“No harm done,” she grinned, sliding across the seat next to him. Donning her mortarboard in a goofy, crooked fashion, she pulled his arm around her shoulders and grabbed the camera. She was close enough now for him to see the light sheen of sweat on her neck, and to smell the soft scent of her skin…and in the space of that brief moment Brig’s heart became a living definition of ‘internal combustion’.
“Smile,” she commanded, holding the camera out from them, snapping a picture. After taking a moment to approve the image, she returned it to him. “There. Moment captured.” She slid away a bit, but his heartbeat refused to return to its normal rhythm. He drew in a deep breath, silently counting to five as he willed his pulse to slow down.
••••• ••••• •••••
If you’ve already read SHRILUGH and enjoyed it, I wouldn’t hate it (okay, I would frigging love it) if you would leave a review. Doesn’t have to be wordy. It can even be a half-grunted Me read book. Book good kind of review. Anything that tells readers who are new to my work, Hey you. This book doesn’t suck. You won’t regret parting with a few bucks for it. Sincerely yours, Coolest Kid at the Lunch Table
Also, feel free to share/pin/tweet this image willy-nilly. You have my permission to go wild and annoy everybody you know with it.