“How’s it going?” Johnny asked, closing the space between us, voice understandably breathless from the exertion on the pitch. “Uh, it’s, ah, it’s going good,” I stumbled over my words, completely thrown off-kilter being this close to Johnny again. “Is it good for you?” I added lamely, and then immediately flamed in embarrassment. “You must feel good.” Sighing, I repressed the urge to groan and finished with a mumbled, “I mean, how’s it going for you…?” “It’s going good,” Johnny replied with a smile that deepened the two tiny dimples in his cheeks.
