Rules and Regulations

25. Jeremiah

Jeremiah

“Friends,” he said.

Friends don’t kiss like that.

I stare down at my plate, but I can still feel the phantom pressure of his mouth, the weight of his words.

Daring to sneak another look, I glance at him. He’s sitting beside me on the couch, chewing on a slightly-burnt slice of pepperoni pizza like nothing just happened.

Like his lips weren’t on mine and his hands weren’t all over my body.

Like I didn’t just throw every rule I’ve ever followed out the goddamn window.

What the hell am I doing?