I bend down and reach out to wrap my fingers around her high, bouncy ponytail. I give it two firm tugs, watching the way the light hits the column of her throat. She growls with annoyance, but it doesn’t scare me. “Goodnight, Rosie Posie.” “Fuck you, Junior. I hate you.” The old insult flies so easily from her lips, but it does nothing to wipe the smile from my face. “I thought I told you to get off my dock.” I relax my hand, and the silky strands of her hair slip through my fingers. I hear the soft whoosh of her breath as I let go. And then I turn and walk away. This may not be her dock, but
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Why am I giggling like an idiot rn???
