The Kissing Booth
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Because how do I explain something I don’t even understand?
His hand shifts, slides slightly higher, unroll it, resting just above my knees. My breath stutters. No one. notices, but I do.
Oh, I do.
“Spontaneity.” He says before I can speak. The word is calm, controlled, like that moment wants anything more than a witch encounter.
I swear I was spelled. Someone hexed me in some third-dimensional realm, forcing me to slam my lips against his clam-like ones.
‘If clams could kiss like him….’ No….no, Charlotte.
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