Page 36 of When Love Is Unexpected

"I see," says Sam, nodding.

"So, what's your love language?" I ask.

"Kissing," he says.

"Kissing, huh? Do you mean physical touch? Kissing is a form of touching."

"Touching is one thing," he says. "Kissing is quite another."

Chapter 8

Sam

A few seconds go by, but Laila says nothing. I'm curious if she's mulling it over or if she's speechless.

"Show me," she says.

"What? You want me to kiss you?"

"I want you to show me the difference between physical touch and kissing."

I lean in and lightly kiss her on the cheek. Her skin is smooth and warm.

"You missed a spot," she says, touching her bottom lip with her index finger.

"You want me to kiss you on the lips?" I ask.

"If you're going to show me something," she says, "I expect you to be thorough."

"You're playing with fire," I say.

"You lit the bonfire," she says.

"You handed me the match."

"So, you're not going to kiss me?"

"No," I say.

She crosses her arms, which usually means she's mad.

I start laughing because it's the only thing I can do to keep from taking her in my arms and kissing her pouty lips.

"What's so amusing?" she asks.

"You're pouting."

"You're making me mad," she says.

"Because you're not getting your way?"

"I think it's time for me to leave."

"I don't want you to leave angry. Come here."

When I reach for her, she lets me pull her in for a hug.

"I do have to go," she says after a few seconds.

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