I refuse to get caught up in him. He must be able to see the battle raging in my brain because he grins at me. Dimples. Those damn dimples. I’m practically panting now, trying to breathe, trying to ignore this boy in front of me. Trying to ignore his dazzling smiles and difficult past I now know so much about. His caring and charming side, the little things that make up him, his hands that are on me— I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.
