Ciara's POV
Once dressed, I run downstairs to grab a banana for breakfast and a cup of coffee. My mind is consumed with images of Owen. I feel like a 13-year-old teenage girl who’s crushing on the new boy in Mr. Janson’s first-period English class during middle school. Thinking of Owen’s cute smirk makes my legs weak at the knees and my va-ja-ja scream “haaaallllaaaa!!!”
My mood has done a 180, and I decided not to let anything, not even my brother, spoil it. I pop in my earbuds and flip through my phone’s playlists to the “Dance music” folder while I wait for the coffee machine to heat up. I press play on the song “Bamboleo” by the Gypsy Kings and start swaying my hips to the salsa music around the kitchen. I like anything that makes my butt jiggle.
I pull my hair up into a high, messy
