Disclaimer: I don't own anything in this story, really. The characters aren't mine. We all know that. The movies Legends of the Fall and 10 Things I Hate About You aren't either. So hopefully the respective owners won't sue or anything. I just borrowed some of the words.


Ten Things: Not Even Close
by Nicky




I hate Jarod. I mean, I really, really hate him. But I can't for the life of me figure out why. There has to be reasons, right? Things that he does to trigger this reaction in me.

I guess I could start with those phone calls. All I want to know is this - why me? And why the middle of the night? They always come when I finally manage to fight off the nightmares long enough and drift into a dreamless stupor. But, I must admit, he never calls without a reason. That reason may seem stupid at first. Or just as a way to annoy me. But deep down, after all's been said and done, I can see that there's a method to his madness.

Which leads me to number two. Another reason why I hate Jarod. It's that 'after all's been said and done' that gets me. The little tidbits of information he feeds me during those phone calls are just to tease me. So many times I want to just say "Bite me, Jarod" and hang up the phone. That's the rational side of me talking during those times. I really should pay more attention to that side when in a semi-conscious state. Because after that rational side makes it's argument, there's this other side that starts to talk. Something inside me, some quiet voice I can barely hear most times except when I'm half awake. It'll convince me to listen to him and see where he's leading me. Unfortunately, I end up listening to that voice. And then I always regret that decision. Because at the end of whatever little scavenger hunt Jarod sends me on, I find myself in a worse position than when I started. The best word to describe that condition would be confused.
Jarod's idea of helping me discover my past entails him dangling a carrot in front of me and, like the good little horsie, I chomp at the bit. He then proceeds to lead me on a journey of discovery. A mission who's sole purpose is to shatter my very being. It destroys a little part of me, revealing lies that I built my life on. Each odyssey he sends me on breaks down more and more of the foundation of my life. And once that's gone, where does it leave me? Who am I when it's all said and done? Someone Jarod has twisted around so much that I don't know up from down anymore. Someone I don't like very much. So how can I be expected to like him? How can I not hate the person who's opened my eyes to who I really am, making me hate the person I see?

It's been three months since we last heard from him. And no matter where I look, I can't seem to find him. No clues. No phone calls. No games. But on the other hand, no early morning wake ups. No Jarod induced soul searches. No more of my life crumbling before my eyes. Basically, no reasons for me to hate him. I guess the trade off is worth it. Or at least that's what I'm trying to convince myself so that I won't wonder if he's okay. I refuse to worry about him. He's a big boy. He can take care of himself. Can't he? We really have no way of knowing where he is if he doesn't call and leave us some hint. I only came on this trip to keep up appearances. You know, to make the boys in the tower think we're hot on Jarod's trail.

Sighing heavily, I sink into the giant bed in my spacious suite and grab the remote control from the night stand. Another complaint to add to my list of things I hate about Jarod. All the seedy motels and roach traps he has lured me to. These days, I stay in style, refusing to be taken in by his childish pranks anymore. That is, if he ever tried to pull any anymore. Don't get me wrong. Don't think I actually miss his idiotic antics. Well, I don't miss them all. Some of them were kind of funny, I admit. The ones that remind me of when we were kids.

No use thinking of back then, I think with a sigh before turning my attention to the TV as I flip through the stations. Nothing's really on, but I keep flipping. Finally on the fourth cycle through the stations I stop on HBO. The channel directory says that Legends of the Fall is coming up next. For some reason I really love that movie. I think it probably goes back to one of my childhood fantasies. It's a movie about everything I used to dream of having. A home. Family. Love. And not just any love. A deeply spiritual, all consuming kind of love like Julia Ormond's character had for Brad Pitt's character. I would pretend I was living a happy life on a farm way out in the middle of nowhere. Far away from the reaches of the Centre. During the day, I'd help take care of the animals and stuff. And at night, Jarod would help me take care of the kids. That's right. Don't be so shocked. I said Jarod. He used to be in my dreams once upon a time. But once upon a time is right. It was so long ago. Kind of like a whole other fairy tale life. A life where I could be completely miserable and completely happy at the same time. Miserable because I was stuck at the Centre with a neglectful father. But it was bliss because Jarod was there. Well, I'm still at the Centre. And I'm still miserable. But with no dark haired, chocolate eyed boy, there's no happiness. Another sigh escapes me. Too much deep contemplation on times past, I guess.

