Demyan
"I don't think you understand what I want," I frowned, "You're yo yoing with my emotions."
"How?" she snapped, "You want me to be who I used to be with the short skirts and the fun party girl. I'm trying to do that for you to make you happy."
"But not now," I argued, "Not at my Dad's birthday. My Pa just yelled at me at causing scenes at every family event. I don't need this right now Malia. You can't expect me to kiss you like we're alone and dry hump you into the middle of a hotel where anyone can see us then if they do you'll be upset."
"I won't be," she stomped.
"You will be," I furrowed my eyebrows, "You were throwing a fit because I kissed you at the yacht in front of people and now I should kiss you in front of my family too, so that when I wake up you can attack me again. You can't force yourself to be something you're not. You're still shy Malia."
"Then teach me how not to be shy," she pouted, "I can try."
