Chlo

“He turned to leave, then hesitated. "One more thing."
He walked up to me. "I've also been thinking about your declaration of undying love or whatever."
"I didn't - it wasn't -"
He clamped his hands on the sides of my gooey face and kissed me.
I had to wonder: was it possible to dissolve into chocolate on a molecular level and melt into a puddle on the carpet? Because that's how I felt. I'm pretty sure Valhalla had to resurrect me several times during the course of that kiss. Otherwise, I don't know how I was still in one piece when Alex finally pulled away.
He studied me critically, his brown and amber eyes taking me in. He had a chocolate moustache and goatee now, and chocolate down the front of his sweater vest.
I'll be honest. A small part of my brain thought, Alex is male right now. I have just been kissed by a dude. How do I feel about that?
The rest of my brain answered: I have just been kissed by Alex Fierro. I am absolutely great with that.
In fact, I might have done something typically embarrassing and stupid, like making the aforementioned declaration of undying love, but Alex spared me.
"Eh." He shrugged. "I'll keep thinking about it. I'll get back to you. In the meantime, definitely take that shower."
He left, whistling a tune that might have been a Frank Sinatra song from the elevator, "Fly Me to the Moon".”
― Rick Riordan, The Ship of the Dead