I'm waiting now on this movie to go off before my movie comes on. I think it's almost over, though, so I shouldn't have long to wait. It's something called 10 Things I Hate About You. With a title like that, how bad could it be? Two minutes into viewing it, I have my answer. This movie's about a bunch of kids. Great, I groan. One kid isn't so bad looking, though. That long haired, bad boy. In fact, he's kind of cute. Young, but cute. I'm sure I could be his mother, though. I groan again, sinking even lower in the bed at that thought. Nevertheless, I focus on the baby stud. He's looking about as miserable as I feel right about now. It probably has something to do with that girl reading the poem about the different ways she hates him. I should probably take notes, I think with a smile. It would certainly give Jarod an earful the next time he called. If he ever calls again. I'm able to trap the sigh waiting at the edge of my lips this time.

"I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair," the girl on the movie starts.

Okay, so I probably don't need to add those to my list. Jarod actually has a nice, soothing voice. If I wasn't so angry at him for waking me up, I could listen to it all day. It's deep and teasing with a sexy kind of tremble to it.
"I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare."

I really hope she doesn't get an A on this homework assignment, because this is getting lame. But, I must admit. It does rhyme. Maybe that's all that matters in a fictitional high school english class.

"I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie."

Now we're getting to some valid points. Not that Jarod's always right. But he is sometimes. Okay, most of the times he is. And I really hate that. But I'd never give him the satisfaction of letting him know.

"I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry." The girl on the movie pauses as her tears start to overwhelm her.

This time I can't stop the sigh. Tears are no stranger to me. No matter what I do, no matter how strong I try to be, Jarod knows which emotional strings to pull. He knows where I'm vulnerable. Where I'm weak. That is definitely something I hate about him. Suddenly this poem isn't so stupid anymore.

"I hate it when you're not around and the fact that you didn't call.
But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all." The girl on the movie finishes and runs off in tears.

My own tears are freely flowing down my face now. And I'm powerless to stop them. The words sink in and I finally realize so many things I never understood before. I'm so into the movie at this point that I don't hear the phone ringing. The incessant chirping finally reaches my ear and I have to scramble over to the desk to retrieve my cell phone.

"What," I say softly, all of the usual venom gone from my voice.

"Miss me?" a voice on the other end says with a grin in his voice that I could practically see.

"Jarod," I say simply. "It's been a long time."

"Yeah," he sighs. "What have you been doing to keep yourself busy, Miss Parker?"

"Trying to figure out what it is that I hate about you," I tell him and hear a slight gasp. I've never vocalized any kinds of feelings for him before. I think he was surprised to hear 'hate' among them.

"You really . . . hate . . . me?" His voice catches on the word 'hate' and he sounded hurt and unsure of himself. "Why? Now that you've had plenty of time to think about it, have you found the answer?"

'Can't you see it, Jarod? I don't hate you! That's the problem!' I want to scream. But I can't seem to make my mouth say the words that my heart was feeling. I couldn't tell him how miserable I was without him. That what I really hated was that he wasn't with me like when we were kids. And that I hate it that he hasn't called me in three months. But what I really couldn't tell him was that what I really, really hated was that, no matter what, I couldn't make myself hate him. I hated that what I felt for Jarod was anything BUT hate. Far from it, in fact.

So how do I answer his question? How do I answer mine? Do I hate him? Do I hate Jarod?

"Not even close, Jarod," I whisper, answering both my and his question. Not even a little bit. Not even at all. So where does that leave me? Where does it leave us?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything in this story, really. The characters aren't mine. I'm just borrowing them.


Ten Things: No Prize For Close
by Nicky




I don't understand it. She hates me. Why does she hate me? I mean, I know I haven't exactly made her life easier these past few years, but she brought all of that on herself. Okay, so some of the times I'll admit that I was having a little fun at her expense. But who could resist making her a victim in a human roach motel? That was funny. One of my better pranks in my opinion. I guess she sees them more as annoyances than pranks. But honestly, I don't mean anything by them.

