It’s crazy, I mean, it is c-r-a-z-y, but certainty lands when he says, “Woodbridge,” and I reply, “Uni High,” and he says, “Terra Bernice,” and I reply, “Callum Jude,” and he says, “Rowing,” and I pause and then reply, “You already know I played lacrosse,” and then he cups the side of my neck with his non-cupcake-holding hand and leans in. “Too soon?” he asks, breath minty, his lips only an inch from mine. “I don’t normally kiss before the first date,” I tell him. “But you’re the exception to the rule.”
