Chapter Twenty
Christopher has been reviewing my notes for over an hour, and I’ve been sipping from a bottle of ginger beer and stealing glances at him the entire time, pretending I’m not a little freaked out he’s here.
I gave him one of my oversized Brandton University sweatshirts to wear so he wouldn’t have to sit around in a wet shirt. And so I wouldn’t have to see him sitting around in a wet shirt. Even though it’s snug on him and smells like lavender fabric softener, he’s unquestionably masculine and undeniably distracting. When he leans in, pointing at one of the papers in his hand, the press of his thigh against mine tests my resolve.
“So what you’re proposing is a partnership between Pointe Hill State’s mentoring program and these merchants,” he says, tapping the paperwork.
“Ye
