My first impulse is not to grab her or kiss her or yell at her. I simple want to touch her cheek, still flushed from the night's performance. I want to cut through the space that separates us, measured in feet-not miles, not continents, not years-and to take a callused finger to her face.

Adam lay perfectly still, little groans escaping from his lips. I looked at the bow, looked at my hands, looked at Adam's face and felt this surge of love, lust, and an unfamiliar feeling of power.

I've become to realize there's a world of difference between knowing something happened, even knowing why it happened, and believing it.

What's that sound I hear? It's just my lifetime It's whistling past my ear

I'm so tired of missing things I don't have.

All relationships are tough. Just like with music, sometimes you have harmony and other times you have cacophony.

But seventeen is an inconvenient time to fall in love.