Page 8 of Come to Me

"Three days in San Diego. I'll take Monday off."

I've been thinking about what to do that's low key enough to still feel relaxing.

"What's in San Diego--besides the drug store where you used to buy eyeliner?"

"You won't let go of that, will you?" I laugh.

She leans in closer.

"At least tell me--did you wear black, brown, charcoal? I could see you in an electric blue or a shocking pink. Something from Urban Decay."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhmm. You could pull off a lot of color. Or a black. Some nice, dark lines to draw even more attention to those gorgeous eyes."

We stop at a light, and she presses her hands against my cheek. I feel a rush of warmth.

It's so good to be next to her. I never get sick of the feeling in my body, that sense that I'm home.

The sex is fucking amazing too.

"You're obsessed." I smirk, turning towards her.

"It's true." She smiles, looking into said eyes. "I wonder what would have happened if we met as teenagers."

"I already know. You would have thought I was a rich snob."

She tilts her head to the side, considering.

"You would have thought I was a burned-out loser."

"No way in hell," I scoff. "I would have seen you in the school play and been transfixed. And, after, when I went to tell you how great you were, you would ask me what brand of eyeliner I use. Boom—we'd be best friends."

She laughs. "Definitely."

"But when you found out the eyeliner was only a three-week phase, you'd get bored of me."

"Was it really?"

I shrug.

"Maybe a month or two. But no more."

"You're destroying my fantasies here," she groans.

"Miss Summers! I was underage."

"And a virgin too, I bet," she says with more than a touch of sarcasm, rolling her eyes.

I grin.

She's not wrong. I wasn't a late bloomer.

"And I'm the pervert?"

She nods. "We're both perverts. That's why we're so perfect for each other."

Absolutely perfect. I squeeze her hand. "So, what do you think about San Diego?"