Description
Everyone has a different story behind closed doors... Hunter POV "Who are you?" I spoke out She turned around quickly, quite shocked. "Ah, hi, sorry I wasn't snooping or anything. I happened to stumble across it. I'm Brontë. My eyes just locked on her; I didn't mean to -- she just caught my breath. Her curly golden hair fell just below her waist, accentuating her tan skin. Her dark brown eyes were a mix of grey and green, glistening with the light. She was wearing ripped black jeans and an oversized hoodie, along with a pair of Timberlands. I looked back up to her face, "You'd better go. The Lookout is no place for a girl like you."She nodded and walked past me, disappearing through the passage. I didn't mean to come across as rude. She just seemed dainty, like you don't want to mess with a girl like her. Brontë, I like it.
Brontë POV
