His & Mine | Sequel to Make It Known | DISCONTINUED

Chapter Two: Hickey

Chapter Two: Hickey

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Ophelia:

After our... talk, Luke helps me finish up a couple math problems and then drops me off at home just before dinner.

My head is still swimming. Get it together, Ophelia. I just can't stop thinking about it. He was almost... he could've gotten a...

A boner.

Oh gosh.

There was definitely a little bit of... you know. Um. Erection? But I wasn't sitting close enough to that part of him to really feel it, except I did see a bit of, erm, bulging in his jeans.

Is that supposed to scare me?

Because it doesn't.

Okay, maybe it does just a little.

It just makes me so... warm. More than warm, actually, but, anyways.

I have to focus on my English essay after dinner.

No thinking about... boners. Or kisses. Certainly not about Luke's mouth, or his hands, or his lips or tongue or that beautiful face of his.

Or, other parts of him.

"Hey, pumpkin. How was school?" Mom calls from the kitchen as I walk past on my way to my room.

"Same as always," I sigh.

"How dreadful," she remarks dryly. "Where's my kiss?"

I roll my eyes but fight back a smile. Can't come home from school without giving my mother a peck on the cheek to say hi.

Maybe I'm too old for it. But she doesn't ask for much so I guess I can indulge her.

I toss my bag onto one of the barstools and trudge over to the other side of the island, to where she's busy stirring something on the stove.

She puts the spoon down and pulls me into her arms for a quick hug and I plant one on her cheek as promised.

"So how's that essay goi—" She cuts herself off and the bright, easy smile on her face morphs into bemusement. Her eyebrows furrow, her eyes narrow.

She's looking at me funny.

Why is she looking at me funny?

A small herm. "Did you... go to Luke's house after school?" she inquires casually.

"Yep." I hope I'm not blushing from the memory of... all that happened earlier.

"What did you guys do?"

Okay, now I'm definitely blushing. "He helped me with my math homework."

"I see." She sounds... preoccupied. Now she has that look on her face that she gets when she's thinking hard about something.

I follow her gaze and it looks like her eyes are fixed below my chin, somewhere near my neck.

"What's wrong, Mom?"