“Did it feel good?” I asked, and I chuckled a bit when her neck flashed a deep red. “Writing, I mean.” “Oh,” she said, her eyes falling to her hands on my chest again. “Yes, actually. It felt… like coming home.” I smiled at that. “I love your writing.” “You only loved it because half the time I was writing about your stupid ass,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Fair. I wonder if anything’s changed. Maybe I should go take a peek…”
