But when Jasmine turns and strolls closer, I don’t tell her to step back. Don’t put some distance between us, even though I’m stiff as a board. No, I wait, breath held in my lungs, as Jasmine grins up at me and tickles the feather duster down the center of my chest. My abs twitch beneath my shirt, and the touch is so ticklish my back teeth grind.

“What do you think?” Jasmine says. Her glossy hair is in a ponytail again, her honey brown eyes fringed with dark lashes. She’s teasing me, lips curled in a smile, but there’s an edge to her words too. A challenge. “Wanna take...