Ink cartridge in place, John took one of Leah's hands and started massaging it. "Quit it," she protested, ignoring how good it felt--as well as the return of those annoying butterflies.
"Massaging my hand. Yours are all inky."
"Yours are, too. What are you afraid of?"
She blushed. "I am not afraid of you."
"Your pupils just dilated."
"Did not." How did he get so close?
"Yeah, they did. You're either afraid or excited," he smiled, raising an eyebrow. "Which is it?"
"Yeah, right. You like it when we face off. There aren't enough people in your life you can debate with."
"I happen to like not getting annoyed to death," she breathed, suddenly hyperaware that John's face was only about three inches away from her own.
"You're not dead yet, are you?"
"I will be soon, the way you--" The rest of her sentence was cut off as John gently pressed his lips to hers...
"Hey, Mom wants to know what's taking so long," said a voice from across the room. It was Mrs. Brooke's six-year-old son, Jack.
As Leah stepped back from John in a daze, he answered without taking his eyes from hers, "Tell your mom it'll be five minutes, tops."
Leah averted her eyes and walked away, her thoughts in utter turmoil.
"When deep down in the core of your being you believe that your soul mate exists, there is no limit to the ways he or she can enter your life." Arielle Ford.