He laughed, a low sound that caught in the humid air. He reached out, his fingers brushing against her knee. It was a small gesture, but in the hazy logic of the basement, it felt like a tectonic shift.
The air in Leo’s basement smelled like cheap watermelon vodka and damp concrete, a scent that would forever be the fragrance of seventeen. drunk teen sex
Maya sat on a washing machine, swinging her legs, her head feeling like it was packed with cotton candy. Across from her, holding a red plastic cup like it was a holy relic, was Sam. They had spent three years being "just friends"—the kind of friends who shared notes and made fun of each other's haircuts. He laughed, a low sound that caught in the humid air
"I don't want to be the guy who says this at a party," Sam whispered, stepping into her space until she could smell the mint he’d chewed to hide the beer. "But I think I’ve been in love with you since tenth-grade geometry. And I’m tired of pretending I’m not." The air in Leo’s basement smelled like cheap