Pretending the kiss hadn't happened lasted until Thursday morning, when Luca reached across me for a book and I forgot how arms worked. We were in the library before class, sitting at the same table we'd used dozens of times, and nothing about the situation should have been difficult. My history textbook was open in front of me. Luca had come to return notes he'd borrowed. The book he wanted was sitting on the shelf behind my chair, so instead of asking me to move, he leaned over and reached for it. His chest brushed my shoulder for less than a second. I immediately remembered his hand behind my neck, his mouth on mine and the way I'd grabbed his sweatshirt like letting go wasn't an option. My pen slipped from my fingers and rolled beneath the table.
Luca froze with the book halfway off t
