Pages

Saturday, August 2, 2008

You're my sweetheart.

It's two ay-em, and I'm the designated driver. Rich has just finished yelling the directions home at me, and I'm not pleased. His music is blaring, but suddenly he turns it down for a moment.

"I love you. You know that, right??"

Half-hearted grin. I'm supposed to be irritated.

"Seriously, I'm not just saying that 'cause I'm drunk. I really love you. You're my sweetheart."

Full-blown genuine grin as my heart melts. You're my sweetheart, too.

No comments: