“I don’t even remember Jenna Jones.” I smiled. “Jenna Holmes.” “See? But I remember you always smelled like birthday cake. I remember the way you’d play with your hair while you did math problems. And I remember this one little skirt you had, the way it would ride up your thighs when you sat on your knees at the kitchen table.” Forget about dancing. I couldn’t even feel my feet on the ground anymore. “Tyler?” “Yeah.” I slid my hand into his thick dark hair. “I want you to kiss me.” “It’s about fucking time.”
