Millie
Jameson’s watching me with a look I can only describe as ravenous. It sends my blood boiling. He places his untouched plate of pizza on the coffee table in front of him and then leans forward to take mine from me. I really want more of that, but if this is heading where I think it is, pizza can wait. It can wait all night.
He places his hand at the nape of my neck and leans his forehead against mine. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. I can’t do anything but think about Jameson getting his lips on me.
He leans down and gently presses his lips to mine. It’s slow, teasing, testing. I’ve spent months fighting my attraction for this man, and right here and now, let it be known that I, Millie Parker, repent. I’m positively going to combust if this man doesn’t kiss me like he means it.
He loops his free hand around to my back and pulls my hair tie from the end of my loose braid. He runs his hands through my long, wild hair and then digs his fingers into my hair as he cradles my head in his hands. He deepens the kiss, and my soul is screaming finally!
This is no longer a sweet, innocent kiss. It’s an explosion of emotions that have been held back and reeled in for months. It’s teeth and tongues clashing. I’ve never been kissed like this before.
Jameson pulls away, and my mouth tries to go with him, but he holds me firmly in place. I open my eyes and see him grinning ear to ear.
“Why no more kisses?” I ask.
“I think it’s best if we stop,” he says in a gravelly voice I’ve never heard from him before. He doesn’t want to stop. It’s written all over his face, and his body is coiled as tightly as a viper ready to snap. Well, good. That makes two of us.
I lean forward and say, “I don’t want to stop,” but he leans back against the arm of the couch to put more space between us. Ouch.
He grabs a throw pillow from the floor and places it between us as some kind of barrier. I take it and throw it back on the floor. He places his hands on my shoulders and looks me squarely in the eye.
“Millie, just a few days ago, you told me you don’t believe in love. That you have no plans to ever be in another relationship. I have very real feelings where you’re concerned, and I can’t be a fling for you. I need you to think about what you want, and if that’s me, then we can continue this,” he says, gesturing between the two of us.
I nod my head and allow him to place a barricade of pillows between us. It feels very juvenile, but whatever helps him feel better, I guess. He hands my plate of pizza back to me and turns the movie back on. I don’t see any of it. My taste buds are no longer partying. All I can think about is Jameson and his pillowy lips.
Two weeks go by, and I see Jameson every single day. If he doesn’t invent some reason to come over to my house, then I think of something that I need to borrow from him. I see him more than I see Lo now, and she lives in the same house as me.
I can’t get enough of him, and it would seem the feeling is mutual. Today is Halloween, and he just texted me to ask if I wanted to come over to his place to hand out candy. He was supposed to go to some party with his friends, Seth and Colby, but the person throwing the party came down with a violent stomach bug.
Millie: Sure! I have a bag of Laffy Taffys I was going to hand out.
Jameson: Ew. You have to get the good stuff. Full-size Snickers, or it’s a waste of time.
Millie: Excuse you. I love Laffy Taffy. You get candy and comedy.
Jameson: Laffy Taffy jokes are the worst. I’ve never laughed at a single one.
Millie: Liar.
Jameson: I’ll bet you that you can’t get me to laugh at any of their jokes tonight.
Millie: You’re on!
I arrive at Jameson’s house at 6:00. A lot of the little trick-or-treaters are already out and about with their parents. I love handing out candy on Halloween and seeing all the cute costumes. The toddlers dressed up as animals are my favorite.
I knock on the door, and when Jameson answers, I say, “Hey, Jameson, how do you get an alien baby to sleep?”
He groans and says, “I don’t know. How, Millie?” He acts annoyed, but I see the smile he’s holding back.
“You rocket!” I burst out laughing because that’s a great joke. Someone working for Laffy Taffy needs a raise.
“Oh my gosh, come inside. I don’t think anyone heard that truly terrible joke,” he says as he pushes me inside and looks around to make sure there are no neighbors within earshot of us. Fun sucker. In a totally mature move, I stick my tongue out at him and drop my bag of Laffy Taffys on his entry table.
I sniff the air, and I’m greeted with the beautiful smell of bacon. That’s it. Jameson’s perfect. I walk over to his kitchen and see a plate of bacon, so I do what anyone would do and swipe a piece.
“Hey, that’s for the grilled cheese!” he says. He runs into the kitchen, wraps his arms around my waist, and carries me to a barstool on the opposite side of the counter.
“Bacon in a grilled cheese?” I ask, highly intrigued.