📚 From Sunday:

As I approach, he brushes off the hood with his hand, revealing his face, and I stutter a breath. Dang, he’s grown up nice. When he’s not hunched over, he’s tall—and inch or two over my own six-feet-one—and muscular and broad all over. His hair is buzzed completely off, his ears sticking out a little too much, and a neatly trimmed beard frames and draws attention to pink, thin lips. His eyes are dark, almost black, and suck me into his gaze.