Excerpt:

Nate took a step back, and I could not help but feel an overwhelming insignificance. A reminder of our vast physical gap. If I had considered myself a nobody in a world full of somebodies, comparing me to him only assured my status as a big-fat-zero. Then again--and I gave myself some credit by allowing this thought to enter my mind--he seemed to be somewhat interested in me. Didn’t he?

A subdued breeze sent leaves tumbling across the graveyard; the lucky ones attached themselves to his jeans, while others merely rocketed and plunged tenderly around him. And he released my hand though I had been the one holding it fast.

“Don’t leave,” I begged. The masochist in me loved every second of this torture.

“You dropped your scarf,” he said.

Nate bent down to grab what looked like a red snake on the green grass. “You ask me not to leave you,” he said, “but have you considered...?” With his hand on his head as he paused, he looked like he could physically massage his brain into giving him the right words. Then, he lowered his perfect finger onto his perfect lips as if to lure the words out of them with a simple,

“Come here.” He said, “I am the one who should ask you to stay.” And he looked at me.

I should have put on a diaper before leaving the house; I was on the verge of messing myself. About to faint and puke at the same time. Was he saying those words, or was I imagining them?

“I, no...” Would it be ridiculous to ask him to pinch me or slap me. Better ask him to kiss me, instead.

He neared my scarf to his face, closed his eyes, and inhaled. With his lids closed and the sun hitting him just so, he looked like the angel in my dreams. I imagined him like this. This close to me. This beautiful. Until now, all I’d had was the hope of something amazing. And now, amazing stared at me with his fire-eyes as he walked toward me with my scarf in his hands, extended forward as though it were an offering of peace.

He placed the scarf around my neck. And when I looked up to him, close to me as he was, my knees almost gave out.

“Nate,” I whispered. I cleared my throat to try to mask that ridiculous quiver in my voice.

“Yes?” he asked. Oh, he knew his effect on me. That little smirk. That little beautiful smile between those rose lips.

His hands played with my scarf for just a second before his touch melted on my face as hot as the sun itself, yet a wave of cold hit my face. His breath, it was so cold, and it caressed me with each breath he took. But no matter how used I was getting to his closeness, nothing could have prepared me for the way I felt when his rockstar lips rushed into mine. I could have sworn that this kiss had its own guitar solo playing in the background.

I moaned when his lips separated from mine. And I stared into his eyes as if the meaning of life were hidden there, the code to humankind’s existence. The cemetery began to spin as if a rollercoaster operator had pressed the Go button. His hands were on my face--his hot, blistering hands. They were the only thing steadying me. With his nose on my nose, he smiled a little. My body was shaking, my breath uneven. Oh, he knew what he was doing.

And, as though my arms were entities of their own, they suddenly wrapped around his neck. I raised my body on its tippy toes and leaned forward. This time, he moaned. He was moaning for me.

Victor who? First kiss what?

This was it. The kiss to judge all other kisses upon. His cold tongue danced a mouth-watering ballet, while I gasped for air during the interludes. The guitar solo in its crescendo.

It was love at first sight, second sight, third sight, and forever sight. A storm of love erupting amid the white somnambulistic statues weighing down graves. A volcano of crazy-hot lava that sizzled on my skin with each touch and each kiss.