I like your reaction to the flowery nickname; I'll have to make sure it sticks. It definitely works with those pretty little kitty cat claws of yours. I quickly shift my train of thought away from how they'd feel digging into my arms, shoulders, or back.
I almost panic as a slight zing rushes up my spine. Once I know that my quirk hasn't spontaneously activated, I realize that's my body's reaction to your soft stroke against my hand. Maybe I'm being greedy, but I want more.
I barely process your response to my line before my free hand is twitching with the need to feel if your hair is as silky as it looks cascading dazzlingly in the light. Damn, why do I feel so poetic? But it's you isn't it. That's just one of the many effects you have on me and why, the social butterfly that I am, have always been so hesitant, too intimidated, to approach you like this.
But what's that old saying? In for a penny in for a pound. My hand feels foreign as I stop holding it back. It's apparently feeling just as greedy as me since it doesn't stop at just brushing aside your hair, my fingers dig slightly into the downy fluff as my thumb traces gently down from your temple to jaw. I leave it there as my eyes wander towards yours, a hopeful smirk forming on my lips as they release a string of digits, my phone number. I'm feeling a bit distracted, so I clarify, "That's how you call a blonde." ⚡
There is a moment between us when time stands still, at least for me: with our fingers laced, your gentle hand on my face, eyes locked onto each other. They talk about this moment in movies. This moment where stars align and things feel so perfectly right that you just know. And as I stand here, awestruck and lost in the entirety that is you, I know.
I barely process your words. It's as if all the breath has left my body, as if my mind has been cleared of everything but you. I don't realize just how far I've leaned in towards you until you state your clarification. "Oh!" I pull away? Keeping our hands intertwined, to pull out my phone, I quickly tap the number in with one hand and shoot you a quick text.
Then I turn my attention back to you, showing you your contact information to confirm I got the number right. Your name is listed as "⚡hot blond Kami 💖 ".
I smile playfully, "damn, handsome, you really are as smooth as they say." And while you're distracted with my phone, I lift your hand to my lips and press a soft kiss along your knuckles. It's more to fluster you than anything, to gauge your reaction and see just how far I can tease you.
