Fingers tap-tap on the table, edge closer, then intertwine, two into one, as his
hazel eyes scan her; a twirl of hair, a bitten lip, a nervous smile, then she
softly says “Come on then, I think I’d like to”, and it echoes in his ear, so he scrapes
the chair and leans in, inhales her vanilla scent mixing with cheap wine, and their
searching lips seek out each other, her cherry lip gloss now partly his.
About the Creator
Joe O’Connor
New Zealander
English teacher
Short stories and poems📚
Please be honest- I would love your constructive feedback, as it's the only way I'll get better. Would rather it was pointed out so I can improve!
Currently writing James The Wonderer
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