When we got out, she stretched up high, showing her belly under the crop top. She wore Doc Martens with rose gold hardware and a knee-length black-and-white plaid skirt to complete the outfit. Ugh, I wanted to hold her hand. And mayyyybe slide my hand up her thigh a little. Or a lot.
No. Focus. Be brave. I was never brave, but I knew what needed to be done. As much as I’d been hoping she’d bring it up first, she hadn’t yet, and I was just being a chicken now. This could ruin the whole day if you don’t do it right. What if she thinks you’re as bad as Harmony if you come on strong like this?
Shut up, brain. You’re a lying liar who lies. Also, f**k you, anxiety. I had to be brave someday, or I was never going to get to hold that hand. Or touch that thigh. Normally, I’d say that today was no
