It was Jack on our breath and his eyes locked on me while I danced. We were out together with his friends for the first time, but as soon as we arrived the two of us lost ourselves in the crowd of 100 people squeezed into a suburban backyard.
Read More“Your amazing,” he writes just as my treadmill starts to speed up.
And yes, he spelled it wrong, and the editor in me tries to withhold her judgment and not let an apostrophe, re, keep the butterflies at bay. But the butterflies aren’t coming anyway. They rarely come with him.
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