As my hand wraps around the handle, I steel myself because every time I lay eyes on her, it’s this full-body, visceral reaction. I freeze up like a fucking teenager. My heart pounds. My hands get clammy. And I have to clamp my molars together to keep from sighing like an awestruck little boy. Because Gwen isn’t just hot as fuck. She’s kind. And fun. And thoughtful. And flexible.
