“It’s the Avett Brothers,” I say. She arches her eyebrow and looks at me inquisitively as I explain the song. The fact that she apparently loves this band as much as I do stimulates a feeling deep in the pit of my stomach that I haven’t felt in years.

Good lord, I’ve got butterflies.

She glances down at my hand still clasped on top of hers. I pull my hand back and run it down my pants, hoping it didn’t make her uncomfortable. I’m almost positive she’s blushing again, though. That’s a good sign. That’s a really good sign.

The entire rest of the way to the grocery store, she tells me all about her family. She mostly talks about the recent death of her father and her birthday gift from him. She continues talking about her father and everything her family has been through this year. It explains that distant look she gets in her eyes sometimes. I can’t help but feel somewhat connected with her, knowing she can relate on some level with what I’ve been through the last few years. I tense up at the thought of having to tell her about my parents right now.

I can feel the conversation on her end coming to a close, so I point her in the actual direction of the grocery store, hoping it will deflect the parental subject before it becomes my turn to share. When we pull into the parking lot, I’m both relieved and anxious. Relieved that I didn’t have to explain my situation with Caulder to her, but anxious at the thought that I know the conversation is inevitable. I just don’t want to scare her off yet.

“Wow,” she says. “Is that the quickest way to the store? That drive took twenty minutes.”

I swing the door open and wink at her. “No, actually it’s not.” I step out of the car, impressed with myself. It’s been so long since I’ve been into a girl, I wasn’t sure if I still had any game. She’s got to realize I’m flirting with her. I like her. She seems to like me, but she’s not as forward as I am, so I’m not sure. I’m definitely not one to play games, so I decide to just go with it. I grab her hand, tell her to run, and pull her faster toward the entrance. I do this partly because we’re getting soaked, but mostly because I just wanted an excuse to grab her hand again.

When we get inside she’s soaking wet and laughing. It’s the first time I’ve really heard her laugh. I like her laugh.

There’s a strand of wet hair stuck to her cheek, so I reach up and wipe it away. As soon as my fingers touch her skin, her eyes lock with mine and she stops laughing.

Damn, those eyes. I continue to stare at her, unable to look away. She’s beautiful. So damn beautiful.

She breaks our stare and clears her throat. Her reaction is somewhat guarded, like I may have made her feel uncomfortable. She hands me the grocery list and grabs a cart. “Does it always snow in September?” she asks.

We just had a seriously intense, slightly awkward moment . . . and she’s asking me about the weather? I laugh.

“No, it won’t last more than a few days, maybe a week. Most of the time the snow doesn’t start until late October. You’re lucky.”

She looks at me. “Lucky?”

“Yeah. It’s a pretty rare cold front. You got here right in time.”

“Huh. I assumed most of y’all would hate the snow. Doesn’t it snow here most of the year?”

It’s official. The southern accent is my absolute favorite now. “Y’all?” I laugh.

“What?” she says defensively.

I shake my head and smile. “Nothing. I’ve just never heard anyone say ‘y’all’ in real life before. It’s cute. So southern belle.”

She laughs at my comment. “Oh, I’m sorry. From now on I’ll do like you Yankees and waste my breath by saying ‘all you guys.’ ”

“Don’t,” I say, nudging her shoulder. “I like your accent, it’s perfect.”

She blushes again, but doesn’t look away. I look down at the grocery list and pretend to read it, but I can’t help but notice she’s staring at me. Intensely staring. Almost like she’s trying to figure me out or something.

She eventually turns her head and I steer her in the direction of the foods on her list.

“Lucky Charms?” I say, eyeing her as she grabs three huge boxes of the cereal. “Is that Kel’s favorite?”

She grins at me. “No, actually it’s mine.”

“I’m more of a Rice Krispies fan myself.” I take the boxes of cereal from her and throw them into the cart.

“Rice Krispies are boring,” she says.

“The hell they are! Rice Krispies make Rice Krispies treats. What can your cereal do?”

“Lucky Charms have shooting star marshmallows in them. You get to make a wish every time you eat one.”

“Oh, yeah?” I laugh. “And what are you gonna wish for? You’ve got three boxes, that’s a lot of wishes.”

She folds her arms across the handle of the cart and leans forward while she pushes it. She gets that same distant look in her eyes again. “I’d wish I could be back in Texas,” she says quietly.

The sadness in her answer makes me want to hug her. I don’t know what it is about Michigan that makes her feel this way. I just have an overwhelming need to console her. “What do you miss so much about Texas?”

“Everything,” she says. “The lack of snow, the lack of concrete, the lack of people, the lack of . . .” She pauses. “The lack of unfamiliarity.”

“Boyfriend?”

I say it without even thinking. It’s like I lose my filter when I’m around her. She shoots me a look of confusion, almost as though she doesn’t want to misinterpret my question.

