He gives me a grin, equal parts wicked and boyish, and before I really realize what’s happening, he grips the sides of my shirt and pulls. Buttons scatter, the fabric rips. And my shirt is gone. “I’ve always wanted to do that,” he says. I’m breathless with how much I liked it. Gabe stares down at me like I’ve just given him everything he’s ever wanted. “They’re just breasts,” I say for literally no reason at all. He looks up, and shakes his head, long and slow, his hair falling across his forehead. “There’s nothing just about you,” he says.
