“Madison,” Ky says from above me.

“Yeah?”

He laughs. “No. Madison. The name. You should call it Madison.”

“Perfect,” Debbie says. “It suits. Beautiful name for a beautiful flower, to match the beautiful girl.”

Ky chuckles. “Wow, Debbie. You’re doing all the hard work for my.”

Me? I can’t seem to do anything. There’s an ache in my chest that’s anchored its way to my stomach—holding my response captive.

Why? Why was it so easy for him to see through me? To feel every part of me? To know how to take my pain and my fears and make them disappear. Why was it so easy to make me fall for him?

“Madison?” he asks, turning me to him. “Are you crying?”

I didn’t realize I was. “Why would you do that, Ky?”

“Because you don’t deserve to live in a world without color.”

12

KY

“SO I KIND of gave her flowers,” I tell Doctor Aroma.

“Oh yeah?” she says through a smile. “And how did she react?”

“She smiled.”

“That’s a good outcome.”

“We haven’t picked it up yet. It’s still at the shop getting monitored.”

Her eyebrows lift. “So I take it they’re not just standard flowers. What are they?”

“Madisons.”

“Like her name?” she asks.

“Yep.”

“And you—you’re smiling, too.”

I shrug. “I guess I like making her happy.”

“Just her?”

“What do you mean?”

She leans forward a little. “You just seem like the kind of guy that likes to please people. Are you a people pleaser, Ky?”

I shrug again, then laugh. “She makes me want to please myself.”

She laughs with me, understanding my hidden meaning. “She not pleasing you in that way?”

“Time’s up.”

***

We’ve just finished checking on the Madison and are a block away from our building when she stops in front of a dollar store. “What is this place?” she asks.

“Seriously?”

She nods

“It’s just a shop full of cheap junk.”

“That sounds fun.” Before I know it, she has my arm in a death grip and is dragging me into the store.

We spend a good ten minutes messing around with all the crap they have inside. She tries on about fifty different pairs of sunglasses before choosing a bright yellow one. “For friendship,” she says, and I laugh at how goofy they look on her. At some point, we get separated. I find her staring at a bunch of picture frames. Her finger traces each one, inspecting them.

I stand next to her. “You want to get one?”

“I don’t know which one.”

She lifts one off the rack and looks intently at it. It’s chrome with the word ‘Love’ printed on the bottom. But she doesn’t seem to be looking at the frame; she’s looking at the picture inside it.

“You know you’re meant to change it, right? Or are you into the dude in the picture?” I ask, only half joking.

She doesn’t respond. It’s as if she hasn’t even heard me. “Look at them,” she says quietly.

I look down at the couple in the picture. They’re standing in front of a fountain, facing each other. The girl has her arms around the guy’s neck; his hands are around her waist, and they’re just staring at each other, smiling. “Can you imagine what that would feel like?” she asks.

My heart tightens at the sincere sadness of her tone. “What do you mean?” I ask, my eyes on her.

Again, she ignores me.

I press on. “To be in love?”

She shakes her head. “No. Not just love...but to be so open about it. To love so freely...like it doesn’t matter if anyone’s watching.”

Tears start filling her eyes.

“Madison,” I whisper, and she looks up at me. I hold the side of her face, my eyes on hers. I plead with her to give me something...anything...so that maybe I can understand what the hell she’s talking about.

“Ky...” She looks like she wants to say more, but she doesn’t.

And I can’t.

So I do the only thing I can do. I lean down, press my lips to hers, and I kiss her. She gasps, taking my breath with her. And after a second, her lips move. Her free hand grips my shirt as I bring her in closer. Her breath catches when our tongues meet, sliding agonizingly slowly against each other. I hesitate, my heart pounding painfully against my chest.

I’m nervous.

And I’m so afraid of everything this kiss makes me feel.

Because it’s more than just a kiss.

It’s a sense of hope, and reason, and promise.

She quickly steps back, as if suddenly realizing where we are and what we’re doing.

I finally allow myself to breathe and open my eyes. She’s watching me; her chest heaving with each breath.

“Shit.” It’s all I can get out—the only word that forms in my head.

“I think I’m going to buy this one,” she says, reaching up and grabbing another frame. “And this one.” She refuses to look at me as she makes her way to the counter. After a few seconds, I finally switch back to reality, just in time to get to the counter and pay for the two frames and her new sunglasses.

***

I step into her apartment when she opens the door, not bothering to wait for an invitation. She doesn’t seem to mind. She goes straight to the couch and pulls out the frames from the bag and sets them on the coffee table in front of her. I sit next to her, not knowing what else to do. She didn’t speak much on the walk home, and I didn’t want to push her. Truth is; I’m still thinking about that kiss. But watching her now, it’s clear she’s still thinking about that damn picture. She’s staring at it intently; her brows creased. “How do you think they met?”