“Who are you?” he whispers. I already told him, but I repeat my middle name anyway. “Nicole.” He smiles but then loses the smile and says, “I know your name. But where’d you come from? Why have we never met before tonight?” I don’t want his questions. I have no honest answers. I move a little closer to his mouth. “Who are you?” “Ledger,” he says, right before he rips open my past, pulls out what’s left of my heart, drops it on the floor, and then kisses me.
