“Remember how when we were little?” I whisper. “You’d chase me around before midnight.” “Eight!” the television blares. “Seven!” Lo’s fingers comb into my hair as he holds my face. “You always ran out of breath.” I smile. “I wanted you to catch me.” His amber eyes dance along my features, like he’s engraining every detail. “I thought so.” “Five!” “Catch me,” I whisper. “Four!” “I already have,” he murmurs. Our bodies press together, as though they’ve never drifted apart, not for three months or years or any moment’s time. His lips touch mine, his hand gripping my hair. I pull even closer to
...more