“You miss your boyfriend?” I clarify.

She smiles at me, erasing the troubled look that consumed her features just seconds ago. “No boyfriend,” she says.

I smile back at her. Nice.

I DECIDE TO take her the quick route home. I would have taken her the long way again, just to spend more time with her, but I figure she actually needs to know how to get to the grocery store in the event I can’t invite myself along on the next trip. When we pull into her driveway I hop out and make my way around to the rear of the Jeep. When she pops the hood, I pull it open and watch as she gathers her things together. It surprises me how disappointed I am that we’re about to part ways again. I hate the thought that once these groceries are unloaded, I’m going to have to go back home. I want to spend more time with her.

When she meets me at the back of the Jeep, she smiles and places her hand over her heart. “Why! I never would have been able to find the store without your help. Thank you so much for your hospitality, kind sir.”

Oh.

My.

God.

That is the hottest damn southern impression I’ve ever heard. And that smile. And that nervous laughter. Everything she does pierces my heart. It’s all I can do to stop myself from grabbing her face and kissing the hell out of her right here and now. Looking down at her, watching her laugh . . . God, I’ve never wanted to kiss a girl so bad in my entire life.

“What?” she says nervously. She can obviously see the internal struggle behind my expression.

Don’t do it, Will.

I ignore my better judgment and step forward. Her eyes remain locked on mine as I cup her chin with my free hand. My bold move causes a small gasp to pass between her lips, but she makes no move to pull away. Her skin is soft beneath my fingertips. I bet her lips are even softer.

My eyes scroll over her features, admiring their beautiful simplicity. She doesn’t shy away. In fact, she looks a little bit hopeful, like she would welcome my lips on hers.

Don’t kiss her. Don’t do it. You’ll screw this up, Will.

I attempt to silence the voice in my head, but it ultimately wins out. It’s way too soon. And it’s broad daylight. Her mother’s home, for Christ’s sake! What am I thinking?

I slide my hand around to the back of her neck, then kiss her on her forehead, instead. I take a step back and reluctantly drop my hand. I have to remind myself to breathe. Being this close to her is suffocating, but in the best way.

“You’re so cute,” I say, attempting to make light of the moment. I grab a few sacks out of the back of the Jeep and quickly head to the front door before she comes to her senses and punches me. I can’t believe I just kissed her on the forehead! I’ve only known the girl for two days!

I set the bags down and head back to the Jeep just as her mother makes her way outside.

I feel nothing but relieved over my decision not to kiss her when I realize we would have been interrupted. A humiliating thought.

I reach my hand out to introduce myself. “You must be Layken and Kel’s mom. I’m Will Cooper. We live across the street.”

She smiles a welcoming smile. She seems nice; not intimidating at all. It’s amazing how much Layken looks like her.

“Julia Cohen,” she says. “You’re Caulder’s older brother?”

“Yes, Ma’am. Older by twelve years.”

She stares at me for a moment. “So that makes you . . . twenty-one?”

I’m not sure, because it happens so fast, but I could swear she glances behind me and winks at Layken. She returns her focus back in my direction and smiles again.

“Well, I’m glad Kel and Lake were able to make friends so fast,” she says.

“Me, too.”

Julia releases my hand and turns toward the house, grabbing the sacks in the entryway.

Lake. She calls her Lake. I might like that even more than Layken. I reach in and grab the last two sacks out of the back of her Jeep.

“Lake, huh? I like that.” I hand her the sacks and shut the back. “So, Lake,” I say, leaning against her car. I fold my arms across my chest and take a deep breath. This part is always the hardest. The “asking out” part.

“Caulder and I are going to Detroit on Friday. We’ll be gone until late Sunday, family stuff,” I say. “I was wondering if you had any plans for tomorrow night, before I go?”

She grins at me, then makes a face like she’s trying to stifle the grin. I wish she wouldn’t do that. Her smile is breathtaking.

“Are you really going to make me admit that I have absolutely no life here?” she says.

That wasn’t a no, so I take it as a yes. “Great. It’s a date then. I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty.” I immediately turn and head back to my house before she can object. I didn’t officially ask her out. In fact, it was more like I just told her. But . . . she sure didn’t object. That’s a good sign. That’s a really good sign.

4.

the honeymoon

LAKE PULLS HERSELF up onto her elbows and rests her chin in her hands.

“You’re really enjoying this,” I say.

She’s smiling. “I don’t think I ever told you, but when you kissed me on the forehead that day it was the best kiss I’d ever had. Up to that point, anyway,” she says, falling back against her pillow.

I lean in and replicate the forehead kiss, except this time I don’t stop there. I plant tiny pecks all the way down to the tip of her nose, then I pull back. “Mine, too,” I say, looking into the eyes that I get to wake up to every morning for the rest of my life. At the risk of sounding cheesy, I’ve got to be the luckiest man in the world.