“I’m going to see you every day, and it’s going to kill me not to pounce on you.” Mickey pushes himself onto his back and raises himself on his elbows so he’s staring down at me with a grin. “On that note, no skirts, no shorts, no low-cut shirts, and—I never thought I’d agree with the teachers—no shoulders. For God’s sake, you better put away the shoulders. They’re too tempting. And those thin little tank top straps? So breakable,” he rambles, talking so fast I almost miss what he’s saying. I'd believe him if he told me that he was drunk or high.
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