A First Kiss: At The Front Door

“Oh god.” Will hasn’t budged from the door where he’s been standing for a good thirty seconds, completely ignoring Chris’ flustered invitation in. “I’m…you’re not ready. I’m early.” He checks his watch, “Really early. I’m sorry, I was just-”

“It’s okay.”  Having Will show up when he’s in his ratty jeans and a white undershirt when he’s spent the better part of an hour harassing Ashley over the phone about his wardrobe…well, it’s less than ideal.. Especially because Will’s wearing that shirt, the shirt he’d worn at Ashley’s summer party, the one that grips his biceps delicious-tight. It’s the palest green; Chris remembers him in it, flush skinned and so handsome. What Chris remembers most, though, is way Will had looked at him, bright and smiling at over Ashley’s head to a joke only they got.  

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