His lips trail down my neck, sending shivers all over. "I love looking at you," he breathes, brushing the hair off my shoulders. "Will you let me?"
My wild heart seeks his. "Yes."
For a long moment, I just feel his gaze. Then, his hands. They skim d...
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march 17th
N O A H
Is St. Patrick's Day a real holiday? It feels like an excuse for bars to sell cheap green beer and for Fox to call himself "half-Irish" because he wants to visit Dublin.
The crackle of eggs in the pan and the scent of butter fill the kitchen as I slide a spatula beneath the edges. Not green.
I was hoping to let the day pass without fanfare.
But this is my girlfriend.
Her bedroom door slams open down the hall, and there she is: lime green hoodie and a manic grin plastered across her face.
"WHY AREN'T YOU WEARING GREEN?!"
I blink, spatula pausing mid-air. Her hair is a sleek waterfall that falls past her waist. My brain stutters. It reminds me of a certain night in a certain closet.
Stunning, yes. But I miss her curls.
Jed looks up where he's sitting cross-legged by the TV, surrounded by small lit candles. "This feels unstable."
Camila jogs over to me, brandishing a plastic bag of things. "God, I love you in blue." Her hands tug at the sapphire-toned shirt I'm wearing. "Mmm. Something about the way it—No! That's not the point!"
I steal her hand and kiss it. For this, I'm granted a grin that stretches her lips. With that gap between her teeth peeking out, it's impossible not to smile with her. God, I love her smile. I'll do anything to keep it on her face—now, and the rest of our lives.
It's in the way she breathes—my love for her. It's tucked in breath. It's when she inhales as I touch her. It's my exhale across her lips. Breath is life. And, all in all, I think I'm most glad she's alive. So I tell her all the time, then she puffs out a shy laugh, and it starts over again in my head.
She hops up onto the counter, legs swinging, green socks scrunching at her ankles under dark sweatpants. The bag rattles as she digs into it, pulling out what looks like paint.
Ah, shit.
"Come here." Her brows wiggle, daring me.
I lean against the other counter, arms crossed. "No."
Before she can snap, the front door bursts open.
Fox makes her laugh, too.
That's what I'm thinking about as Fox, wearing a neon green onesie, drags a six-foot cardboard box into the living room like he's unveiling a prize on a game show.
"Gentlemen—and one feral woman—Welcome to the circus!"
"HELL YES, FRECKLES!" Cam nearly kicks her dog in the face as she sprints over. "I KNEW YOU'D COME THROUGH!"
