I was sulking - over what I don't remember anymore.
He paid it no mind and instead, playfully wrapped an arm around my neck and rocked it back and forth - not quite a bear hug, more of a cub strangle.
I shot him a mock-dagger look only to be met by a pair of eyes twinkling with mischief. He was bad news : the "town whore" was an accurate - if loving - moniker. And yet, when he drew me closer, I didn't bother to resist.
I closed my eyes as our lips met in a moist, tender kiss. He had full lips - the kind I like to nibble and suckle on when I smooch. It was warm in that crooked embrace, and in this brash, boisterous, flirtatious boy I caught a glimpse of my old self again.
And then we kissed some more, and I remember thinking how good it was to kiss. To surrender to passion, to lust, to sexual excitement again - even if love wasn't in the equation.
Our lips parted. I opened my eyes to look at him.
And then I woke up.
