Transmuted : Love Of An Evening
He doesn't bother to comb his long hair, always messy, falling at his forehead, which makes his face so cute.
"You're staring at me," he smiles teasingly.
"I'm not!" I quickly look away, feeling a bit shy.
"Since when you're shy, Samlin Greenham?" he lifts himself up by pressuring on his elbow, gazing down at me. "You're literary blushing. You know what happens when you blush? Your cheeks turn red, like spilling color. Just like this," he puts a finger on my left cheek.
"I know, shut up!" I giggle, swating his arm.
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