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“Sum?” he calls out, looking around, but not seeing me behind the romance aisle.
I step into view with my phone still in my hand and a few books under my arm.
He looked from concerned, back to having a smile on his face when he sees me. He points to the food. “Time to stuff our faces,” he announces.
I nod and grab a barstool for him to sit on. I move the one that sits behind the register desk and bring it to sit beside him as he places my sub in front of me.
“Wait, before we get started eating, and because my sandwich has pickles,” he says pulling my stool to his. He leans in slowly and as our lips touch, I part my lips out of instinct and his tongue sweeps in. His hand moves to my waist and my hand goes to his knee. The kiss is intense and takes my breath away so that when we part, I’m in a daze and almost gasping for air.
“I don’t know if I will ever get used to that,” he whispers, pressing his forehead against mine.
“Thank you for remembering my pure hatred for pickles,” I reply as he releases me, and we dive into our lunch in silence.
With my mind worrying still as to whether or not getting involved romantically is a good idea.
