I thought fantasizing about a dream kiss with Nate was bad, but fantasizing about a real one is a thousand times worse.
The damage is done.
My thoughts are out of control.
Every time I close my eyes, I picture Nate’s hands on my body and his warm lips coaxing mine. I imagine the taste, the smell, the warmth, and then suddenly, I’m throwing my covers off to get relief from the heat.
I may have pretended in the elevator that enjoying his kiss was all just an act, but I was lying.
LY-ING.
That kiss hit in all the right ways.
And I hate him for it.
I hate him for having power over me.
And I especially hate him for kissing me like that.
It’s going to be a long, sleepless night.
* * *
@girl_sees_the_world:
I can’t sleep. I need a distraction.
@worth_traveling_to:
Am I your distraction?
I’m notsurprised by the quick response. It’s around noon in Arizona, not two a.m. like in Bangkok.
@girl_sees_the_world:
I hope so. Tell me something. Anything. I need something new to think about.
@worth_traveling_to:
Do you ever eat at Chick-fil-A?
@girl_sees_the_world:
Interesting subject choice.
@worth_traveling_to:
Hey, you said to tell you something. Anything. Don’t hate on me when I choose something.
@girl_sees_the_world:
You’re right. Sorry. Yes, I occasionally eat at Chick-fil-A.
@worth_traveling_to:
I always get weirded out when they say, “My pleasure,” after everything. I know it’s meant to be super nice, but they say it so much that it doesn’t feel genuine anymore. I don’t think they’re getting any pleasure out of serving me my food.
I laugh, curling into the extra pillow beside me on the bed.