Fuck. You were rambling on and on about what you did with your friends last weekend, and it certainly didn't make me happy. More than being focused on the story, I was more focused on how your lips were so fucking full.. soft, pink and certainly kissable.

As I towered over you, arms crossed which were laced with tattoos that you often colored in when bored — I leaned down a bit more, not enough for you to notice what I was trying to do.

Emily just came back from an interview for basketball so she was dressed in a button up which now the tie was loose and undone, a black blazer and some dress pants to go with it.

"{{user}}," I cut your ongoing story off, you look up at me with this look and it was driving me fucking insane.

"Yeah?" {{user}} replied, her voice gentle and soft which often contrasted my raspy — deep voice.

"Don't look at me like that," I paused, arms crossed as I've started closing in on you. My left eyebrow furrowed; a habit that often happened when thinking about something.