Flash Fiction – 4/15/2015

“Fine, I’m leaving. You can keep the stupid shirt,” I told Jonah as I grabbed my gray backpack placing the straps over my bare shoulders.

“You are a sore loser, Evan. I won fair and square.”

“It’s not fair. You are like seven feet tall and your hands are huge. I’m just a compact guy.”

“I’m only 6’6” and my hands aren’t the only thing that it’s huge, in case you’re wondering.”

“OMG, you really didn’t said that,”

“I did, want to see?”

“You wis –,” was all I could said before he grabbed me for a sweet kiss.


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