I was expecting a text from my best friend when I heard my notification tone.
But it was him.
Risen from the graveyard of people who don't text back to give a girl a minor heart attack on a busy Friday afternoon.
I looked at the text for nearly fifteen minutes, shock and surprise eliminating any ability to construct complete sentences. But eventually I managed a few words and he volleyed back.
A plan was made. A time arranged.
I walked up the frosty front steps in my dainty heels, my legs shivering slightly in my dress. I pressed his doorbell and waited. How awkward was this going to be after nearly four months of radio silence?
Was I going to have to make small talk?
His Adonis face appeared in the shadowy hall and I knew I did not want to make small talk. AT ALL. I had way better things to do with him after all this time.
"How was the show?" He asked as soon as the door was closed behind us.
Fucking small talk. I shrugged out of my coat and tried not to sigh out loud.
"What show was it?" He took a step toward me and the look in his eye sent a whole new type of shiver through me.
"Does it matter?"
He laughed. "You are so good at small talk, has anyone ever told you that?"
I smiled but as a witty answer formed on my tongue, I shivered.
"Are you cold?" He dropped a hand onto my shoulder. "I could get you a blanket."
I spun into his embrace. "No, you'll do just fine yourself."
A broad smile spread across his face. "Damn, I missed you."
"Well, that answers that question," I murmured against his shoulder. Our bodies were still tangled together. the sheets knotted ...
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