Before my brain can formulate a coherent protest, Rocki’s hands dart out, grabbing the front of my shirt, and she pulls me forward with surprising force. Her face fills my vision, her lips parting, her eyes fluttering shut. The scent of citrus and warm skin overwhelms me.

At the last possible moment, a surge of panicked clarity hits. Just before our lips meet, I plant my hands on her shoulders and push her back.

The force, born of my own flustered strength, sends her sprawling backwards onto ...