He loved her lips. Truly, the credit was due to her mouth, although her lips were nothing to discount. He was fascinated by the constant motion. He would see her, sitting or standing utterly still and there it would be. A glimmer of action on her face. It made him smile just to think of it. He wondered if she knew she was doing it. No, he decided, definitely not.
He’d been so immersed in watching her mouth that he had only half-heard what she was saying. He watched as she paused and applied gloss to her lips. He laughed, poking gentle fun at her to cover his affection. “Now why would you need to make your lips stand out more?” He knew he certainly didn’t need any more excuses to look at them. She smirked, the corner of her mouth adding a curious twitch that intrigued him. “Boy, please,” she laughed, “you can look away if you have a problem with it.” It was as if she was reading his mind.
He eyed the beauty mark on her upper lip and fought the urge to run the pad of his thumb across it. Her silence marked the wait for a question he’d never heard. She shook her head, amused at his distractedness tonight. He was usually an avid listener, a pretend-reluctant participant in their roundabout conversations. He focused himself, really listened to what she was saying. He loved this game. He’d charm laughs out of her, waiting for his name, mingled with mirth roll from her tongue. Her eyes would sparkle in such a way that he had not recalled ever seeing before, piquing his curiosity to learn how deep the sparkle went.
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