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“Do you really mean that?’ I shook my head, attempting a smile. ‘I think you're pretty great,’ I said, my voice breaking. Sam's arm encircled my shoulders, and he squeezed tight. He smelled like fabric softener and damp soil and rain. ‘Swear on it?’ he said, his words muffled by hair. I felt for his bracelet blindly and tugged. ‘I think you're pretty great, too,’ he whispered. ‘You have no idea how much.” — Carley Fortune
Do you really mean that?’ I shook my head, attempting a smile. ‘I think you're pretty great,’ I said, my voice breaking. Sam's arm encircled my shoulders, and he squeezed tight. He smelled like fabric softener and damp soil and rain. ‘Swear on it?’ he said, his words muffled by hair. I felt for his bracelet blindly and tugged. ‘I think you're pretty great, too,’ he whispered. ‘You have no idea how much.