Alessandra
I wake up Saturday morning feeling panicked and excited at the same time.
As I hop in the shower and wash my hair, my thoughts return to my evening with Quinn. . .for about the thirty-fifth time in the two days since then. The way he took me in his arms and kissed me with such passion, and then we traded flirty comments in Italian. . .it was all so unbelievably sexy. I can already tell I’ll have a hard time keeping my cool on this date.
After stepping out of the shower, I dry off and slip into the fuzzy purple bathrobe my mom bought me last Christmas, and wrap my long, dark hair up in my towel.
What does one wear on a day date? And a classy day date, at that. Something about the sound of an Italian artists’ exhibit tells me that Quinn will make sure our breakfast outing is f
