Malcolm blinked in surprise when the door opened to permit his fiancée. "You came!"
She stopped before reopening the door.
He looked at her, completely confused.
She held out her hand.
He took it with zero reservations and let her lead him out into the busy halls. Once out, she let his hand go but everyone was staring anyway. He definitely didn't like that.
"Hiding is stupid." She offered as an explanation.
He wanted to smile but figured she wouldn't like it. "Hiding is stupid."
"Have you thought of anything?"
He almost didn't know what she was talking about until he remembered their last conversation. He dug in his front pocket. "Yeah. I came up with a few things." He handed her a folded sheet of paper.
She unfolded it and scanned it. "Sports equipment? I didn't think of that."
"Do you like sports?"
Her eyes flicked up to look at him. "I do."
"Maybe you can come watch me play basketball? I can teach you the rules and stuff. It's better to play than watch."
She blushed at his offer. "I know how to play basketball."
"You do?" He got a perverse thrill out of her red face.
She nodded, images of watching him do any sort of physical activity bombarding her brain.
"Maybe we can play one on one sometime?" Both knew a basketball wouldn't be involved.
"I'll... add your stuff to the list."
"Wait." He just stared at her until she raised a brow. "Maybe we can go somewhere?"
"When? Now? I have class."
"No. I do, too. I meant maybe lunch? I have to eat, I think you do, too. Why can't we eat together?"
She swallowed. "I usually eat at the hospital."
"I can join you."
Her lips parted as she gave him a wide-eyed stare.
He hardened as he ached to capture those pillowy lips in a fiery kiss. He completely missed her answering.
"Malcolm!"
He jerked to attention. "Yes!"
"Where did you go?"
"Go?"
"You completely skipped town. Is anything wrong? You said you had to eat. What does that mean?"
"I'm diabetic. I can't have my blood sugar getting low."
"Diabetic?" Her eyes widened before narrowing. "But you're in shape?"
"I have Type 1." He smirked. "Thin people get Type 2 as well."
"Ouch. Seems no one's safe."
"No."
"I'm lactose intolerant."
He frowned. "Dairy?"
"Yup."
"I love cheese." He was hurt on her behalf.
She could tell and giggled.
He loved that sound! He faked being wounded so she'd continue giggling. "I'd hurt myself! Cheese is my life!"
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YOU ARE READING
Morphine
Romantizm"I can feel you; just like a drug..." Marceline Anne Taylor-Jones is what one would call a bad girl. She does what she wants when she wants because she wants. Malcolm Chang is what one would call a good boy. He follows the rules and does what's requ...