Lisette’s nostrils were suddenly filled with the rich odor of apples and hay, with a sharp, sweet undertone of sugar. The scent made her heart clip clop in her chest. It took her back to her childhood on her Uncle Schaffer’s farm, to those long, summer days spent riding horses, mucking their stalls, braiding their manes and tails.
She felt warm breath on her neck, and the whiskery muzzle of a horse lipping at her…she turned quickly, but instead of a horse she found herself looking into the huge brown eyes of Blake B’eauty, the Belgian exchange student with the long flowing hair and tight, tight pants.
“What are you doing here?” she asked breathlessly.
“Sorry,” he murmured. “You smell so sweet…like sugar.”
“My mother gave me a brown sugar scrub for Christmas,” she said.
“Ah…it’s delicious,” he said, and laughed, stomping his foot on the ground as he did.
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