Abigail Glenn

“Your hair’s a mess,” I mutter, striding for the door. “Hurry up. I don’t have all day.”
But for him, I think I fucking do.

He’s beautiful all the time, but when he’s not trying to hide his warmth under scowls and shadows, he’s stunning. More brilliant than the sun.
I ache to have that smile directed at me.

“Why aren’t you wearing any pants?”
“Forgot,” I murmur.
“You… forgot pants.”
I don’t shy away from his glare, though my heart is beating too fast. “Happens to the best of us.”