Page 13 of A Slice of Love

“You’ve never even seen my ankles,” I argue as he slides his arm around my waist and drags me into him.

“I don’t need to. I bet they’resuperhot.”

“You are s-so—”

My words falter when he grazes my neck with his nose, running it up the length, breathing me in.

“So what?”

“A-Annoying,” I finish, clutching his shoulders as my knees begin to shake.

“Huh. You’re notactinglike I’m annoying.”

“You are. Trust me.”

“Duly noted. Oranges.”

“Apples.”

“What?”

“Oh, I thought we were just naming random fruits.” I smirk.

He shakes his head then places a soft kiss on my jaw. Then another just a few centimeters above the last. “You always smell like oranges. That’s one of my favorite things too.”

“I love orange juice.”

“I know, Frank.” Another kiss. “I see you with it every morning.”

“Oh. Right.”

He chuckles, and I can feel it right down to my toes. “Your shyness.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, it’s cute. Just like your hair.” He tugs on the ends of the wild strands, something he keeps doing—something I’m starting to love, which is weird because I hate my crazy hair. “Just like your glasses too.”

“I want contactssobad.”

He kisses me again. And again. His lips are getting dangerously close to my lips now. “Just like your eyes. They’re cute too. I’ve never seen brown eyes so full of—”

“Shit?” I say. “Because they’re the color of poop.”

He laughs again. “You want to know my favorite thing about you, Frank?”

I nod in response, because there’s no way I could talk in this moment even if I tried. Not when his lips are so, so close to mine.

“Your mouth.”

And he proves it to me.

* * *

I was right.

My world did shift.

A boy stayed the night.

---