July 1983
Jessie dug her red, white, and blue toenails into the sand and forced herself to breathe. The boy she had loved for the past three years was so close she smelled his shower soap. Above them, the Fourth of July fireworks rained sizzling streaks of red, green, gold, and blue into Lake Michigan. She couldn’t believe it was finally happening. Lee Archer liked her. Correction. He liked her as more than a friend.
Lee shifted against the log that they leaned against, and his shoulder brushed against hers. When he gave her a lopsided smile, she gripped the edges of her frayed shorts to keep from grabbing his dark curls and planting a kiss on his soft lips—at least she imagined they’d be soft. She didn’t have much experience in that department.
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