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He just continues to stare at me, his hazel-colored eyes full of longing. Full of yearning. Full of desire. For me. It hits me harder and cuts me deeper than any indifference and disappointment ever could. Because he’s looking at me the way he always has. Like time hasn’t passed. Like nothing has changed. Like he needs me. Like he loves me.
The tone of his voice is low, but his words are laced with unfiltered jealousy. And I love it.
“Frankie,” he interrupts, opening his eyes to meet mine. “Yeah?” “Shut up and kiss me.”
I kiss him. Again and again and again, till my mouth is below his ear. “Welcome home,” I whisper.
