“I’m not, but you are.” He had flashed a catty grin up at me. “And I can tell you want me to kiss you.” I had. So, so badly. So badly, I kept thinking about what that mouth of his tasted like . . . Did it taste like the drinks he had, or the spearmint gum in his back pocket? Were his lips as soft as they looked? Did he bite? I pulled myself out of the memory and averted my eyes to my shoes. “What are you doing here?” Those green eyes turned playful. “I’m here to kiss you.”
