Eighteen
Kylie
On Saturday morning, I roll out of bed and glare at the alarm clock. Since I work from sunup to sundown, I treasure my weekends. Unfortunately, I promised Mom I’d be her plus one at Glen’s family reunion later. I’m driving up separately because two hours in Glen’s backseat sounds like torture.
To be honest, it all sounds like torture.
I stretch and pick my phone up to flick through social media, too lazy to get ready even though I’ll be late and Mom will probably ring my phone from Belize City to Cayo. My heart stutters when I see a message from Tanner.
We’ve been texting non-stop since Thursday night. I feel like a teenager again—caught in this hazy no-man's-land of liking someone but being too proud to use those actual words. Are we messing? ‘Talking’? Dating? Who kno
