Ari

“I never got over that," he murmured, breaking away just long enough for a breath.
I slid my hands up his chest. "What?"
"How well you kiss. Over the last seven years," he went on, resting his forehead against mine, "I went on so many dates, I kissed so many people, I tried to fall in love again and again, and all I could think about was you."
I wasn't sure what to say. "All seven years?"
"Two thousand five hundred and fifty-five days. Not that I was counting," he added, because clearly he had been, and that made the butterflies in my stomach awfully happy. Seven years—seven whole years.”
― Ashley Poston, The Seven Year Slip