“What the hell do I have to do to get your attention? Do I need to get up there?” I throw an arm toward the stage. His eyes swell for just a second, in shock. He reaches forward to hold my hands, but he catches himself in time and instead folds them across his chest. “Believe me, you have my full attention.”

“Trent’s chest rises with a quick inhale as his hands lift to grab mine and pull them out, placing them with a pat on the outside of his shirt. “Okay, you win. But don’t do that while I’m driving or we’ll end up in a ditch.” He looks over his shoulder again, adding in a soft, solemn tone, “I’m serious, Kacey. I can’t handle it.”

“I barrel into his arms, my mouth connecting with his. Seizing him. Feeling him. Loving him.”

“He leans in closer and closer until his breath caresses my mouth. I’m paralyzed. I swear he’s going to kiss me. I swear I’m going to let him.”

“There’s something different about him, and I don’t have to think hard to see it. Something about the way he takes over a room, the way he looks at me, like he has already identified and can disarm every one of my defense mechanisms with no effort, like he sees through them to the disaster lying beneath. And he wants it.”

“Do You think it matters if they're tiny or deep? he asked. Well, if they're not tiny breaths and they're not deep breaths, then they're just ... breaths. Then you're just breathing for the sake of ... breathing. ... Seize them. Feel them. Love them ...”

“The officer asks me if I want to press charges against Trent and I glare at him like he’s grown an arm out of his ass.”