Made-up words and a meaningful hug

My guy has a habit of making up words. Whenever he does add a new word to what I call my guy's dictionary of wacky words, I give him a you-are-crazy-but-you're-cute stare.

My guy tends to say thingy often. I am a writer by trade and fend off the temptation to not use it.

Last Friday, at the end of the day, I cracked. During our entire conversation, I said thingy three times.

"I can't believe that I used thingy three times today," I said, almost shocked.
"I guess that I am rubbing off on you," my guy stated.
"Rubbing in more ways than one," I said in a cheeky tone, which made him smirk.

My guy reminded me of my usage of his fine word on Monday. I have a feeling that it will be used as a reason for spanking me soon.

On Monday afternoon, my guy came over to my desk. He ended up sitting on my desk. I was wearing my double v-neck navy blue sweater. My guy was wearing his new wool sweater. It was also blue, which is a colour that looks great on him.

We talked about how sweaters tend to fuzz. My sweater was a silk-cashmere blend. He touched my forearm and loved how soft my sweater felt. I reciprocated, feeling his right forearm. I liked how soft his sweater was, too. I ended up squeezing his forearm.

My guy was holding my right hand, admiring my manicured nails. We talked a few minutes more. He then had to leave, but not without squeezing my upper arm.

We left work that night. We got into the elevator. It was ours. The doors closed.

"Come here," my guy said to me, extending his comforting arms out.

We didn't kiss like we normally do. He wanted a hug. We embraced for the entire duration of our elevator ride. It was a great hug. No words needed to be exchanged. It simply felt good.