Remi
I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t breathe. I stared at him, forcing myself to gasp in short breaths because I feared I might hyperventilate. That sinful smirk was just as I remembered it, only he wasn’t. I mean he was but not. I couldn’t even explain it.
Travis looked so much older now. He’d always been big, but he was even bigger now. Filled out in all the right places, he was a full-grown man. He looked so put together, so much more mature somehow. His long-sleeved white button-up shirt was folded at the arms up to his elbows. The big forearms he was leaning against the table were covered with tattoos, but his hair was neatly cut now. Not that messy tousled thing he used to run his fingers through, though it looked good no matter what. And, of course, his hair still looked good now. He was clean shaven, but I could see his five o’clock shadow and that humor dancing in his eyes.