She smells like sugar now, by the way. Sweet but with a hint of spice. She’s cinnamon on French toast. And did I mention how beautiful she is? Of course, Emi was always beautiful. She was also the youngest, smartest kid in our grade—always with the right answer, forever busting the curve. The harder Emi worked, the more intimidating she became. To everyone. Guys. Girls. She was untouchable. Stop thinking about touching her, man.
