This Love | ✓

Part 33

"Stop . . . stop it," I cried as I burst into another fit of giggles brought on by the hilarious stories that Jason was telling about his high school math teacher. "My stomach hurts."

"He came into class one day, completely hungover," Jason continued anyway, toying with the strands of my hair that fell across his shoulder. "He had all our graded tests with him. But before giving them out, he went on a rant about the stupid mistakes that students make during math exams."

I raised my head to look at him as a reminiscent smile edged his lips.

"I'll never forget what he said," he laughed. "'Some mistakes can be avoided, some others can't. For example, you can avoid making stupid mistakes in your exams, but you all are mistakes that your parents couldn't avoid making.'"

"That's awful," I cried, half-gasping and half-laughing.

"He would insult us like that all the time," he chuckled. "But we loved his class, anyway."

The afternoon sun fell into the bedroom in big shafts as our combined laughter reverberated through my body.

"I love making you laugh," Jason said softly, framing my face with his hands. "You're so beautiful."

He spoke those words with an admiring honesty that liquefied my insides. His voice -- a smooth, deep hush -- made me feel as though he were sharing a big, precious secret with me.

"You're beautiful," I whispered to him, leaving a trail of butterfly kisses down his defined jaw. "I really, really like you, Jason Hunter."

"I really, really, really like you, Leena Faye," he replied, punctuating each 'really' with a kiss to my lips.

Suddenly, the air around us crackled with electricity as I became acutely aware of my body lying on top of his. I closed my eyes and lowered my head until our lips met, wondering how it was possible for every kiss to feel as incredibly electrifying as the first.

Just as Jason's fingers sneaked under the hem of my shirt, my phone let out a bleep, eliciting a groan of frustration from my throat.

"Must be Claire," I muttered, climbing out of bed to reach the wooden desk that stood to the far left.

But when I unlocked my phone, I found a text from Zach instead.

"It's Zach," I said to Jason as I composed a reply. "He wants to know why I didn't come to the store yesterday and today."

The moment I pressed Send on my reply, an idea occurred to me. 

"Hey, can we invite David and Zach over for dinner tonight?" I asked, turning to Jason questioningly. "They bought dinner for us last time . . ."

"Yeah," Jason approved of my idea with an enthusiastic nod. "Sure!"

"Another double date," I squealed under my breath as I fired off a second text message to Zach.

***

"We've brought playing cards," Zach announced once the four of us were settled on the spacious couch in the living room. Setting a rectangular box on the coffee table, he grinned, "David and I use it to play strip—"

David interrupted his boyfriend by coughing into his fist. "They don't need to know that!"

Jason and I exchanged glances and snorted with laughter.

"Please, they won't mind," Zach waved his hand, causing our laughter to die down. "I mean, can't you tell what they've been up to lately, alone in this big house?"

In a haste to hide my flaming cheeks, I stood up. 

 "Um, I'll call for Chinese takeout," I said, hurrying into the spacious kitchen.

Twenty minutes later, the four of us were sitting around the coffee table, steaming takeout containers clasped in our hands. David opened the box of cards, setting the deck on the coffee table.

"You guys know how to play poker, right?" Zach asked.

Jason and I looked up from our food, shaking our heads in unison, "No."

"Innocents," Zach scoffed with a mocking grin.

"Stop teasing them," David chided him jokingly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I know a simple game we can play. My grandma taught it to me. It's called Slap."

"Your grandma?" Zach scoffed again. "You're too cute."

David, blushing at Zach's adoring tone, proceeded to explain the rules of the game. 

"Because there's four of us, each will get thirteen cards. You can't look at your cards. You'll keep them face down and when it's your turn, you have to throw one card face-up into the centre. If the card that you threw matches the one that was thrown by the previous player, whoever slaps the deck with their hand first collects all the cards. You lose when you run out of cards."

Having vaguely understood the rules, Jason, Zach, and I agreed to play. When David dealt the fifty-two cards and the game started, our food became second priority. Slap turned out to be a game of explosive laughter, cries of frustration, quick hands, and immense fun.

David was exceptionally good at the game because of practise, while the rest of us barely kept up. He laughed with smug delight as the three of us shouted in exasperation every time he won.

"Yes," I shrieked triumphantly when I slapped my hand on the pile several turns later, Jason, David, and Zach's hands slamming on top of mine a second too late. Gathering the stack of cards, I grinned at the three boys. "Too slow."

They are my friends, I thought happily as I laughed along with Zach and David.

My heart brimmed with affection and disbelief when I glanced at Jason. His mismatched eyes laughed into mine, filled with tenderness and warmth.

He's my boyfriend. Mine.

I was euphoric with joy as the foreign sensation of belonging coursed through my veins. Sitting around the coffee table, I desperately wished, hoped, and prayed that I could feel this way forever.