R E Y A N S H

The moment she’d lifted her head from my lap, I’d been awake. I was about to ask if her stomach still hurt, but then she’d started her delicate, secret mission with the pillow. And then… oh, and then came the touch. Her fingers, a ghost of a caress, mapping my face as if I were a precious relic. I’d played my part, feigning sleep, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. When her lips had pressed against my forehead, then my cheeks, and she’d whispered those some  earth-shattering words "I might already like you" I’d felt like the king of the world. This was, without a doubt, the best morning of my life.