Eventually she has to swallow, which she does with some difficulty (it really was a big bite, is the thing, and also the way he's looking at her, her mouth is sort of weirdly dry). "You are rude," she tells him, after a second, and she has to raise her voice because all around them people are on their feet and cheering, just the two of them down here in their seats. "That's a thing about you. It's true."
"Yeah," Sam says, still looking. His thumb is moving now, just a little bit, stroking along the curve of her hairline, and it, um. It feels--crap.
(It doesn't feel like crap, though.)
(It feels like, pretty much, the opposite of crap.)
"McNally," he says slowly, and that is when Andy makes the huge, colossal, fatal mistake of looking down at his mouth (it's just that he's got that cleft in his bottom lip, it's not her fault--it's very attention-getting, that cleft, like a person could sleep there or something) and then not only are they somehow kissing again but Andy's pretty sure, even as his grip tightens gently around the base of her skull, that this time she's the one who started it. Sam's a good kisser. Andy tastes mustard and beer.
(Jesus Christ, she's still holding half a hot dog.)
"You're right," he says seriously, when it's over--and he's grinning, he is, almost wolfish. "That's really rude."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-08-25 07:30 pm (UTC)"Yeah," Sam says, still looking. His thumb is moving now, just a little bit, stroking along the curve of her hairline, and it, um. It feels--crap.
(It doesn't feel like crap, though.)
(It feels like, pretty much, the opposite of crap.)
"McNally," he says slowly, and that is when Andy makes the huge, colossal, fatal mistake of looking down at his mouth (it's just that he's got that cleft in his bottom lip, it's not her fault--it's very attention-getting, that cleft, like a person could sleep there or something) and then not only are they somehow kissing again but Andy's pretty sure, even as his grip tightens gently around the base of her skull, that this time she's the one who started it. Sam's a good kisser. Andy tastes mustard and beer.
(Jesus Christ, she's still holding half a hot dog.)
"You're right," he says seriously, when it's over--and he's grinning, he is, almost wolfish. "That's really rude."