Slowly, careful not to wake him, I roll over, so we’re face to face. In the semi-darkness, I can barely make out his features, but I don’t need to see them to know them. Even three years later, I could draw him from memory. When we’re old and wrinkled, I’ll still recognize him. Age doesn’t change the way a soul feels.
Flashes of memories flicker in and out of my head, pictures of scenes from hours earlier. I close my eyes and try to bring them into focus, but everything is blurred on the edges. Like I was a witness, not a participant, watching through thick, colorful smoke.
My fingers burn, and I remember running them over Levi’s lips. Remember kissing him. Citrus and whiskey. Did it really happen, or was it just another one of my intoxicated dreams? Drunk or high, every time, I’ve dreamt of him.
I snake my hand between us, raise it to his mouth, and trace his lips lightly. His brow furrows in sleep and his nose scrunches up, and I stifle a laugh. Then, I do it again, run the pads of my fingers over his lower lip.
“What are you doing?”
His gruff voice makes me jump, and I let out a startled squeak. He smirks, but he doesn’t open his eyes, and I huff, giving his chest a shove.
“You scared me, you ass.”
He tightens his arms around me and peeks one eye open.
“Why are you feeling me up like a creep?”
I wipe my face of expression, then raise a brow slowly.
“Just seein’ if you were real.”
He opens his other eye and smiles softly.
“I’m real if you’re real.”
BNAF will be here 6/23.
Cover reveal coming on the 4/28.
I’m in love with them.