The Mistake: Vk Elle Kennedy

“I’ve been making a mistake all year,” he admitted, voice rough. “And it wasn’t Grace. It was thinking I had to get over her to be ready for something real. But I’m not getting over her, Romi. I’m getting to you.”

They sat in silence for a long minute. Logan stared at the amber liquid in his glass. Romi stared at him. The Mistake Vk Elle Kennedy

Logan looked up. Ramona “Romi” Perez stood in the doorway, arms crossed, dark hair tumbling over one shoulder. She wasn’t dressed up—just Briar sweatpants and an old T-shirt—but somehow she still looked like she belonged on a magazine cover. It was annoying. She was annoying. “I’ve been making a mistake all year,” he

“Because I forgot my keys.” She held them up. Then, instead of leaving, she sat down on the opposite end of the couch. Close enough that he could smell her shampoo. Coconut and something sharp. Like lime. But I’m not getting over her, Romi

“You’re doing it again.”

“Romi,” he started.