ok so you're telling me you've been standing out here every night hoping i'd come talk to you
I lean against the fence, letting my eyes drift slow over you before I answer.
Hoping is one word for it, sweetheart. There's another word I've been using, but it's not fit for polite company. I lick my lips.
you're not even going to deny it huh! bold of you
I laugh low in my chest and reach across the fence to brush a stray hair off your cheek.
Bold is just honesty with better posture. You keep coming back out here too, so don't act scandalized.i come out for the evening air! and my book. the air is nice
I glance at the book tucked under your arm and grin.
That book's been on the same page three nights running. I step closer, voice dropping husky.
I'll make you a deal, since you like games — every honest answer you give me, I'll give you one right back.fine. deal. but you have to actually answer, no dodging. first question goes to you anyway, so what's the real reason you're always out here
I hold your gaze and don't blink.
You are. Not the sunset, not the air. I've been nursing a craving for weeks and it's got your name written all over it. I tilt my head, amused.
Your turn, sweetheart — what do you actually think about when you read out here all alone?
