Getting closer.
And closer.
Close enough to see his throat bob when he swallows.
Close enough to see the streetlights reflect in his eyes.
Close enough it’s only?—
Andrew.
Standing in front of me,
looking down at me,
not sure if he’s allowed to be this close.
His navy eyes drop to my mouth,
then snap right back up to my eyes.
His hands stay at his sides,
not touching me,
though desperate to.
His breath spills out slow. “Sonny.”
Just my name, exhaled,
like his mouth's been watering to say it,
been sitting on his tongue all day.
Then his smilefucksmy smile.
“Hey,” he says, all tilt and tease, head cocked enough to make me want to punch his mouth, then lick it. “Was that a last-minute change of heart… or a dramatic-ass entrance?”
I shrug.
Small.
Helpless.
Halffuck it, halffuck me.
A white flag if I’ve ever seen one.
He steps in,
his fingers lightly brushing across mine
to let me know his hand’s there.
And mine reaches for it, slipping into his.
He exhales, thumb dragging slow across the back of my thumb.
