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My heart wasn’t free to give. It already belonged to this spitfire who didn’t want it.
His admiration was not for show. It was not an act. It was solely about me and for me, and it filled me up more than any pretty words could ever do.
Chemistry was a funny thing. I truly believed you could create chemistry with a person if you both wanted it. You could choose love. You could build it. None of this falling out of love business.
He was it for her. She just hadn’t admitted it to herself yet. For her, every other guy was gray and fuzzy, and Clay was in vibrant color.
