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I once read an article from a therapist that said a person needs at least four hugs a day for survival.
a DAY? I've gotten 4 in the last year 😅😅😅😅
Making my way from my room to the front door, Nash asks from the living room, “Where are you going this late dressed like a slut?” I look down at my gray sweatpants and have to laugh.
“We have the same birthmark,” I murmur, my eyes still on her cheek.
I wonder if shell have something that matches with each guy. Birthmark with Saylor. Birthday with North.
“You know, just because he’s good for your hole doesn’t mean he’s good for your soul,” Saylor teases, bringing humor back into the situation.
he didnt 😂😂😂😂😂
“When I think about you, I touch myself.” She lets out a short breath in reply, but I can see the side of her mouth turn up slightly before she counters, “Yeah, me too. I rub my temples because you give me a damn headache.”
“Do you want to go to the movies?” I whisper, and he furrows his brow, confused. Just as he’s about to answer, I add, “Wait, never mind, they don’t allow snacks inside.”
I’m a crier, not a quitter. I’m just gonna cry about it while I do it.
