"S-Sam, I don't think this is such a good idea," Michael floundered.
"Oh, shush, you," the girl clinging onto his arm, a beautiful Southerner with an olive complexion and cute freckles dotted over her nose, pulled at him playfully. She was a second-year we'd bumped into by the bar outside, and currently her chestnut eyes were busy drinking in my friend's nervous, flustered expression like he was the most adorable thing on campus. "You needn't fear, darling. I won't bite… too hard."
Michael practically squirmed when she breathed those words against the shell of his ear, his gaze finding mine, pleading for me to help.
I took out my phone and started clicking a few photos, adding to his panic.
"Why are you taking photos?!" Michael hissed. If he was trying to sound threatening, then the way his face burned a spectacular shade of crimson did not help the case.
"Uh, memories?" I offered.
He gave me a sharp disapproving look.
