“Lord help me, Gervais. I wish I could go back and tell my teenage self what she’s in for ten years down the line. She’d have keeled over on the spot.” I hear his deep chuckle, the one that warms me to my bones. The one that reminds me of the adolescent, bashful version of him. The one that’s still a facet of the complicated man he is today. “If you go back, make sure you tell her she’s got drool on her face and that it’s time to get her fine ass out of bed.” “I hate you,” I laugh back at him. But I always laugh at the wrong moment. And right now I laugh because I don’t hate Jasper at all. I
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