Page 53 of Saylor


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“I love gummy bears.”

“I know. Especially the––”

“White ones,” I finish for him with a smile. “I thought you didn’t like those?”

“I saved that color for you because they were your favorite. Now, they’re the first ones gone from the bag.”

My nose scrunches as I try to contain my grin, but it’s no use. “What else?”

“What else did you get me hooked on?”

I nod.

“Hmm, let’s see…pumpkin spice lattes.”

“Because they’re delicious,” I point out. “I still can’t believe you’d never tried one before me.”

“That’s because I thought it was a girly drink.”

“A delicious girly drink,” I correct him with a smile.

He returns it with one of his own. “Agreed. I still order a few every fall and think of you, ya know.” He nudges my shoulder again but doesn’t pull away this time. Instead, the heat from his side practically burns me from the top of my shoulder all the way down to my elbow.

I lick my lips and peek up at him. “Well, to be fair, you’ve ruined me with your fancy-schmancy coffee creamer, and I drink that almost every day. So….”

“So, I guess we both ruined each other in different ways.”

“I guess so,” I admit in a quiet voice, mesmerized by the way his cool blue eyes have little crinkles in the corners and are framed by thick, dark lashes any woman would kill for. I clear my throat. “What else do you miss?”

“About us?” he questions. “Lots of things. Even after all these years, random shit reminds me of you all the time.”

“Like what?”

“Like Star Wars,” he teases, motioning to the paused screen with the bright yellow Star Wars logo shining back at us.

“And?”

“And music,” he continues.

“Music?”

“Blink-182, for example.”

I laugh as the memories wrap around me like a warm blanket. “We used to belt out the lyrics at the top of our lungs while in your car.”

“I remember that your favorite songs were ‘Always’ and ‘First Date.’”

“They’re still my favorites,” I confirm.

“Which made them my favorites too.” Leaning closer, he murmurs, “Want to know a secret?”

His breath is laced with the smell of popcorn and bad decisions. With a gulp, I nod.

“Grady knows most of their songs, thanks to them being on repeat in the car.”

Shocked, I argue, “No, he doesn’t.”

“He does.”

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