The Forty-First Letter

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Dear Jake,

"How are you doing?" You asked, your voice soft and quiet. "My stomach hurts a little. Do you think you can pass me the heating pad?" I mumbled. You were with me in my room, on the bed, and my stomach was hurting like hell. "Oh, here." And you pressed it lightly on my lower stomach. Your blue eyes stared into mine, and all of a sudden you leaned forward. So did I. And then your hand was behind my head, holding me up. We stopped, our noses touching. "Are you sure?" You whispered. I let out a small, quiet laugh. "I've wanted to do this for a while now," and then my lips met yours, and Jake, I swear to god I almost fainted. It's a good thing your other hand was behind my back, holding me up. Our lips moved together, and soon your tongue slid into my mouth. I was right. You sure are a kissing expert. Then you moved to the nape of my neck, planting a long kiss that will for sure leave a mark. Then I held your face in my hand, and our lips met again. And, well, you were there. You know what else happened. We didn't go too far. Maybe just making out minus your shirt? Yup. That's about it. And I think I love you more than I did before, which is impossible.

Love Forever and Ever,

Kennedy

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