The Boiling Point | ✔️

42 | pillow talk

SUMMER

"What's the time?"

"Am I boring you, Cupcake?"

"Not a chance," I say without a second thought. "Just wondering. I mean, do you want to go out or anything?"

A lazy sigh rolls in Ashton's throat, his fingers tracing up and down my spine. "Now why would I wanna waste the limited time we have by not being in bed with you?"

I smile to myself, savoring his continuous soft touch on my back. I was boiling after our shower, and positively boiling over when he spent a good twenty minutes with his head between my legs, but it's all balanced out now. Judging by the sliver of gray light coming from between the curtains, it's cloudy and probably almost noon. And squished in his twin bed, the combination of his warmth and the cool air has me feeling cozier than ever. But staying like this, I know it's going to go too fast. I'll blink and tomorrow will be here.

I lift my head off his chest and look up at him. His closed eyes accentuate just how dark his lashes really are. "Well, we can't spend all day in bed."

"Sure we can." He slowly lifts his eyelids, his fingers moving behind my neck, sinking into my hair. "I'll show you how easy it is."

Tingles flow over my scalp, cascading through my body. "It's not going to be so easy when I have to leave. When the weekend's over... when this is over."

"We don't have to talk about that."

"But I—"

"Let's talk about firsts."

"Firsts? What firsts?"

"Anything," he says with a shrug. "Firsts are like the roots of someone, you know? The foundation."

I sit up higher, resting on his chest. "And you'll tell me yours?"

"I'll do you one better. You can kick things off, and I'll answer. Guaranteed."

My lips pull with a smile I'm struggling to suppress. His willingness to open up is taking my mind for a run. "I know you're just distracting me to keep me in bed, so as soon as you don't answer, I'm out."

A slight glimmer of hesitance brushes his face, but he nods, waiting.

"First kiss."

"Ana Palmer, fifth grade. In a museum bathroom on a fieldtrip. Yours?"

"Bradley Sellers, seventh grade. In a movie theater. My first ever date, too."

"Oh yeah? So extra memorable?"

"Extra slobbery."

He laughs quietly. "First memory."

I have to rack my brain for that one. "I think it was a Christmas. Sitting under the tree and getting really excited about a coloring book. It had little farm animals on it. And yours?"

"Hmm, gotta be my uncle's atlas globe. I wanted to use it as a ball before I realized it was actually interesting to look at the world."

I laugh now. "So you want to travel?"

"Since that first memory."

"Where would you go?"

"Where wouldn't I go?" He takes my hand that's been sitting on his chest, absently playing with it. "Man, if I had the money; Greece, France, Spain, Thailand... anywhere with good food, really."

"Same. Traveling has been on my bucket list forever."

My mind can't help painting a picture of myself flitting off with him to new exotic places, surrounded with food and culture and romance. It's a farfetched fantasy, but one I won't throw away.