The flowers in them aren’t fake.
And I didn’t buy them.
Which means Zach’s still doing that.
I bite my lip as I think about when he started with this. I grabbed my last bunch from the grocery store when I remembered, which was around about the same time as invite-only night. Which was when he picked up on the habit of buying them.
For… me?
God, it is.
The actions are so unprecedented that I never picked up on the meaning behind them.
Until now.
Untilthatconversation.
Until the whole campus is about to find out that we’re sleeping together.
I cover my face with my hands.
Why is this everything I never even bothered dreaming of?
Why ishethat?
“Denny?”
“Why are you buying me flowers?” I choke out, turning to look at him.
He rubs the back of his neck. “You like them but…”
“But?”
“You forget about them a lot. I-I decided not to let you forget.”
The stutter.
Fuck.
My.
Life.
His dad might have told him pro-hockey players shouldn’t have stutters, but fuck him. And fuck the toxic locker room BS. Becausefuck me, that is the hottest thing to ever pass his lips and I’ve had them attached to my clit!
I stalk over to him.
His eyes widen in surprise, but he plants and braces himself.
I’m not sure what he thinks I’m about to do, but when I fling my arms around his neck, he moans in relief.
When our mouths join, he kisses me.Sinks into me. Breathes with me. And it’s so wonderful. Yet more of that stuff I never imagined experiencing for myself.
“Why are my lips burning?” he mumbles between kisses.
I choke out a laugh when I see more of the gloss is on him than me. “Your lips are going to be pouty soon.”
Said lips part. “You did this on purpose?”
