I catch his elbow. “Strawberry,” I whisper, more to myself than to him.“I love strawberry.”
Which is so fucked up.I know.
He turns back around—and God fucking help me, it’s all I can do not to crash my mouth into his.
I glance over my shoulder. Clear.
So, without another thought, I slip my hand to the back of his neck, finger fucking those silky strands of dirty-blond hair. My gaze locks on his shimmery lips, and naturally, my hand follows.
I trail my fingers down the nape of his neck, across the curve of his jaw, skimming his flushed cheek before finally brushing over his pretty pout.
“Alex,” he whisper-speaks.
I press down lightly on his bottom lip, needing to feel his words rather than hear them.
His lips tremble beneath my touch.
Figure it out.
Figure it out.
Figure it the fuck out!
I figure, the more I think, the more I want to swim in those oceans of blue… and eat fucking strawberries.
I also figure I have a boyfriend.Andhis name is not Noah!
God fucking damn it!
It’s like he cast a damn spell over me. Voodoo or something. Hypnotizing me with those striking blue eyes. And those lips… don’t even get me started on those lips.
Nrgh.
This must be a dream. Could also be my imagination because I certainly am tired.
Yeah. Tired of pretending I don’t feel this.
Tired of trying to look away.
Tired of trying to figure this out—whateverthisis.
Tired. Tired. Tired.
I run my thumb under his lip. “God, Noah. You’re so pretty.”
My fingers tremble as they leave his face, raking through my hair in a desperate attempt to pull myself together.
But my eyes stay locked on his. I can’t look away.
“Do you see the rain?” he asks.
What?
“Rain,” he repeats.
I heard him the first fucking time.
I blink and glance toward the windows. There’s nothing but neon lights bleeding into the sky.
