If it wasn’t her lips driving me crazy, it was her derrière. When she would wear those tight blue jeans, or khaki Capri pants, I would go bonkers! ...he would wear fullback underwear, what some ‘gangsta hoes’ might deem ‘granny panties’, but I loved them. Jesus, I am a pig, aren’t I? Her smell was intoxicating. She would take two showers every day, one in the morning and one at night. She would use Irish Spring soap, bar and liquid, for everything except her hair. If you’ve never used it, Irish. It should have unnerved her like Michael usually did. Something about his sharp gaze always seemed to cut right through her. It had partially been what had attracted her in the first place, but then he’d thrust her into Matt’s way and the two had clicked quickly. Still there had always been that underlying current, tension, a connection that she’d never been able to completely define and they had both avoided like the plague. When a hot cup of coffee was gently place into her hands, Lyla. More

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