Two weeks after my conversation with Easton in the biology classroom, I realized something was wrong with me. Every time we had to kiss in the hallways of Northridge University, my heart would race. Every time we went on a date with the sole purpose of being seen by others, my heart would race. Every time he leaned close to my ear to whisper something to me, my heart would race.
Why?
I didn’t have the slightest idea… or maybe I did, it’s just that the thought of saying it out loud terrified me.
“Are you mad?” Easton asked me for the hundredth time.
He had spent the entire class staring at me with his head resting on the desk. He didn’t even belong in this class; he had simply walked into the room even though Professor Fletcher had looked at him strangely.
“Hey,” he insisted. “Ashley.”
