RED NOTES AND KISSES-Chapter 60: FRIDA -

The morning was crisp, the chill biting gently at the air like an early whisper of winter’s coming breath.

A thin fog clung to the windows, blurring the view outside with ghostly wisps.

Frida stood in her dorm room, the warmth of her comforter still lingering on her skin as her bare feet touched the cold floor.

She wrapped her arms around herself for a moment, gazing at the line of sweaters in her wardrobe.

She ran her fingers slowly along the sleeves, the soft textures brushing her skin.

Navy blue, pale beige, warm mustard, stormy grey. Her fingertips hovered thoughtfully.

Today... blue. Blue felt right.

Her phone buzzed suddenly on the drawer. A text lit up the screen and, instinctively, her heart did a full somersault in her chest.

She snapped it up, practically snatching it with trembling fingers.

Laz.

Her breath hitched.

She shouldn’t be this excited. Not just because he said he was jealous. That’s the bare minimum, right?

The thought tried to settle like logic in her mind, but it was swept away the moment her eyes landed on his message.

A photo.

Of his biceps.

"Good morning my sunrise, just wanted to show you how lonely my arms are without you."

Frida blinked, then let out a choked laugh, covering her mouth with her hand.

No, she scolded herself, your friend should not send you something this hot. Especially not in the goddamn morning.

Especially not when she was still trying to pull herself together for another mundane lecture day. Still dazed, she texted back quickly:

"This is inappropriate."

But her thumbs trembled.

Because, truthfully, her mind was painting a dangerous image, those strong arms wrapped tight around her waist, tugging her into the warmth of his body, into something messy and delicious and forbidden.

Just like those Pinterest couples she obsessed over late at night.

Then came another buzz.

She wasn’t prepared.

She dropped her phone this time.

It hit the floor with a light thud, flashing another picture that stole her breath: His abs.

Sculpted like a Roman statue, smooth skin trailing down into a sinful V, and just at the edge, the waistband of grey sweatpants peeking into view like the promise of sin.

She was panting.

"No, this is inappropriately yours."

She nearly moaned at the screen.She literally had pharmacology and a clinical practical assessment this morning.

Just the thought of it made her stomach coil with anxiety.

Her notes felt heavier than her backpack, and her nerves danced like caffeine in her veins.

The sky was brooding above, thick clouds rolling like a storm of expectations ready to burst.

Not a single ray of sunlight dared to break through.

It was not a great day.

But seeing him like this, untamed, smug, and devastatingly gorgeous...was the only thing soothing her nerves.

He was a balm to every ache in her bones and the thunder in her chest.

How was she supposed to concentrate with that image branded into her mind...his V-cut pointing downward like a trail she was dying to trace with her tongue, his voice laced in midnight heat whispering sweet destruction into her ears?

She was drowning in him and he wasn’t even in the same room.

How do you convince yourself not to want that?

Not to crave the way his sweatpants sat just low enough to suggest everything and show nothing?

When every instinct inside her begged for her hand to wander, down that sculpted terrain, past the divine dip of his abs, into the promised land of those grey sweatpants.

Her fingers twitched with the hunger to explore, to take all the sinful pleasure he had to offer.

To feel his muscles twitch under her touch, his breath catch, his voice deepen into that growl she was already addicted to.

Her thighs pressed tighter. Her breath hitched.

How could she focus on sterile textbooks and white lab coats when he was offering her a fantasy laced in heat and drenched in temptation?

Her eyes fluttered shut for one indulgent moment. God, her thighs clenched instinctively.

Why did he know exactly how to get under her skin like this?

Another message buzzed:

"What? Don’t I look good for breakfast?"

She forced herself to type with as much sass as she could manage, even though her knees felt weak:

"You’ll try harder."

And then her phone rang.

His voice...deep, smooth, like liquid heat, poured into her ear.

"That’s what makes it worth it."

A small gasp escaped her lips. His chuckle, that lazy, wicked chuckle, sent a shiver down her spine that curled in her stomach and pulsed between her thighs.

Her legs instinctively squeezed tighter, seeking a release she would never admit out loud.

"Have a great day in school, my sunrise."

My sunrise.

She smiled, heat crawling up her cheeks. Her voice came out hushed and soft like velvet.

"You too, my sunset."

They shared a laugh, intimate and sweet, and she ended the call with a hand to her chest, trying to slow her heart. The silence after his voice felt deafening.

Still dreamily flushed, she peeled off her pajamas and let the shower water kiss her skin.

The droplets were hot and soothing, tracing paths down her body like the touch she suddenly craved.

She let herself imagine his hands there, his mouth, then shook her head sharply.

No. Snap out of it.

She chose the navy blue sweater in the end, the one that brought out the soft glow in her skin and matched it with high-waisted grey jeans that hugged her curves perfectly.

Blue because it was his favorite color. Grey because it matched his eyes.

She sat at the edge of her bed, palms to her cheeks, cheeks still burning. "Snap out of it," she mumbled again.

But he lingered.

She zipped up her backpack, only to realize, damn it! she’d run out of stationary.

She sighed and made a mental note to stop by the campus store after class.

She opened her door and gasped.

Alex.

The rain-heavy clouds above cast the morning in a dim grey light, the wind brushing her cheeks with a tender cold. The sky looked like it might cry soon.

"Hey," he greeted brightly, a friendly smile on his lips. "Wanna walk to school?"

She smiled back, polite. But her heart didn’t flutter. It didn’t race. In fact, it sank just a little. Disappointment bloomed quietly in her chest.

Still, she nodded. "Yeah, sure."

Just as she turned to shut the door behind her, something caught her eye.

A single dandelion lay delicately on the floor, it’s stem wrapped in a red tape. Her heart twisted sweetly.

A note written in scribbled but familiar handwriting:

"As pretty as a dandelion, my perfect sunrise."