“In fact, come to think of it, I can’t remember a time I saw his hair combed or gelled. It’s always a cute, sexy mess. Stop thinking about his hair, Kay. Then he slides into my tiny car, his shoulders wider than the seat, and I stop thinking about his hair because I’m only too aware of his face, and his body, and his male musk filling my senses. Why did I think I could put my feelings on pause even for an hour-and-a-half drive, with him beside me? God only knows. “Thank you for t...his,” he says quietly as I pull off, his voice barely audible over the Thirty Seconds to Mars album I have playing. Music is a good buffer, so I leave the volume up. “It’s on my way anyway.” I bite my lip as I slow down and stop at a traffic light. That didn’t come out the way I wanted it. “I hope your mom will be okay.” “Me too.”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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