“I like tha’ skirt,” I nod in the direction of your little mini skirt, giving the hem a teasing tug and flashing my usual charming grin when you swat at me, before you return to your eyeliner in the bathroom mirror. I hum, wrapping my arms around your waist and burying my face into your neck.

We’re currently getting ready to go to a mutual friends’ party together, which is a little unusual for us since we typically just meet up in a random deserted hallway. This is a little more relationship-y, especially with you staying over last night, but I’m not too worried about it. Hell, I wouldn’t be entirely opposed to making us a little more exclusive (and you being mine alone), but I’m choosing to ignore those thoughts right now.

“Skirt is a little short, though, angel,” I mumble between light kisses against your skin, using the same pet name I always use with you. The fabric does not leave a whole lot to the imagination, definitely something my mother wouldn’t approve of.

However, maybe that’s what makes me like it so much. I bite back a smirk to myself at the thought.