Behind his eyes, the trees in the once-dark forest are orange in the growing light. Wolves scamper off and gnash their teeth at the rising sun, and all manner of threatening, creepy shadows melt into nothing as I watch the world that is Nolan uncurl from its sleep.

When the light reaches his eyes and shines out, he tilts his head ever so slightly. I hold my breath as he both pulls me in and leans into me with a sigh that sounds like a crashing wave.

“Amelia,” he whispers, and then his lips are on mine.

It’s not my first kiss. There were boys I dated. But I forget their names and faces in this moment, as I press forward, trying to shrink the space between Nolan and me into nothing.

Nolan and me.

He kisses like he talks when he is passionate about something—thoroughly, completely, and with such precision you wonder if anyone else could ever compare.

We fall into a rhythm, quick, slow, quick, slow, but eventually the lack of breath catches up with me and I gently push him away.

“Need to breathe,” I exhale.

He brings my lips back to his, but doesn’t press them together.

“Breathe like this,” he says against my lips, “but don’t go.”

A cruel reminder.

I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry I have to go back to Texas.”

He leans back a fraction, sprawling his hand against my neck and rubbing his thumb up and down my cheekbone. “I’m sorry you feel trapped,” he whispers.

I smile, but if his kiss was the sea, this smile is a puddle. “I’m sorry that you’re sorry.”

He tilts his head forward, stopping just short of our lips meeting again.

“Can we pretend,” he says with his voice low, “that this is the part where you decide to stay in Lochbrook?”

My heart is steady in my chest, the butterflies at bay. It’s an overlapping of universes, a burst in the space–time continuum. For a second, I am Amelia, destined to stay in Michigan beside Nolan and his weird dog, confident in her lack of plans and laughing at the world. An Amelia who completely ignores Jenna’s neat, orderly plans and instead makes her own blueprint. She collects one-shot photos, goes to community college, tries every program in the curriculum, and the clever wind is happy with her choice.

“I can’t stay,” I say, and under my breath I add, “I pinky promised.” When Nolan’s face falls, I continue, “But I am very, very good at pretend.”

“Well.” His smile is crooked, a little sad, but gleaming. “If that’s the case…”