“The way his voice wraps around my name makes me wish the only word in his entire vocabulary was 'Sky'.”

“He removes his jacket and wraps it around my shoulders, holding onto my arm as he walks me across the street. I feel a little pathetic with him assisting me—I can walk on my own. I don’t object though, and I feel like a hypocrite to the entire feminist movement. I’ve regressed to the damsel in distress.”

“He places his palm over my heart, then pulls my hand to his chest over his own heart. He lowers his eyes to my level, ensuring I’m here with him, giving him my complete attention. “Fuck all the firsts, Sky. The only thing that matters to me with you are the forevers.”

“The way he’s watching me makes me feel needed like no one’s ever been able to make me feel. In a way, he makes me feel necessary. Like my existence alone is necessary for his survival.”

“My name is Olivia KingI am five years old.My mother bought me a balloon. I remember the day she walked through the front door with it. The curly hot pink ribbon trickling down her arm, wrapped around her wrist. She was smiling at me as she untied the ribbon and wrapped it around my hand.“Here Livie, I bought this for you.”She called me Livie.I was so happy. I’d never had a balloon before. I mean, I always saw balloons wrapped around other kids wrists in theparking lot of Wal-Mart, but I never dreamed I would have myvery own.My very own pink balloon.”

“I know you're mad at me," he says, looking down at me. His eyes and his words are full of remorse, but the apology still doesn't come. "I need you to be mad at me, Sky. But I think I need you to still want me here with you even more.”

“I throw my arms around his neck and let him hold me. All seventeen years of me.”