His eyes didn’t move from my lips as he responded. “No. I’m not like him because usually I don’t want to do the right thing.” Either his proximity or my glass and a half of sugary-sweet alcohol were responsible for the heated deliberateness of my beating heart; I guessed it was a little of both. The air seemed to change and become slower—thicker. I felt like something important had just happened, but I was too foggy to grasp it. I did know that the way he was looking at me made my lower belly feel delightfully achy and full. However, before I could consider the issue further, he kissed me.
