back to me, and I had stopped giving it.

Footsteps on the stairs brought me back.

I turned, and there he was, my boy dressed in a charcoal suit, his tie slightly crooked.

“Well?” he asked, holding out his arms.

“Come here. Your boutonniere is fighting you. And your tie.”

“Jamie tried to fix it after school,” he said, glancing down. “Apparently neither continue reading …