LANDON’S POV
I sit on the edge of my bed with my electric guitar resting on my lap. My fingers idly strum a tune I can't seem to finish. The notes feel empty, lifeless, as if they refuse to come together.
Because I can’t stop thinking about her.
Clarissa.
I grit my teeth, pressing my fingers harder against the frets. No, I refuse to let this girl invade my mind. But no matter how much I fight it, my thoughts circle back to yesterday. To the way she had been so damn close. The way her scent had filled my lungs, sweet yet fiery, like cinnamon and vanilla. The way her skin had felt under my fingertips, warm, soft—
I exhale sharply, forcing my hands to play another chord.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I didn’t even kiss her, yet my body reacts like I did. My jaw clenches. I hate her
