“To me,” he says quietly, “it feels like I’m the most obvious person in the world. I leave you Post-its because I selfishly want you to think about me.” I freeze. Well, on the outside. On the inside, a shit ton is happening. Stomach tightening, chest pinching, heart thumping up into my throat. Kepler’s lips part slowly. “And I text you because every one of those pictures you send feels like it breathes life into me. I walked with you to the willow because I want every second I can get with you. Even if it fucks up my head a bit, even if I know that it’s crossing a line.” His pupils flare, the
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