11
Zoey
He looked good in crisp dark jeans and a pale green shirt that clung to his heavenly chest. I couldn’t look away because something about looking at him just seemed to bring me to life. I could suddenly smell better—the crisp graphite of a newly sharpened pencil pierced my nostrils—hear better—every crinkle of paper and shift of a book bag rattled through my eardrums—see better—the fluorescent lights sprayed down on his neatly combed dark hair—even taste better—the hint of mint toothpaste coated my teeth.
At first, Quinn didn’t see Reese; he was too busy scanning the back of the room. When he did spot her, she was already right there—barefoot and all—plowing into him. He jerked a startled step away, but Reese tackled him into a hug anyway.
“I’m so glad you share a class with us,
