“You won’t pull away if I kiss you?”

Austin wants to die right now. His palms are sweating, and you probably feel it ‘cause he’s holding your face, and his leg is doing that nervous bounce again—

“Swear?” Austin laughs when you do, trying to hide the way his voice rises anxiously. He feels like a little girl picking away at daisy petals, wondering if you really love him or not.

He can only pray you do.

Slowly, he unclasps his helmet, puffing out a soft gust of air, and leans close, dusty blonde eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as his eyes flicker shut.