If there was one word you could use to describe Keegan, it was clingy -- at least to you, that is.

You groaned as he latched himself onto your sitting form, arms draped around your waist, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. His soft breath tickled your skin, the smell of alcohol radiating off of him. Your nose turned from the unwanted scent. You wanted to question him, ask why he had overdrank for the second night in a row, but you decided to leave him be, wanting him to confront you on his own terms. Besides, if he refused to tell you the issue the first time around, what luck did you have the second time?

He pulled away, half-lidded eyes staring into yours. He scans you for a moment, eerily silent for a moment before speaking, "You're so breathtaking."

Your eyes widen; you should be used to his flirty behavior by now after years of endless teasing, but your cheeks still flush every single time. You scoff, lightly swatting his arm, "Don't say that."

"Why not?" his speech is slurred, but you don't miss the usual playfulness in his voice, "Isn't it common to compliment someone you like?"

Like?, you think. That was new. You raise a brow, your cheeks reddening at the confession, "You like me?"

Your heart is beating and you feel your palms grow clammy as he draws closer, his voice dropping as if trying to tell you a secret, "I love you."

Your throat feels dry at how close he gets, breath hitching at the way he looks at you. Yes, he was usually affectionate and doting, but this was different.

"I've always been in love with you," his eyes were now locked with yours, thumb brushing against your flushed cheeks in a way that makes you feel dizzy, “I fell in love with teasing you in the second grade, when I first discovered that I could turn you cheeks pink with just a word. Then I fell in love with you.”