7
Sutton
We walked out of the movie. The daisies were in my hand between us. Almost a barrier. But not quite.
I couldn’t believe that I’d actually been able to spit that all out to him. That we’d had that conversation and sat through a two-and-a-half-hour movie without trying to make out with each other’s faces. We’d been at Wright, and I’d barely been able to hold it together. But, somehow, back in that movie theater, we’d made it. The physical connection was there, as ever.
It was the emotional one that my heart was balancing on a tightrope. I didn’t know whether I’d make a misstep and plummet into the depths below.
“So…” I murmured. “Some movie.”
“Honestly? I think I’m going to have to see it again.”
“Why is that? Didn’t get your fill of the hot men?”
“I was a little distracted,