And I could see how the phone calls might irritate her a bit. But I'm not much of a sleeper. The first few times I called her in the middle of the night, I didn't think much of it. I just figured I was up, so why not call. After a while, I found that the calls that time of night catch her off her guard. I'll have to admit, she's good. Quick and sharp. If she only knew how close to me she had gotten during the course of our chase. Calling her that time a night became my only advantage. Otherwise, she probably would have caught me by now. She's pretty much my equal. Not that I'd ever tell her that.

And I know that she gets pissed when I drop her little clues about her past. But I couldn't just come out and tell her some of that stuff. That's the kind of stuff that she'd only believe it if she saw it with her own eyes. So I make her work for the answers. Too many people have lied to her for her to trust anyone. Even me. Even though she used to trust me with everything - her life, her happiness, her heart. But those times are long gone, I think with a sigh.

I do that a lot these days. Think back and wonder what ever happened to that little girl who was my whole world. I know that sounds kind of sappy, but it's true. You think I woke up every day just to do SIMs? Miss Parker was the only reason I was able to do them. She was the thing that kept me going from day to day.

I still remember the first day I ever saw her. I was sitting in one of the labs with a bunch of electrodes stuck to my head. I must have looked like an idiot. I'm surprised she didn't laugh at me. But she didn't laugh. She came up to me and we touched hands. Well, not really. There was a glass up between us, but that was merely a physical boundary. We quickly learned how to surmount those. We touched, excuse the cliche, but it's the only way I can explain it, on a deeper level. You see, the first thing I noticed about her were her eyes. Okay, so it was the first thing I noticed after I noticed she was a girl (and a very pretty girl, at that). When we looked at each other, I could actually see straight through to her soul. It was so open and beautiful. And it was mine for the taking. And just like that, she had stolen my heart.

We soon learned that the only way we could be together was on that 'spiritual level'. Her father didn't like how attached we were to each other. They piled on more work for me to do. But it didn't matter. It was all so easy for me anyway. And plus with Miss Parker for a motivation, there wasn't anything I wouldn't do, just so I could get done and go find her. We couldn't contact each other, but somehow we could always find each other. Like I said, that spiritual connection. It was strong. Even when her father sent her away, we were still connected. Perhaps that's why our separation hurt me so badly. Because it felt like they had literally removed a piece of my heart when they sent her away.

When she came back, she was so different. Shut off. Closed up. Her eyes no longer the windows to her soul (I know. Another tired cliche, but accurate in this case none the less). It was like, she didn't have a soul anymore. And I think that's true because they killed it. And by doing that, they killed my Miss Parker. They killed the little girl I would sit and talk to for hours. They killed the girl who stole my heart with one kiss. The girl who was my life. I really had no reason to stay after that. Without her to distract me, I started to pay more attention to the SIMs. And when I realized what I was doing, what I was being used for, I decided that enough was enough. So I left.

I should have gone further away. I should have disappeared completely. But I couldn't. I couldn't leave her. She was still a part of me. And I wanted to believe that deep down inside, she still remembered our connection. I wanted to believe that she still remembered the dreams we had. The plans we made. All the promises to be together forever.

She believed so many of their lies for so long. All I ever tried to do was help her see the truth. A truth that she doesn't want to see because it hurts. And now, she hates me for hurting her. I hate myself for hurting her. Some of the truths we've found were just so awful. So I can understand the hostility she directs towards me. I'm tearing her down with these truths. Tearing her world apart. I'm trying to show her that everything she believes in is just a lie. But in essence, I'm destroying the very foundation of her life. No wonder she hates me.

I know that she can't sleep well. The nightmares still haunt her. The same ones she had when we were kids. Some days she'd come to me, so tired from being up all night, and fall straight asleep in my arms. That was the only time she could get rest. I imagine it's still the same for her. Sleep is a rare and valuable commodity for her. So what do I do? I call her in the middle of the night and wake her up. I tell her it's because I have a clue about her past. But I do it because I miss the sound of her voice. I miss that connection with her. And when she's half asleep, she's vulnerable enough for me to get a glimpse of that person she used to be. How selfish is that? And again I realize how that it's no wonder she hates me.

