“You’re not having fun” was all he’d said. I didn’t want to see the solemn expression that accompanied his words. He was so beautiful when he smiled. His crooked grins over white teeth, his snowy shock of hair, the winks he’d throw my way with bright, gray eyes that scalded me like a brand, electrifying every part of me. Tonight, I knew that looking at him would mean seeing resolute strength in the set of his jaw, that disappointment would pinch his brows, that there would be no smirk, no cavalier joking, no playful moments that would plant seeds within me, growing into a garden that blossomed
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