“It’s not an endgame.” I push away from the wall and step close, carefully lift the curls around her hairline away from her face. “It’s a begin game.” I pull away almost before I get to feel the soft fineness of her hair, but she goes still, like she’s glued to the spot. “What does that mean? ‘Begin game’?” “It’s a long game. I don’t want to interfere with all you’re doing, how you’re working on yourself. I think it’s awesome, but if I can find a way to see you, I will.”
