“But the memories you make during your perfect pocket of time together will be there to hold on to and look back on for the rest of your life. You can pull out the moments and exchanges, gaze at them, smile, shake them up, use them to spark happiness, and daydream about your one that got away … when you need a daydream to keep you going.

“Because a snow-globe relationship never gets to leave the honeymoon stage of getting to know each other … it’s perfect and hopeful in a way that a long-term relationship isn’t. Because they always end poorly. Which is not something I necessarily believe, but…”

“Jamie does,” Dawn finishes.

I nod. “The concept though, in its own pessimistic way, is kind of beautiful.” I play with a strand of Dawn’s hair, wrapping it and unwrapping it around my finger.

“That fantastic talented asshole of ours can be surprisingly poetic.” Dawn wiggles closer on her side, until we’re chest to chest.

I blink at her, emotion suddenly welling in my throat. “Thanks for giving me a snow globe to live in on all my un-perfect days.”

Dawn’s smile spreads up her cheeks. “Thank you for showing me so much kindness during a difficult time. It’s been … a while since anyone made me feel so solid.” She swallows. “And beautiful. I mean, I know I am. I know I’m a damn catch.” She sighs. “But I struggled with self-esteem issues and feeling shitty about myself for a long time during my last relationship. I didn’t even realize it was happening until I was in really deep with my ex.”

“I’m so sorry that happened.”

Dawn quirks up a shoulder. “Stronger now.”

I catch her eyes. “You are absolutely intercoursing gorgeous.”

She breaks into a rich laugh. I try to take this all in. Her smile and open heart. Her unclasped overalls. This room. This moment. I’m so content in this moment.

Dawn lifts her hand. Her pointer finger comes down on my bare shoulder. She traces lightly over my arm, the edge of my stomach, over my hip, down my thigh. It comes to a stop behind my knee. She inches forward and nips gently at my lips. I return the gesture, an eagerness rising in my chest.

“If you want, I think we have at least an hour left on that snow globe,” she says.

“I have an hour,” I whisper into her mouth. She wraps her fingers around my calf and hitches my leg around her hip.

Dawn walks me back to my dad’s house around 10 p.m. I just had the most spectacular day of my life with this girl I met a little over forty-eight hours ago. I feel free. Like I can do no wrong. There are no eggshells to crack, just stable ground under my feet.