

You know, normal.

And then she hit me with it — mid-sentence, mid-equation, like a landmine casually dropped between chapters.

> "Do you ever get horny?"

My pencil snapped. I didn't even realize I was holding it that tight.

I turned slowly. "Oh my God, Cel— I mean, Val."

She grinned like she'd just won a prize. "See? You can learn."

I stared at her. "That's what you're proud of? The fact that I caught myself mid-name right after asking me something like that?"

She leaned on one elbow, chin in palm. "But I'm serious. How do you cope with it?"

"With what?"

She blinked innocently. "The horniness."

I groaned. "Please stop saying that word."

> "Why? It's a good word. Horny. Horny. Hoooorn—"

"Val."

She giggled. Then dropped the bomb.

"Do you just jack off to…?" She paused. Tilted her head. "To me?"

She was watching me now.

No. Studying me. Like this was the actual assignment.

I didn't even get the chance to deny it — or lie, or pretend I didn't know what "jack off" meant — before she leaned in close.

"Do you wanna do it now?" she asked. Her voice was low, sweet, sinful. "I wanna watch."

I looked up at the ceiling like it held answers. It didn't.

"I'm in hell," I muttered.

She laughed. Actually laughed. Then leaned back and sighed dramatically.

> "Fine. I'll shut up."

She turned to her textbook, pulled it closer, and started reading like a normal human.

Except — she wasn't normal. Ever.

Which is why, after five minutes of silence, I was sweating.

She didn't touch me.

Didn't hum.

Didn't throw her legs over my lap.

Didn't call me Virgin Boy or offer to straddle me mid-essay.

Just sat there. Quiet, reading.

I glanced at her. "Val?"

"Hmm?" she replied, not looking up.

"…Are you okay?"

> "Yep."

I blinked. "Wait… are you mad?"

> "No."

That's when I knew I messed up.

I tried again. "I'm sorry if I—"

She cut in cheerfully, face lighting up like it never went dark.

> "So can I watch?"

I blinked. "You're literally the devil."

She pouted. "You don't wanna?"

"Oh my God, Val, you're so manipulative."

She tilted her head and giggled. "What? That's how I am. Deal with it."

Then, just like that, she slipped next to me, draped her arms over me, and buried her face into my shoulder.

"I love you," she whispered. Just like that. No build-up. No lead-in. No warning.

I froze.

Literally froze.

She didn't move. Didn't tease. Didn't even wait for a response.

She just sighed again — this time softer, gentler — like she'd been holding it in and now it was out.

"You don't have to say it back," she murmured. "Take your time. I'll wait."

I didn't know what to say.

I didn't know if I could say anything.

My chest was tight. My brain was fried.

My heart? Loud. So loud.

And she didn't even push it.

She just stayed there. Soft, warm, dangerous and beautiful.

Wrapped around me like she wasn't a walking, talking red flag with violent tendencies and a black card.

I thought about everything.

The way she never listened.

The way she always got her way.

The chaos, the mood swings, the obsession.

The way she threatened me for using her name and smiled while doing it.

And still…

At that moment, I realized something horrifying…

I didn't want her to shut up anymore.

I didn't want her to stop being the way she was.

Because maybe I was just as messed up… for starting to like it.

---

To be continued...