meeting a sidelong glance. "It feels really nice."

  Zell's responding smile was nice, too. "Sure." His eyes twinkled with that bit of mischievous spirit I'd seen so many times before. "Now I know why you asked me to do the ‘Booya' on you yesterday. You were gonna tell me then, huh?"

  I lowered my gaze to the ground and giggled. "Yes, only I used up all my courage."

  Zell laughed and gave me another squeeze. "I thought I was gonna get flipped or something."

  "And you got kissed," I whispered.

  He laughed again before grunting "Booya!"

  I giggled and gave him a slight push. "Stop."

  Zell did. So did I. "You want me to do the ‘Booya' on ya now?" he asked, facing me.

  I lowered my eyes and gave a slight shake of my head. I hadn't thought my face could get that red or that hot.

  "Damn. I've been trying to get you to kiss me again. Remember the whole thing with that knuckle-noogie in Timber?" He chuckled. "Instead, I got punched."

  I reluctantly met his gaze. "If I were more like you," and I could feel the red reach my hairline, "I would've kissed you a long time ago." I think I'm going to melt.

  "Yeah?" Zell crossed his arms. "Why don't you?"

  I gazed up at him, hoping against hope that I wasn't really still sleeping. That my alarm wasn't going to go off. There's one way to find out. I grabbed my courage, shushed the Thrusteavis that fluttered and crashed against my insides, and stood on tiptoes to place a kiss on those warm, smiling lips. Wow. Then I looked up at him. He still smiled.

  Then Zell leaned toward me, wiggling his eyebrows with a whispered "Booya."

  The End

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  Other Bookworms & Booya Books:

  Few Words--the story of Fujin & Marshal’s mission to Winhill

  The Reluctant Knight--the story of Seifer and Janine’s unique relationship

  In Theory, by Nona King & J. Seay--the story of Quistis’s mission to Deling Garden

  About the Author | Nona King

  Writing has been my passion since I was a child when I began creating skits and songs. My life would be empty without this call. There would be no purpose. No ending to guide my daily struggle. No story toward which to strive. Each day something beckons, and that--I know--is the waiting tale. One last happy ending.

  Connect with Me Online:

  Twitter: https://twitter.com/writersprite

  Facebook: https://facebook.com/NonaKing

  My site: https://nonaking.com

  My blog: https://wordobsession.net

 
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