CHAPTER 138: LOVE LANGUAGE

We do, and I sit across from him, presents and candles between us on the table. Before I can take a bite, Kent speaks his mind. "You're too far, come around to this side," he whispers, touching the chair on the perpendicular edge of the table.

I smirk, getting up and moving. I guess that stuff was in the middle of the table, too hard to hold hands and all.

I've come to understand that Kent's love language was physical touch. It didn't matter where we were, and I noticed it before we even started dating. He wanted to sit next to me, hold my hand, or hug me. Sex was so huge for him because it was so physical.

Mine was probably acts of service or possibly quality time. There was nothing quite like when Kent wanted to spend time with me and only me.

"What are you thinking about over there?" He teases, and I shrug.

"What my love language is," I shrug, and he laughs, poking his fork into two noodles and eating them a second later.

"Oh shit, that's delicious," he mumbles, and I laugh.