Well then, those folks are judgmental assholes,” Liv spat. “You’re more than a fucking label, Z. You’re an amazing chef, a mediocre bassist, and you’ve got this dorky way of scratching the back of your head whenever you talk about anything personal, which isn’t often, but holy hell is it cute. I know you way better than any of those folks casting stones do, and I adore everything you are, Zane Parata.

She placed down her martini glass and extended her hand. “My name’s Kelsey. I own The Water’s Edge up the street. Hope we can take your mind off the raincloud hovering over your head, Eeyore.

She was the type who chased, who danced into your life like a spring storm, and left you battered and quaking in the wake.

They’d reached the point of no return, and she wanted to throw herself into the fire until the flames melted away the years of ice that claimed her.

Her lips against his, the sun soaking into their skin, and the sweet, fragrant breezes that wafted through this isolated picnic area was nothing short of perfection.

It was just the golden sunlight, ink-stain asphalt and the woman he’d always wished was his.

Better to leave with good memories than have the last ones be the embarrassing, smoking ruin of what once had been a fantastic friendship.

Because one look into his eyes, and she was drowning in what existed there and didn’t want to surface.

She made him yearn for a future his kind could never have, and a connection he sure as hell didn’t deserve.