6.

I hate writing in clichés. I hate girls writing about boys. I hate soapy operas.
The funny thing is I found something was itching to get out. This made its way onto the page. It is a bundle of clichés. I am writing about a boy. It is soapy. In fact it is a terrible little piece of prose. But sometimes you just want to try to do exactly what everyone else is doing. So here goes:

I make him smile. I try scowling. It makes him laugh at the way my frown twitches playing with my eyebrows trying to turn them upside down.
His hands slide down my back finding where to settle; content and warm.
His hands are always warm.
I want to melt into him so he can never escape because I can never get enough.
I try to tell him this through our clothes sending silent messages with my tongue. So used to talking it has found something else it quite likes to do.