DAXTON

My firecracker was like a loaded gun. She stood in front of me, drying my hair with a hairdryer, and even though I couldn't see her, I knew she was stealing glances at me. She was severely tense and had been that way since I deliriously confessed my feelings to her. At first, I didn't remember doing it. But eventually, I did. And now, I was wondering if I'd made a mistake.

"Are you okay?" I asked, and she flinched. She must've been lost in thought.

She pushed my hair ...