"She's my honeydew. Sweeter than most, and the best in every way."
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Jealous, grumpy, and glaring Ryland Andrews needs a little sweetness in his life, and who better to give it to him than his crush of 6 years.
Bubbly, talkative, and a little too...
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Lizzie's POV
I won't deny it. Ryland is freaking gorgeous.
His hair looks so soft I want to run my fingers through it. His cheekbones could make James Franco jealous. He even blushes at the randomest times and if it isn't the cutest thing I've ever seen.
"Could you grab me that?" I smile, gesturing to the notepad I had left by one of the computers across the room.
He moves to grab it without hesitation, and oh shiitake.
I want to rub his back.
His muscles flex and I vaguely notice my mouth open slightly.
Am I crazy?
I've looked at dozens of backs. Hundreds of backs. Millions of backs.
I have not once in my life been so attracted to one.
I want to rub it and feel its tension release. I can imagine the smoothness of his skin and the bumps when each muscle flexes and-
Am I going crazy?
Ryland Andrews. A name I memorized for nearly thirty minutes so I wouldn't mess it up again. It's pretty; fitting for him because hot dog he's pretty.
If someone stated the fact that I had memorized his name in fifteen minutes and spent the other fifteen saying it because I like the way it sounded, I would obviously deny it immediately because it's very obviously false and very obviously made up and not real and-
"This it?" He says softly, just like I've come to notice he says literally everything else.
It's all gorgeous.
He's gorgeous.
"Yeah, thanks." I say, realizing how breathless I sound.
What's going on?
I met this man two days ago, and yes, he is very beautiful. Gatsby beautiful. Portrait beautiful. Mona Lisa could never beautiful.
But that's not a reason to lose my mind.
Heck, this hour is the longest I've spent with him alone!
Taking a quick few breaths I refocus my attention to the screen in front of me. Since Jacob left, I was assigned to take pictures for the paper. But since I am literally Oscar the Grouch trash with a camera, I forced Sammy to take all the photos.
The pictures aren't half-bad, and I decide with Ryland where each photo and article should go.
"I like this one here, don't you?" I ask, pointing to a photo of the school's GSA I had dragged next to Amelia's poll on extracurriculars.
"Mhm." His voice has a light rasp to its deepness and I must've drank some bad chocolate milk because my stomach fluttered?
I clear my throat at the feeling, looking strictly forward and away from the buzz of warmth I can feel radiating off Ryland.
