My head stays rested on his shoulder as the two of us try to regain our breathing. All the windows are fogged up, like something you see out of a movie, and I smile as I lift my hand up and put it on the window, sliding it down until I reach the door. Hayes snickers as he watches me. “Titanic, really?” “What?” I argue. “It’s a classic.” He may act like I’m ridiculous, but the grin on his face says otherwise—as do the circles he’s mindlessly rubbing against my back.
