I had been so mad at him when I left, I'd given them back. All except for the one that stuck to the bottom of the jar. He smiled. "They're at home, waiting." "For what?" His eyes glittered. "That, I cannot say.

He let out a sigh. With my head there against his chest, I could faintly make out the sound of his heart beating through his suit coat. It seemed to be rushing. His hand, gentle as ever, reached to cup my cheek. As I looked into his eyes, I felt that unnameable feeling that was growing between us. With his eyes, Maxon asked for something we'd both agree to wait on. I was glad he didn't want to wait anymore. I gave him a tiny nod, and he bridged the small gap between us, kissing me with unimaginable tenderness.

It hurt me to be away from him. Some days I went crazy wondering what he was doing. And when I couldn't handle it, I practiced music. I really had Aspen to thank for me being the musician that I was. He drove me to distraction. And that was bad.

It's amazing how photography can capture just a split second of something exquisite.

He stood and went to read my pin as I approached. “America, is it?” he said, a smile playing on his lips. “Yes, it is. And I know I’ve heard your name before, but could you remind me?

He reached up and tugged his ear. And I did the same.

No wonder I’d never had any friends. I was shockingly bad at it.