Then she twisted around, reaching in front of me to grab a jar of seasoning. Our arms brushed. Her eyes lifted. My attention snagged on the streak of flour dust on her cheek, and instinct took over as I raised my hand and gently brushed it away with my thumb. “You got some flour…” The words trailed off as I flicked the remaining specks of powder off her skin. She froze, gaze dropping to the countertop as the song breathed a pulse of life into the moment. A reckless, drawn-out heartbeat. She swallowed. And then she blurted out on a hitched breath, “Tara thinks Whitney is still in love with
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I- BITCH 😭😭😭😭😭
