People say when you die your life flashes before your eyes. Well, in that very moment, my future flashed before mine. Will was firmly, firmly in the closet, and obviously not comfortable with this, or us, or what we’d had. Even if he was trying to kiss me right now, a minute ago he’d definitely checked an empty room for spies. He couldn’t be less chill about this.
Argh, but right now I could smell him. So strongly. And even that made me dizzy, and weak, and honestly, I’d have traded my own grandma for the chance to kiss him now. If I kissed him, though, I’d taste him again, and I’d be right back at square one. I’d go home tonight floating and spinning out and squeaking, and I’d wait for him to text me. But he maybe—probably—wouldn’t. And he’d maybe—probably—be all weird at school tomorrow
