Page 14 of A Slice of Love

A boy stayed the night at my house. In mybed.

Not just any boy.

Jonas.

I’m falling for him.

I know it sounds silly and probably a little stupid, but I can’t help it. He makes me feel so…me.

It’s not just his kisses—which are incredible, and I’m practically an expert in them now because all we did last night was kiss. Over and over again.

No, it’s more than that.

It’s the way he makes me laugh. The way he looksatme, not through me. The way he talks to me, not at me.

It’s everything.He’severything.

“What kind of sprinkles do you want?” Jonas shouts from the bottom of the stairs. He’s been in the kitchen for the last five minutes making us sundaes.

Junk food is a big no-no in our house, so every time my parents go out of town, I feast on whatever I want.

With Jonas coming over this weekend, Imighthave gone a little overboard with it. I loaded up on chips, cookies, crackers…and enough supplies to make roughly six sundaes.

“Yes!” I reply from my perch on my bed, sketchpad in hand, pencil flying over the page as I work on my latest creation.

He laughs. “Roger that.” Another minute passes then I hear, “Incoming!”

He bounds up the stairs and down the hall, appearing in my doorway with two massive bowls of ice cream. Both are piled high with the last of our supply of candies, sprinkles, and crumbled-up cookies.

I have no idea why we’re eating this—again—but we have to.

Jonas leaves tonight. My parents are coming home bright and early in the morning.

Technically he could stay, and we’d just wake up super early, but we decided it’s best not to risk it.

I’m trying not to think about it, trying hard just to focus on the now and not anything else.

“Stop thinking about it or you’re not getting your ice cream.” He stands above me, bowl in hand, brows lifted high. “And you’d really be bummed because this is my best fucking sundae so far.”

My cheeks color at the foul language, and he doesn’t miss it.

Ever since I told him I like it when he says it, he keeps using it.

I think it’s just so I’ll crawl into his lap and kiss him again. Joke’s on him, because I’d do it anyway just to feel him against me again.

I set my sketchpad down and hold my hands out. “I’m not thinking about it. Give me the goods.”

“Come on,” he says, nodding toward the floor. “Let’s eat over here, under the stars.”

“They’re not real stars, Jonas.” I roll my eyes but scoot off the bed anyway, following him.

During one of our many make-out sessions last night, Jonas realized I have some of those glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to my ceiling and quickly became entranced by them. Since then he’s been making us eat all our meals under them.

“I know, but they’re as close to a romantic meal under the stars as we’re gonna get until college. Now sit.”

I do. He hands me my bowl of ice cream as he takes a seat with his own.

“I can’t wait until college.”

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