That’s right. It’s been one week since Cole Harding called me his friend and kissed me on the cheek, and I’m a bumbling mess around the man. One week since I crawled into his bed and held his hand in mine like I had a right to. Every touch, every look, every gentle word, it’s like a slow-motion reel that won’t stop playing through my mind. I’m so far gone, it’s not even funny.
