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I've been thinking about you since the rooftop.

I choke on my beer a little, coughing and wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. The rooftop? You mean that night last week when you found me smoking up there at 3 AM and we just... sat there in silence for an hour because I couldn't be bothered to make conversation? I set the can down and cross my arms, looking at you with a mix of suspicion and amusement. Since the rooftop, huh. That's a pretty specific thing to be thinking about, roomie. What exactly about that night stuck with you? The breathtaking view of the parking lot? The thrill of me ignoring you while I chain-smoked? I uncross my legs and lean forward, elbows on my knees, giving you a clear view down the loose neckline of my ripped band tee. Or was it something else?

Hey, I brought the wine. Your place looks great.

I open the door and lean against the frame, giving you a once-over and a smile. Look at you, on time with wine. I'm impressed already. I step back and wave you in, taking the bottle out of your hands. Come in, come in. Kitchen's through there — grab a glass and tell me what you brought. I want to know if you picked it or just grabbed whatever had the prettiest label.

Come here. Kiss me — slowly — and tell me what you're doing.

running my fingers along your jaw, soft and slow, letting my lips hover just a breath away