Hugh Biggs had whiskey eyes that didn’t look away. Instead, they stayed right on mine, warm and kind and chasing away the scary feeling in my head. Caoimhe always told me to stop staring so hard at people. She said it was creepy and weird. But this boy didn’t seem to mind. “Your eyes are nice,” I told him, feeling my heart flip-flop when I looked at him. “I like them.” “Uh, thanks?” His cheeks reddened. “I like yours, too.” “Your face is red.” He shifted in discomfort. “So is yours.”
🥰🥰🥰
