This time, his smile does come out properly, and my gut swoops. It’s the same smile he wore back in high school, talking to Easton, and I don’t think I’ve seen it again since. All the air is pushed from my lungs, and I’m frozen for a moment in time, asking how something so simple can steal my breath. Or maybe that’s still the hangover. Before I can take a step toward the exit, I’m hunched back over the toilet and throwing up some more.
