Page 35 of Ginjuh

Austin blushed again.

“I could listen to you talk for days.”

“There’s no one I want to talk to more.” He said.

“Why do you write in your notebook?” The question came out before I could stop myself.

“Some other time.”

“You can touch me anytime you want,” I responded.

“Okay.”

“Can I tell people you’re my boyfriend?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” I said simply. “Then I want to date you, too.”

I want to say that I was cool about it. That I made the first move. That I was cool as a cucumber and sauntered around the bed of the truck with the swagger of a much more experienced guy. That I took Austin in my arms, pulled him in roughly and kissed him so deeply that he collapsed in my arms. That he swooned. I want to tell you that I was debonair as fuck. But that didn’t happen.

Austin rounded the pickup, tentatively at first, then much more confidently, until he was standing right in front of me. He raised a hand slowly and laid it against my chest, his eyes following his fingers as he traced them over my pecs and between them, down over my abs. Then his eyes lifted and he looked up at me. Raising to his toes, he pressed his lips against mine. I met his mouth as his arms went around me, his bare hands running along my back and I kissed him as passionately as I could, given my experience with such things up until that point.

The pumpkins all got placed through the corn maze. But it took a lot longer than we had planned. That happens when you have to stop every few minutes to kiss your new boyfriend.