Dear Rosie, (Love Letters #2)

31. Nate

THIRTY-ONE

NATE

I don’t turn around.

I want to.

I can feel Rosie’s gaze on me.

Can feel her attention.

But this isn’t the time—or place—to sort out what’s so obviously between us.

I slide my hands into my pockets, where I have three marshmallows shoved in each, and keep walking.