JASMINE
A few days after Blake’s confession, I was lying in bed late at night, absorbed in a book, when I heard a tapping on my window. Ping. The sound of something hitting the glass clanged. I got out of bed to see what was happening, pulled back the curtains, and looked out my window to see that Blake was outside my house winding his arm back. Ping. A pebble hit my window. I opened it, the warm summer air entering my room, and poked my head out to see him smiling at me and waving his hand, signaling for me to come out.
What the. . . ?
I stepped back, wondering what I should do. An internal battle ensued within me once again, the metaphorical angel and devil over my shoulders. I’d never snuck out of my house in my life. What would my parents do if they caught me? And should I really be
