His name's Nash." Aunt Val took a butter knife from the silverware drawer. "What year is he?" I groaned inwardly. "Senior." ...here… — Rachel Vincent Copy Share Image
“I could have kissed you months ago, but it wouldn't have meant anything. I wished for you to see me. And want… — Rachel Vincent Copy Share Image
I nodded, chewing my own syrup-soaked bite. "But surely that's not all there is to it. I mean, really? A big picnic?… — Rachel Vincent Copy Share Image
