I waited patiently as he took everything out of the cooler and laid it around us. He’d made sandwiches, had a container of macaroni salad, and a bowl of grapes. Nothing fancy, but it was perfect. At least I’d have a good last memory of him when things ended between us.

“What did you think about the song?” he asked while handing me some food.

“I thought it was sad, and that it meant you’re breaking up with me.”

“How exactly did you get that from the song?”

“It talked about kissing each other before saying goodbye. That he’d always think about her and not forget the time they had together. I looked up the lyrics, Axel. That’s very much a break-up song.”

He placed his hand over mine and waited to speak until he knew he had my full attention. “Songs mean different things to different people. When I listened to that song last night, I heard something else. I heard a guy that was heartbroken because his girl wouldn’t open up to him. He begs her to talk, to tell him what she’s feeling. He sees something going on inside her, but he can’t help because she won’t let him. I heard a man that wanted his girl to give him something, a whisper or a sigh. And if she decided that it was the end, all he asked for was a kiss. He just wants her to be okay.”

“You got all that from a song?”

He smiled and ran his thumb over my cheek. “I did.”

“There were…um, other lyrics in there.”

His hand immediately dropped and it made me look away. “Don’t think too much about that, Bree. He loved her, so he told her so. I’m sure the song wouldn’t have been as great if he’d said he only cared about her.”

“So you don’t…?”

“I’m not ready for that yet. I still have a lot to work out in my head before I can answer that question.” He knew which lyric I referred to, the one about loving her. And I’m glad because that saved me from having to say them out loud.

“I’m okay with that. Because I’m not ready, either.”

We exchanged an understanding glance before eating our lunch in silence. It wasn’t an awkward silence or one filled with tension. It was calm and easy, just like we always were when we were together.

For dessert, Axel pulled out a small chocolate cake.

“What’s this for?”

Not even bothering to slice it, he took the top off and handed me a fork. “It’s kind of a collaborative celebration. Valentine’s Day and your birthday. I missed both, and I wanted to make up for it. What better time to do that than now, on our two-week whatever you wanna call it.”

“Anniversary?” I hoped he couldn’t hear the concern in my tone.

“No. That’s ridiculous. We’re not in middle school. I just thought that since you have such a fear over this insane thought about some two-week curse—which is completely made up by the way—I’d show you how wrong you are.”

“Are you some kind of romantic at heart?” I asked teasingly.

“I call myself passionate. When I care about something, I’m all in. Like with school, I’ve always been obsessed with history. I used to want to pursue a career in politics, but quickly decided against that once I was old enough to understand the corruption of it all.” He dipped his fork into the cake, sliced off a piece, and offered it to me first.

“I’d think that would make you want it more. I mean, doesn’t this country need more positive and honest leaders?” I asked after swallowing the bite with a soft moan.

He dropped his head for a moment, and I thought it had to do with what I’d said, but I quickly realized by the flush in his cheeks that it wasn’t. Apparently, I had a bigger effect on him than I realized. That, in turn, made my cheeks flush in embarrassment for the moan that I’d allowed to pass through my lips.

“In theory, that makes sense,” he said, once he regained his composure. “Except I’m sure a lot of the corrupted politicians started out honest. Look at it this way…you have to spend money if you expect to run in a large campaign. To spend that money, you have to make it—donations. Well, corrupted individuals that want the law in their favor will back you, and at some point, they’ll want to cash in the IOU. I don’t want any part of that. So I decided to teach our youth instead. I hate how this generation doesn’t pay any attention to the news. They have no idea what is going on in the world around them…hell, they don’t even know what’s going on in their own back yard. They halfway hear things and then take it for face value. Sarah Palin for instance. I won’t get into my opinion of her, because that could take all day. But I’m sure you’ve heard the rumor about how she said she could see Russia from her house. A lot of people honestly believe she said that. But in truth, Tina Fey said that during a skit for Saturday Night Live where she was impersonating Palin. I just want the youth to pay attention more instead of believing hearsay. And not just regarding politics, either. And that’s just one example out of way too many.”

“My generation thanks you,” I said with a smirk.

“Any thought about what you want to do after school?”

I shrugged, wondering how to explain my goals. “Well, there is something I’ve always wanted to do, but I don’t know if I’ll like it since I’ve never been given the opportunity to try. And my mom wants me to be a lawyer. But honestly, I have zero desire to do that.”

“Your mom has no say so in what you do for the rest of your life. She’s not paying for your school, so if you don’t follow in her footsteps, what’s she going to do about it? And what is it that you want to do?”

I shoved another bite of cake in my mouth to give me time to answer. “She can’t do anything, and she knows it. It’s why I’ve made no effort to prepare for a law degree, which is just another reason for her to hate me. But I’m fearful of what to do, because I’ve always wanted to design furniture. I know, it sounds silly, but every time I look at a desk or coffee table, I can’t help but picture how I would’ve made it differently. I come up with all kinds of diverse styles of beds, and wish I could just make my own.”

“That’s not silly, Bree. And why does that scare you?”

“Who wants to design furniture? I’ve never heard one person say, ‘I want to design furniture when I grow up.’”

“Lots of people. You’d be surprised. I mean, realistically, there has to be people that say that, otherwise we’d have no furniture. But it wouldn’t matter if no one wanted to do it. The only thing that counts is that you want to. You’ve got to stop worrying about what other people will think and just go for it.”

I licked my lips and watched his mouth as he swallowed, the thought of kissing him crossing my mind for like the millionth time.

March came and brought with it warmer weather. Weekends were spent outside amongst the trees. Sometimes we ate lunch on a blanket, other times we just sat and talked. Things with Axel were so easy. I felt comfortable telling him anything, and it seemed as though the feeling was mutual. He told me all about his parents and sister, and stories of when they were younger. He had the best family, and it made me yearn to have that for myself someday. It also made me realize how drastically different my childhood had been compared to his.

I woke up every morning to a text message, letting me know that I’d been his first thought of the day. After that initial lunch date in the woods, I’d stopped worrying about us and the nonexistent, two-week curse. He made sure I knew that we were okay. Better than okay. He didn’t even have to say anything. I could just feel it being around him. The electricity sparked when we were near one another. Even apart, the current continued to flicker in my chest, lighting up my world brighter than it’d ever been before. It burned so bright that, sometimes, we found it difficult to keep our hands to ourselves. But we’d made a pact with one another, and we wanted to take it seriously, so we stuck to the rules, never going beyond holding hands.