Tonight was the first time I'd called in about three months. And in that time, she figured out that she hates me. And now that I've thought about it, it's not hard to see why. Painfully obvious, in fact. I thought we were finally close to the truth, but apparently close doesn't count. There's no prize for coming close. Finding the truth isn't helping her. Trying to help her is only hurting her. And I won't do it anymore. It's finally time. Time for me to stop being so selfish and do what she wants. No, not go back to the Centre. I don't think that's what she really wants from me. She wants a normal life. And she feels the only way to get that life is to take me in so that she can be free. But there is another way. There's always been another way. I just hope I can do it. I hope I can find the strength. Because it may have taken her these past three months to realize why she hated me, but it only took me a three minute phone call to realize something just as powerful - that I can't live without her. But to end her pain, I'm going to have to. So tell me something. How do you live without your heart?

Disclaimer - Characters not mine. Just using them for a minute. They'll be returned as good as new when I'm done.


Ten Things: Let Me Tell You Why
by Nicky

* * * * * * * * * *

I should have been expecting it. I really should have. After the phone call, I should have known he wouldn't be able to leave it alone. *I* couldn't leave it alone. So how could I expect him to? He wanted to know why I hated him. Over and over in my mind, I keep on hearing the hurt in his voice. And I keep on replaying the moment when I finally admitted to myself that what I feel for Jarod has pretty much nothing to do with hate. It was a wonder I was able to refrain from telling him. I guess it was easier when we were merely speaking, our conversation separated by only Jarod knows how many miles. But this is too much. How in the world am I going to be able to resist him now?

* * * * * * * * * *

She looks surprised for a minute. She wasn't expecting me. But she really should know better by now. I asked her a question on the phone the other day. Why does she hate me? She never really answered. I'm here for my answer. And then, I'll give her what she wants and leave her alone. No matter how hard that will be for me, she deserves a semi peaceful life. One without my annoyances and aggravation. I can't imagine my life without her. I don't even want to think of it right now. But if that's what she wants, that's the least I can do for her. That's actually the real reason I came over tonight. To say good-bye. To see her one last time.
* * * * * * * * * *

"What are you doing here?" I ask him. I try to maintain my edge. Maybe I'll be able to get him out of here without any damage to my usually intact icy exterior. Underneath, something's been churning since I last spoke with him, slowly melting away at my facade. If he stays too long . . .

"We've been playing this game for how long, Miss Parker?" he asks quietly. He stares at me with that wounded puppy dog look and I feel my body temperature rise even higher. Jarod has got to go and he's got to go now. That look is killing me.

"Jarod, you're the one playing games tonight," I sigh in faux exasperation. "Why don't you just tell me what you want and then leave. I'm exhausted and unless you plan on coming peacefully to the Centre with me, I'm not in the mood for whatever trouble it would cause me tonight. Just say what you want and then go." Okay, that was a bit rude, but I hope he got the message.

"Okay," he says, nodding his head. "You told me you hated me. I just want to know why. And then you won't have to worry about me causing you trouble again. Not tonight. Not ever," he adds with a whisper.

"What do you mean?" I hear myself ask him before I can even think about the words coming out of my mouth. My curiosity gets the better of me. I shouldn't be falling for this, but something tells me this is far from a game for him. Something in his eyes is different. He seems resolved about something. I don't know what it is, but I don't think I'm going to like it.
"Hate is a horrible emotion. If you're feeling that, then I know it's eating away at you and hurting you. I don't want that. I don't want you to hate me. I'm going so that you can't hate me anymore. I'm leaving so that I can't hurt you anymore."

Oh. Once again, Jarod's over exuberant sense of justice rears its ugly head. He's trying to save me. I just look at him, unsure of what to say at this moment.

* * * * * * * * * *

She kind of just looks at me for a minute, her mouth hanging open in a silent 'oh'.
"You're leaving?" she finally says. "For good? This is good-
bye?"

I nod. I'm afraid if I try to speak now, I'll just start blubbering and crying like a big baby. I never thought this day would come. The last day I'd ever see her. I tried to prepare for it. I tried to sim the direction the conversation would go. But not even that prepared me for the heartache of actually having to walk away from the only woman I've ever loved. Yes, that's right. Love. I love her. I always have. And I'm sure I always will.

"Just because of a phone conversation we had a few days ago?" she asks incredulously.
"Because you hate me, Miss Parker," I try to clarify for her. "Because that hate is hurting you. I can't stand that. I just want to know why. And then I'll go."

"Jarod," she sighs, rolling her eyes.

