Just some spontaneous writing, for the prompt site, OneWord.
They sat on the roof, an old quilt spread across asphalt shingles, and he had hauled up a backpack filled with a liter of Kool-Aid in a hard plastic bottle and some cheeses and crackers. Despite his care in packing, the crackers were damaged, but she smiled and said the thought was what counted and they still tasted good, even without the brie that was fairly runny in the humid heat of July. As dusk fell, she spread her long, tanned legs and waited patiently. He had promised her fireworks, and from the vantage of this roof, the rocket bursts filled him with anticipation – and lust for her warm olive skin.