I glance up, and without breaking eye contact, Owen slips his right hand under and around on the small of my back and pulls me toward him. I instinctively grab around his neck with my right hand, look up into his eyes, his intense eyes, and I feel like I’m floating, or dreaming, or both. I let my other hand—and the book—slowly lower. Just before I let the book drop to the floor. . . Click! . . .and it hits the ground.
