Wren
I was still trying to remember how to breathe.
It’s been… what? Twenty minutes? Maybe thirty?
And I swear, I could still feel his hand on my waist.
Could still feel the heat of him, the tension buzzing between us, the way the world just paused like the universe was holding its breath to see if Damon Vale would actually kiss me.
Spoiler alert: he didn’t.
Because right when I was one exhale away from making a terrible, wonderful, soul-shattering decision...
His phone rang.
And now?
Now I’m sitting on the armrest of the couch, blinking at the flat-screen TV that no one’s watching, while Cam, his loud, charming, chaos-in-a-hoodie best friend, recaps something about a guy named Brad who may or may not have been naked at a wine tasting.
I think he’s been talking non-stop for fift
