Cyrus shakes his head. “No fantasy could ever live up to you,” he whispers. “Nothing can compare to how it feels to look up and see you there. Even though I thought of you every day after you left, my imagination has proven to be painfully inadequate when it comes to the sound of your laughter, or how your brows furrow when you’re focused, or the way you steady yourself before entering a room. And you’re going to make fun of me for saying it, but part of me is worried,” he says, dropping his gaze to the white glimmer of water, “that this is just a spell. This whole trip has been so strange and
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