📚 From Monday:

The French guy agitates my heart with his singing, and Ronan calms it with his kindheartedness. The contrasts are intense, making my skin feel too snug for my body, my chest tight, and my stomach worried. My pulse flutters in my neck, and I worry that Ronan will see it. I don’t know what to do with myself.

So I allow myself to look at Ronan, seeking comfort in his calming presence. I drink in the warmth radiating from him as though he’s the sun and I’m a sagging flower in desperate need of his rays of life.