I’d been in love with Ryder Nash since I was nineteen, probably earlier than that if I was being honest with myself. I was working on getting over that, though. Moving on. Because I cherished the friendship we had. This closeness that I didn’t share with anyone else. I couldn’t imagine there would ever be a day that a part of me wouldn’t hang onto the fantasies of him looking at me the way I looked at him. The part that would get tripped up when he got close to me, the way he just had.
