“He grabbed the microphone in both hands, his face exploding into a smile at the sensation. “Hey. Do not. I repeat. Do. Not. Panic. There’s nothing to be scared of. This is just your average everyday fucking miracle.”

“Okay.” The boy placed his hands on the table. “The thing is … I died before I got to see real live tits. Not just on the Internet.” He hurried to add, “I wouldn’t touch you or nothing. Obviously. But even if I could, I wouldn’t do that to you.” He looked at his hands as he dropped them into his lap. “I just want to see.”

“What the fuck do you want?" After a pause, he said in a firm voice, "This is Dylan Keeley, the guy who would've killed to trade places with you until five minutes ago." He met my eyes. "She doesn't want to talk to you. Now why don't you go back to screwing your prom queen and let me do the same.”

“I hate when people act like music is nothing but wild creativity," Logan said. "That's bullshit. It's also about counting and measuring and calibrating. If you do it right." He passed his hand over my MP3 player sitting on the bed between us. It was playing Mozart to help my concentration. "And if you do it really right, no one can tell how hard it is for you. You can let them believe it's magic, because that means you must be magic. You're worth worshipping.”

“So do you have a kilt?" Megan asked him. When I glared at her, she said, "What? He only said you couldn't ask." She looked at him. "So do you?"Straightening up, Zachary rubbed the back of his neck and smirked. "I might, I might."God, he was gorgeous. And Scottish. But maybe kind of an ass.”

“The phone in my hand buzzed. Logan had just texted I Love You - so cute how he never abbreviated it.”

“He knelt and slowly ran his hand down my arm, his lids heavy and his lips parted. “Aura . . . where can I touch you?”“Anywhere.”His hand left my arm and drifted to the rise of my hip bone. “And where can I kiss you?”I took a deep breath, long past ready for the future. “Everywhere.”