And she was all, you need to try harder, Tiffany. Is it so wrong that I have a life? She is sooo clueless…” Tate tuned out the chatty Tiffany and smiled at her internal memories: the slide of Jace’s heated skin against her own; the feel of his soapy hands as they slid over her body in the shower; the pressure of his lips as they shared a slice of pear at breakfast; and his pressing her so urgently against her apartment door before giving her one last lingering kiss and sprinting off down the stairs. The clearing of the Professor’s throat brought Tate back to her surroundings. The words Pop Quiz were written across the blackboard. Blinking rapidly, she reached into her bag and grabbed a pencil – grinning at how far removed her memories of Jace had taken her. Oh, life was good! She couldn’t wipe the silly grin off her face as she sat through class after class. And the things that normally kept her riveted, she couldn’t focus on. Her thoughts revolved entirely around Jace and his touch, his smell, and his kiss.
