Prompted by: LesleyLu5
Digging my fingers into his arm, I hang on for dear life.
He called me kiddo.
My voice sounds distant, feels foreign on my tongue, “You remember my nickname.”
He’s silent for a long moment. So long I’m convinced that he might never speak again.
It doesn’t matter. I’ve waited ten years. I’ll wait forever.
At last, he chokes out, “I remember everything about you.”
My breath catches. My heart stutters. My knees go weak in an instant.
I stiffen my spine. Circle around to stand in front of him. Meet his gaze steadily.
Because he’s wrong. So very wrong. I’m not a kid.
Reaching up to gently cup his face with both hands, I can’t help but smile. The familiar edge of his jawline still fits perfectly, cradled in my palms. My thumbpad skims over the faded silver scar slashed across his left cheek. “Well, if that’s the case…”
He doesn’t move a muscle. He doesn’t even twitch.
I lean up on my tiptoes until our lips almost touch and whisper, “You should remember this.”
With a loud groan, he immediately seizes my hips.
“Are you sure?”
What’s the prompt for next week, guys?
Make suggestions below. 7 words or less.