Letting it all go, I focused on getting ready for my date.

I’d gone to my house earlier, and Dad had helped me load my car with my sewing machine but not many clothes would fit. So I’d left the designer dresses and shoes in favor of jeans and shirts I’d need for school. I didn’t have much money for a date outfit, so Mila came by and dropped off a pink bridesmaid’s dress she said I could have. She knew I needed the distraction of sewing.

I got to work, chopping off the length and sleeves and turning the sweetheart bodice into a camisole style with spaghetti straps. With some of the fabric I’d cut off and some lace, I made a fun belt to tie around my waist and a headband for my straightened hair. I slipped the dress on and deliberated on my shoes, my eyes caressing the new boots but deciding on some brown wedges I’d gotten on a recent trip to the mall. They weren’t Jimmy Choos, but I’d paid for them with my own money.

And when I was dressed and looked at the girl in the mirror, she seemed better than the day before.

THAT NIGHT DREW took me to a waterfront Tex-Mex restaurant on Lake Ray Hubbard that had stunning views of the water and sailboats. The restaurant was on the fifteenth floor of a beautiful stone resort, and we sat by a big picture window to gaze out.

Over a meal of spicy fish and shrimp tacos, we talked and renewed our friendship. It was apparent we had a lot in common.

“Are you going to UT next fall?” he asked me.

I finished my mouthful of food. “Probably. I thought I wanted to go to Princeton and be a lawyer like everyone else in my family. But now that I know I’m not going, it’s a relief to know I don’t have to live up to everyone’s expectations.” I shrugged. “And UT has a great art and fashion department.”

He grinned. “UT could be good if we’re there together. I’ll be your academic nemesis for four more years.”

“Huh. You know you’ll be calling me every night to help you with Cal.”

“One can only hope,” he murmured, giving me a heated glance.

I stared down at my food, thinking a little about Leo and his song.

Drew cleared his throat. “You know, you’re not fooling me. You’ve got something on your mind.”

I blushed. “What do you mean?”

He shook his head at me with a wry grin. “You’ve looked out that window a lot tonight. And you’ve got that faraway look in your eyes you get after you’ve read some of that sappy poetry in class.” He pointed his fork at me and said, “I’ve been in almost every class with you since seventh grade. I know you.”

I sat my fork down and studied him. His wavy brown hair was a tad overlong, but I liked it. He’d worn snug jeans, a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of Converse on his big feet. My eyes lingered over his lean but muscled chest. He was a handsome guy. Lots of girls at BA wanted him. Could I fall for him if I tried? Did I want to?

“Let me ask you something,” I said.

“Shoot.”

“When I was in seventh grade, do you remember what I looked like? Chubby with silver braces?” I asked.

“Yep, and you were pretty too, especially when you’d get that little wrinkle right here, every time you took a test,” he said, running his finger across my forehead.

He added, “And we all had a weird stage. Remember I was tall and gangly with no muscle to speak of. Telephone pole with arms was what they called me.”

“I was crazy about you for a long time,” I said wryly.

“I never knew,” he said sadly. “Until January, I’d never dreamed you’d give me the time of day. You were kinda quiet and did your own thing. Never came to parties or hung out. You just studied and did school stuff. I’ve always liked you too, Nora. But, you . . . I don’t know . . . it’s like you had this force field around you, and no one could get in to the real you.”

I took a sip of soda, not sure what to say.

“We had something once in New York. Maybe it was because we were both out of Highland Park, and you loosened up. You became this whole other person there, and I think I fell for you a little that weekend. But I messed up and got scared. I kept remembering how distant you could be and I . . . I went back to Lori. Did I ruin what we had?” he asked, his face earnest.

I sighed. “They say timing is everything.”

“Is it Sebastian you’ve been thinking about tonight?”

“No,” I said in surprise.

He shook his head thoughtfully. “You know what, forget I asked. It doesn’t matter who it is. All I want to know is can we try again?”

I blinked.

He continued, “We’ve liked each other a long time, and New York was fucking amazing,” he said with a little groan, reaching over and squeezing my hand. “We had something that night, and it was more than sex. I burned for you, and you burned for me. But I fucked it up.”

“Yes.”

He exhaled heavily. “Will you give me another shot?”

“I don’t want to get my heart broken again, Drew. It’s been stomped on a lot, and I can’t take much more. And don’t get me started on Lori. She’s not here anymore, and I can’t help but think that’s the only reason you want me now.”

He shook his head. “Even when I was with her, I watched you and wanted you. This has nothing to do with her. It’s about us. About starting all over again and giving us a chance. Let me make those shadows in your eyes go away, Nora.”

I gazed into his eyes, and they were warm and soft. I thought about our night together, how sweet it had been, how his body had worshipped mine.

If I wanted a chance at being happy, why not see where this might go?

“Do you think you can make me happy?” I teased, but I meant it.

“Hell, yes. Just give me a chance.”

I smiled slowly. “You got it.”

“You never stop loving someone;

you just learn to live without them.”

–Nora Blakely

THE DAYS MARCHED on, turning into weeks. Drew and I had gone out on a few more dates, and he’d come to the shop on some nights, and we’d do our Cal homework after band practice. We liked the same books and shows; we knew the same people; we laughed at the same jokes. We suited each other in every way.

I’d gotten my tattoo. I’d gone in one day and described to Shayla what I wanted, and a week later I went back to see what she’d come up with. When I saw her design, I knew it was exactly what I’d envisioned. She’d drawn a set of delicately feathered angel wings with the phrase She Flies With Her Own Wings in the middle. Since the wings were life-sized, it had taken me three visits to get the entire tat.