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Tatiana Vila

“He stopped, resting his forehead on mine. “Kalista…” He sighed, cupping one side of my face. We remained like that, close to each other, waiting for our bated breaths to steady for countless minutes. Our lips warm and puffy from our kiss.
He looked at me. “Your lips taste better than I imagined, like cherry,” he said, brushing his thumb over my bottom lip.
He’d imagined our kiss. “That’s because of my cherry chapstick,” I smiled.
He pulled me closer, looking down at my lips. “I doubt it,” he whispered in a low voice.”


Tatiana Vila
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