He kissed me then, exhibiting the patience of a man who considered the future, and with the urgency of a man who lived for right now. It was, without doubt, the best kiss of my life.

“Dance with me,” he said, winding his arms around my neck and pulling me close. Settling his mouth outside my ear, he starting humming along to the chorus.

“I thought you hated this song,” I said, swaying against him.

“I did.”

“And what made you change your mind?”

He grinned, dipping me low to the floor. “You,” he answered.

Then, lifting me up, his head fell back and he opened his mouth wide. “Once I let Lucy Larson into my heart! I was able to take my sad, shitty song and make it better!” he sung, off key and at full volume. Some of the students around us tipped their beers at him, some broke in during the “Nah, nah, nah,” chorus, and a few looked like at him like he was a crazy man.

But I just laughed—I already knew he was crazy. And I loved him for it. “I think that’s called taking creative liberties with the lyrics.”

“I don’t really care what it is,” he said, “because after everything that’s happened in my life, I get to crawl into bed with you every night.”

Leaning back, I studied that face I’d fallen for one hot summer day over a year ago, and now I’d fallen in love with the rest of the man behind that face. “How does a guy like you promise someone forever at eighteen?”

“Easy,” he said, pressing a soft kiss into the corner of my mouth. “He finds a girl like you.”

THE END