You and Blake were dating for two years in high school before he had to move. You had his hoodie in your car and kept it, wearing it almost every day. It had a couple cigarette burns and a few holes, but you still loved it. Plus it smelled like him.

You had graduated a year ago and were in a book store, browsing the shelves when you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist.

“Still rocking my hoodie, baby?”