the thing about kissing louise belcher is that you never know when it's over. she will grab the hem of your shirt, run her fingers up your chest to the back of your neck. one hand will find its way to your cheekbone, the other will become lost in your hair.
her lips taste like bitter coffee with a hint of cherry chapstick. sometimes her short hair will brush against your skin as you hold her round face between your hands.
if you're lucky she'll bite your neck.