* * * * * * * * * *

Leave it to a genius to take a simple phone conversation and make things so complicated. I honestly don't see how it was any different from any other phone conversation that we've had in the past. I mean, other than me coming to the earth shattering conclusion that I may like him a little more than I've been letting on. But am I making a federal case about it? No. I'm keeping it to myself and dealing with it on my own. Why couldn't he have done the same? Why can't he see that leaving me will hurt me more than anything?
"Why?" he asks, his eyes pleading with me. Oh no. We're back to this again. I don't know which is worse, this 'hate' question or his 'I'm leaving' solution.

"Jarod," I say again. I think I'm actually whining. Can't he tell that I don't want to have this conversation?

"I just need to know. Why do you hate me?"

"Jarod, over the years, so much has gone on between us," I start. He's not going to let this go. So I'm just going to tell him and hope for the best. "For one thing, we're enemies. I chase you every day for a living. And you've led me down some paths I'd just as soon not go."

"We didn't used to be enemies," he pouts. "They made us. And I'm not just running from you every day. I'm running for answers for us. Those paths I lead you on are usually for your benefit."

"All the pranks, tricks, traps . . . do I need to go on?" I ask him, my eyebrow highly arched. He may have invalidated my last point, but I know I was justified this time.

"Consider it payback," he says with a small grin. "I think I learned most of those tricks from you when we were kids, Miss Parker."

"Oh," I blush. He's right. I admit to being a bit devilish back then. I should have figured that even if I didn't remember all the pranks I pulled, he would.

"Well, the phone calls," I throw out. "You always wake me up in the middle of the night. You know I hate that."

"I figured if you really didn't want to talk to me, then you wouldn't answer," he says sheepishly.

"Jarod!" I yell in frustration. "Why are you really here? Do you really want my reasons? Because it seems to me that you're just trying to refute them!"

"Miss Parker . . . " he tries to calm me down, but I don't even let him say anything else.

"No, Jarod. You want to know what I hated about you, and I told you. You just don't want to hear it. Now, get out, like you said you would. Just go. You seem to be good at that. I don't know why it's so hard for you to do it now. This is nothing new for you. Just turn around and leave me like you did all those years ago." My hand flies to my mouth and I see his eyes pop open so wide it was almost comical. I would have laughed if I hadn't managed to just completely humiliate myself.

"What did you just say?" he asks me when he can find his voice again. It's low and shaky. I'm sure mine would sound the same if I could actually speak right now. I squeeze my eyes shut, praying frantically for a hole or something to open up right now and swallow me up to another place and time. But seeing how this isn't a science fiction movie, my floor remains intact. I then hope that he just leaves, just walks out the door and pretends I never said anything. No such luck on that happening either.

"Miss Parker, look at me," he pleads. I feel his hand on my chin, tilting my head up. My eyes fall open, seemingly on their own, and I find myself staring into the rawest set of emotions I've ever seen in my life. I jump willingly into them, no longer caring about the distance I was trying to maintain.

* * * * * * * * * *

"I never left you, Miss Parker," I say in barely a whisper. She's so beautiful, she takes my breath away. Literally. I've never seen her so open and vulnerable. Her eyes were these huge, blue pools that offered me a glance straight into her soul. I could drown happily in those eyes, in her. I caress her cheek with my hand and she leans into the touch.

"Miss Parker, when your father sent you away to school, I waited everyday for you to return. But when you finally came back, it was as if you never knew me. You were so different. You looked at me with such contempt and disgust. I had to get away. But I wasn't trying to get away from you."

"But you were gone all the same," she snaps. She pulls out of my embrace and looks up at me with anger flashing in her eyes once again. "You left me there all alone. I hated that."

She starts pacing as the words flow effortlessly from her lips now. I just stand in silence, too afraid to do anything else. She was really, really mad this time.

"I hated that I was taken from a job I loved to chase your sorry butt all over creation. I hated that my reward was the one thing I wanted most in this world - my father's approval. But that kept on slipping through my fingers each time you got away. Everything was riding on me finding you, Jarod. My life, my happiness, my freedom. But to you it was all a joke. My life was just a joke to you!" she screams.

"That wasn't my intention," I swear to her. "I was just trying to find the truth. And I wanted to help lead you there as well."

