feelers-for-jeans-and-atshirt:
“Oh, that /is/ a cheat! Using my own name against my heart. Cruel, cruel, Tom. I’m sorry I asked, now.” Her laughter gave the lie to her words, and she tugged on the leg of his jeans. “Sit down, my neck hurts looking up at you.”
Tom smiled, glancing back down as he tugged at the hem of his jeans. “Oh! Sorry about that!” He replied, moving off to sit down where he was previously, beside her. And with that, his speech turned back to more modern of English.
Summer shrugged. “‘m used to it. But what will you now, Tom? You’ve broken my poor heart with your sonnets.”