This Love (Paige Bueckers)

33

narrative and insta

Paige pov

"Good morning," I whisper to Iris as she opens her eyes.

"Good morning," She smiles.

"Are you excited for Pride?" I ask her.

"very." she rubs her eyes. "you're very hot."

"oh am I?" I smirk.

"yes," she laughs. "very very, hot."

"you better be careful with what you say, ma," I warn her. "or we might not be able to go to pride."

"why?" she asks.

"because you won't be able to walk straight," I whisper in her ear.

her eyes widen. "Jokes on you, I can't do anything straight."

"oh I know, mama," I laugh.

"you really need to change your Snapchat," she tells me.

"I've tried," i sigh.

"I'm going to go take a shower," she sits up. "I need to wash my hair before pride."

"can I join?" I smirk.

"I don't know," she turns and walks backwards. "can you?"

Yes. yes I can.

I wait a few minutes until I hear the shower turn on. I walk over and open the bathroom door. I try to be as quiet as possible.

I take off all of my clothes and creep towards the shower.

I quickly open the curtain. "BOO!" I scream.

"FUCK!" she yells, turning around. she points her razor at me.

I laugh hysterically. "what would that do?"

"it was the sharpest thing in here!" she yells.

I step into the shower.

"you're fucking gorgeous," I say, putting my hands on her hips.

"what about me is gorgeous?" she asks.

I laugh.

"here," I say, tracing my finger around her face.

"and here." I run my hands down her arms.

"here as well." I trace her faint abs with my finger.

"here." I rub my hands up and down her hips.

"love this, definitely here," I say, playing with her beautiful brown hair.

"where else?" she asks.

"here." I run my hands up and down her torso until I finally stop at her breasts.

"yeah?" she asks.

"yeah," I smile.

"anywhere else?" she asks.

"everywhere," I give her a small kiss.

"be specific," she clarifies. "if you had to choose one more spot."

"hmm," I hum. "maybe somewhere, around here." I run my hands down her body until I reach her... lips.

her breath hitches.

"how gorgeous is it?" she asks. "on a scale from one to ten. one being absolute trash, ten being life altering."

"ten," I say. "definitely a ten."