Lipstick (Luke Hemmings)
“I like your lipstick, what colour is it?” He pointed towards my red-stained lips with a cheeky grin – it agitated me. I didn’t even know who he was.
The space between my brows creased, “uh, red?”
Confused, a little smile appeared on my face at how cheeky he was but I dropped it. “Can I borrow it?” Swiftly, he places his lips against my mine, his plumps lips brushing against it forcefully yet slowly but before I could push him away in surprise, he pulls away and then he smirks. “Strawberry?”
“Lipstick doesn’t have flavours, I think,” I murmured, my cheeks crimson.
“It’s strawberry, bring watermelon tomorrow, yeah?”
And I, being the stupid person I am, brought watermelon the next day.
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