Page 47 of You Said I Was Your Favorite

The exact same.

Our fingers brush. Once. Twice. And then he retreats, removing his hand completely. The disappointment that leaves me hollow is overwhelming and I release a shaky breath, scared he might not notice.

Smiling when I realize he did.

The chatter as everyone starts to enter the classroom after lunch is extra loud and I lift my head, blowing out a harsh breath. That is still my favorite scene, but it doesn’t look like my anonymous friend left me a note in response.

The disappointment I feel is crushing.

I turn the page, my heart lodging in my throat when I realize there is a response. In that same bold, masculine handwriting.

You like it subtle.

A smile touches my lips. Yes, I do like it subtle. And this isn’t a girl. A girl wouldn’t sayI like it subtle. She’d say,that’s my favorite part too! Or something like that.

This is a boy who’s trying to figure out…what? What I like? What I don’t like? Why does he care? What does it matter?

I flip through the book, finding another Post-it note in a section I haven’t read, a few sentences underlined with pencil accompanied by the note.

I like this.

My gaze drops to the lines he haphazardly underlined, my heart rate accelerating.

Her lips are pink and all I can think about is kissing them.

I do exactly that. I kiss her with everything I’ve got and she opens to me easily. Too easily. I cup her cheek, streak my fingers across her soft skin as I slowly circle my tongue around hers.

Slow. Searching. Tasting. Learning.

Until she’s moaning. Whimpering. Clutching the front of my shirt. Begging for it without saying the words.

She wants me.

“Okay, Michael, will you shut the door, please? It’s so loud out there,” Mrs. Nelson says, startling me.

I glance up and around me, but no one is paying attention. Not a single soul. Not even Mrs. Nelson, who currently has three students surrounding her desk, all of them asking questions about last night’s homework assignment.

I finished it—not with ease, but I eventually got it and completed the assignment. Stayed up way too late working on homework so maybe that’s why I keep finding myself in my head. Having thoughts of a certain someone kissing me just like the passage I read.

Scrambling, I get my textbook out, along with the bag I like to keep my pens and pencils in. I unzip it, digging through all the pens until I pull out a pastel blue highlighter pen from a set Dad gave me for Christmas.

I grab my Post-its next, scribbling a note across it, my pulse racing like I just ran a mile. I’m breathless, excited and when I slap the Post-it on the page within, I shut the book and shove it in the desk cubby, along with the pen.

And then, like the good girl I want to be, I sit up straight and flip open my textbook to the pages we discussed yesterday. Hand my homework to Mrs. Nelson when she asks for it after doing roll call. Pay attention to everything she says, dutifully taking notes. Squinting at the problems she writes out on the white board, getting them almost immediately.

Thank goodness.

All the while I’m aware of the book inside the desk. The words he underlined in my head. The string of four words getting to me the most.

Slow. Searching. Tasting. Learning.

What would it be like, getting kissed like that? So thoroughly, so deliciously, you’d be left a shivery, overwhelmed mess? I want to know.

I want to know if Arch kisses like that.

My guess is yes.

Yes, he does.

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