Kelly
I walk out of Crash's house and down the stairs to my car with my fingers on my lips, pressing the memories back into them, desperate to live it again.
My fear isn't gone. My anxiety about the future hasn't magically disappeared. But I know I want to try. And kissing Crash only solidified that. Because I can't stop thinking about it, and my entire body hums when I do.
So I'm distracted when I get home. It takes three tries to get the car lined up right in the driveway. And I have to go back for my bag. By the time I'm walking into the house, I'm half-floating, half-pissed at myself for being such an idiot.
"Hi," I say as I walk in the door.
Dan's on the couch tonight, a bucket of chicken in his lap, pressing against the round distension of his stomach. He doesn't acknowledge my greeting.