"Help me?" she laughs. But something tells me she didn't find anything funny. It was a scary kind of cackle, actually. "Help me what? Help me ruin all my shoes chasing you around the country? Help me agonize so much that I ate a hole in my stomach? Help me learn to distrust my own family? Is that the kind of help you were trying to give me Jarod? Is it?"

I cringe at the impact her words make. I have ruined her life. I don't deny that. It's a wonder I'm still alive. She should have killed me a long time ago.

"Yes, I should have," she growls. I look up and realize stupidly that I've been mumbling my thoughts outloud.

"I'm sorry," I apologize. "I don't know what else I can say. I've made your life miserable. It's no wonder you hate me."

"That's just it, Jarod. Don't you get it?" she whispers. I can see tears glistening in her eyes and her voice tone gets much softer. "That's the most frustrating part of it all. That's the part I really hate. More than I hate you disappearing for months at a time. More than I hate how you make me worry when I don't hear from you. Or how lonely I feel after you hang up the phone after one of your midnight calls. The part I hate more than I hate the way that little mark on your cheek punctuates your smile or how kissable your lips look when you smirk at me."
She lifts her hand to gently stroke her fingers across my lips to emphasize her point. I just stand there looking like an idiot more than likely. I'm hearing her say hate. But I see something else entirely in her eyes. I look at her, anticipating her next words.

"What I hate about you, Jarod, is that I don't hate you at all," she says finally.

"Not even close," I mutter with a smile. Her words on the phone the other night finally make sense.

"Not even close," she smiles in return.

"So, if you don't hate me," I say, taking a step closer to her. "Then how do you feel about me?" I take another step until I'm standing just in front of her. The next move would have to be hers.

"Maybe this can answer your question," she says, a mischievous gleam in her eyes.
I open my mouth, but before I can even ask her what she's talking about, I feel her lips against mine. They are gentle and probing all at the same time. Lush, soft, and succulent lips that move expertly across my own. A yielding, yet insistent tongue probing into all the dark recesses of my mouth and dancing across my lips. It's like she's trying to devour me whole. The kiss seems to last for an eternity until the need for air only slightly supercedes my thirst for her.

"Does that answer your question?" she pants after pulling away. All I can do is nod my head like one of those stupid bobble head statues you see in someone's car. After a kiss like that, my grasp on the english language is a bit tentative at best. There's only one thing I want to do with my mouth right now and talking ain't it.

I reach for her again and she comes eagerly into my arms, meeting me again for another searing kiss. This time, I'm able be more of an active participant. And I do a pretty good job, I think. She actually swooned. Can you believe that? I made Miss Parker all weak in the knees over me.

* * * * * * * * * *

I can't believe this is happening. And I can't believe that I cannot feel a bone in my body. This man sure can kiss. I struggle to maintain a grasp on reality. We can't go on like this. Don't get me wrong. I'd love for it to go on forever. But we can't take this any further. Not tonight, anyway. It would be a mistake tonight.

"Jarod," I sigh, a dreamy smile pasted on my face. I pull away from him and see the smug grin on his face. After a kiss like that, he certainly deserves it. I smile back at him and try to regain at least a little bit of control of this situation. "I guess I got my point across."

"And then some," he chuckles, pulling me into a hug. I could hear his laughter echoing inside his chest. "You answered my question perfectly."

"Good," I sigh, nuzzling my nose into the crook of his neck. He smells so good. I can't resist taking in a deep breath of his scent. It's a mixture of his cologne and the leather from his jacket. Eau de Jarod is what I'll call it. Too bad I can't bottle it. I'd make a fortune. "Because I'd hate for you to leave without knowing how I felt."

"Leave? Who's leaving? Now that I know you don't hate me, I'm not going anywhere, Miss Parker. I'm afraid you're stuck with me."

"I think I can handle that," I smile. I can think of much worse things than spending the rest of my life with this man. My only regret is that we didn't do this sooner. We've wasted so much time. So much of our life is gone. We'll just have to make the most of the rest of it. I pull him closer to me and go to kiss him again, when he stops me just as our lips brush past each other.

"Oh, and Miss Parker?"

"What?" I groan somewhat impatiently. I was desperate for another taste of him.

"I love you, too." He smiles tenderly at me and completes the connection, fully capturing my lips with his own and giving me the sweetest kiss seasoned by the sweetest of words.

The end.