Every email Blue ever sent me is time-stamped. So many of the emails were sent right after school. So many were sent when I was in rehearsal. Which means Martin was also in rehearsal, with no time to write and no wireless internet. Blue isn’t Martin. He’s not Cal. He’s just someone. So, I go all the way back to the beginning, back to August, and I read through everything. His subject lines. Every line of every email. I have no idea who he is. No freaking clue. But I think I’m falling for him again.
