Back on her desk, Izzy tries to focus on her work but she finds it impossible. Every time she shuts her eyes, she can feel Miles’ lips on hers, warm and tender. She shakes her head vigorously as if trying to shake off the memory.
But it’s there, etched in the corners of her mind, resurfacing every so often with a potency that makes her catch her breath. She rubs her temples, willing herself to concentrate and move on from the distracting memory.
“Concentrate, Izzy,” she mutters to herself, forcing her eyes back on the pile of work on her desk. But it’s no use. Her thoughts keep on drifting back to Miles — his warm voice, his soft gaze, the way his kiss made her feel... and her wanting more of those gentle kisses.
She pushes the papers away in frustration, knocking over a cup of pens. She stares at the scattered pens for a while before bending down to pick them up. As she does, a picture falls out from one of the books stacked on her desk. It is a picture of her and Miles from last summ
