“Have you been practicing?” “Practicing what exactly?” “Calling me by my name,” she says, making me laugh. “Not really. I was just tired of all the ‘she’, ‘her’, and ‘freshman’ I was using when I thought about you. You have a name, and I like it.” “That’s nice to hear.” Ava takes a step into the kitchen. Her fingers fly to her earring as she avoids looking at me. “Seeing you in my bomber is nice too. I thought you threw it away.” Her gaze dashes to me.
