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He continues to sway us side to side with his arms around me, while Mae finishes my job for me.
“I have to call my dad to meet the movers now.” I groan.
“Your dad loves doing stuff like that,” Mae says.
“We need to celebrate.” Jake spins me just as the door opens.
He loses his grip, and I twirl until I fall into a rock-hard body. One fleeting glance into his soft brown eyes and I slide down his body as though he’s caked in Vaseline, landing in a heap at his feet.
“What the hell is going on in here?” Mr. Mancini’s voice booms through the small room.
Did God curse him because he’s so beautiful? When he was doling out attributes, did he check the box next to “asshole” to prove you can’t have everything in life?
