There was no point getting all worked up about a kiss. One kiss does not a relationship make. I'd kissed boys before, and usually by the next day the kiss had evaporated like a dewdrop in the sun.

In books and movies, the stories always end when the two people finally have their romantic kiss. The happily-ever-after part is just assumed

I know that all the magic kisses in the world probably couldn't have helped him today. But I would do anything to have been able to give him one.

I remember watching it all and getting the tickling in my chest and thinking to myself: This is what happiness feels like.

All I can think about is how fucked up it would be for your life to end here, now. I mean I know that your life if fucked up no matter what now, forever. And I'm not dumb enough to think that I can undo that, that anyone can. But I can't wrap my mind around the notion of you not getting old, having kids, going to Juilliard, getting to play that cello in front of a huge audience, so that they can get the chills the way I do every time I see you pick up your bow, every time I see you smile at me.

But I'd understand if you chose love, Adam love, over music love. Either way you win. And either way you lose. What can I tell you? Love's a bitch.