SHEFELT.
    post-kiss, her thoughts are left blank and bare like a fresh sheet of loose leaf notebook paper. lines of expression pressed into the material but altogether free of any blemished emotions  â  itâs pure fondness pouring so brightly from her demeanor that it may have been bleeding from her pores. weird imagery, she knows, but it works. she thinks.
    she inhales through her nose, his breath tickling the hairs that have dared to escape the clip digging into her scalp, and she nearly sways into him again. to steal another wistful kiss, leap into his arms, who knows  âŠ. but instead her hands find the pockets of denim stitched carefully in her jacket and a stretch of a smile, her lips.Â
    â  first of all, itâs  SUNDAY.  â a brow arched. â  and, interestingly enough, i thought i outranked you. â
â  â- sunday?  â he mimics the same arched brow, mirrored images. like heâs kissing her from another dimension where theyâd once been the same person.Â
      â  did i really miss saturday?  â he muses, like heâs only asking himself.
she sort of smells like she mightâve bathed in sunshine. maybe, sort of. she was kinda like lemon candy that wasnât sour. at least. . . her lips were. and the breeze waves in to steal underneath the cuff of his jeans and cool his overheated skin. how stupidly quick she made him warm. maybe she was sunshine, who knows.Â
he kisses her again, over the pink of her lips and his own part just enough to be inappropriate. this rebelâs gonna take a chance, ride his bike without a helmet, turn in a project late. kiss his girlfriend like sheâs going on vacation and he wonât see her for a few days. despite the fact that heâs seen her everyday for the past week and theyâve got three classes together the next day. pathetic, and he laughs right into her mouth. smiles against their sidewalk kiss.Â
     â you donât outrank me today, captain. today, iâm the commander.  âÂ











