Day 3: I choose HEATED KISS!_____________________________It was nights like this he wasn’t sure why he bothered trying to talk to her. The months had passed with the two of them doing this little dance that neither of them seemed to know the steps to. She didn’t approve of some of the things he did, and he pretended not to care how she felt. He tried to push past her defenses, and she clammed up even tighter.Eventually one of them would budge again, the other would crack a smile, and they’d flow tentatively back into whatever weird kind of friendship it was that they shared.But tonight was different. Nothing was getting through to her. He felt a familiar pang of worry, one that he’s only felt twice in his life – she was going to leave. For real. She was going to pack up her part of the deal, take her ship and her crew, and leave.She was going to leave him. He tried to get her to listen, he kept talking. She talked back. His voice grew; so did hers. He talked over her. She yelled at him. He yelled back. He bared down on her. She warned him not to get any closer.But he did. He got too close.And then her hand, out of nowhere, cracked open palmed against his face. The sting of it stole his breath. He hovered there, slack-jawed. Her hand print flared on his cheek. He gasped as he stared down at her.And then his hand, out of nowhere, caught on the back of her neck and pulled her up and toward him even as he was baring down on her again. His lips met her lips. Her back met the wall.