“You’re going to make me dance to this, aren’t you?” he asked.“It’s Valentine’s Day, Finch. Pretend I’m a boy.”He laughed, pulling me into his arms. “It’s hard to do that when you’re wearing a short pink dress.”“Whatever. Like you’ve never seen a boy in a dress.”Finch shrugged. “True.”

“A leather jacket,” Kami said as he shrugged into it. “Aren’t you trying a little too hard to play into certain bad boy clichés?”“Nah”, said Jared. “You’re thinking of black leather. Black leather’s for bad boys. It’s all in the color. You wouldn’t think I was a bad boy if I was wearing a pink leather jacket.”“That’s true,” Kami said. “What I would think of you, I do not know. So what does brown leather mean, then?”“I’m going for manly,” Jared said. “Maybe a little rugged.”“It’s bits of dead cow; don’t ask it to perform miracles.”

“They had to swing by Jared’s locker so he could grab his jacket. “A leather jacket,” Kami said as he shrugged into it. “Aren’t you trying a little too hard to play into certain bad boy clichés?”“Nah,” said Jared. “You’re thinking of black leather. Black leather’s for bad boys. It’s all in the color. You wouldn’t think I was a bad boy if I was wearing a pink leather jacket.”“That’s true,” Kami said. “What I would think of you, I do not know. So what does brown leather mean, then?”“I’m going for manly,” Jared said. “Maybe a little rugged.”“It’s bits of dead cow; don’t ask it to perform miracles.”

“Baby,” his voice gentled, “this is me seein’ to that soft spot when I say quiet-like that I... will... be... there... in ten. And what I mean is, when I get there in ten, your ass better be there.”Oh boy. “Are you coming on your bike?”“Yeah.”“I’m in a tight, short, little aquamarine dress with high heels. I can’t get on a bike. “You’re in a tight, short dress and high heels?” Tack asked.“Yes.”“I’ll be in there in five.”

“Aren’t you going to ask me if I’m all right?” I say.“No, I’m pretty sure you’re not all right.”He shakes his head. “I’m going to ask you not to make any decisions until we’ve talkedabout it.”

“Sloane,” he said pulling away when I started to fall out of his arms. “It’s killing me to fight this. I can’t. I don’t want to. Not anymore.”I swayed and his arms steadied me.“Are you okay?” he asked. His lips quirked. “I might have to refrain from kissing you if you’re going to faint.”