"It's not so much the name as it is the expectations that come with it. Jane Austen, child of insanely intense romance gurus, destined to fall in love and live happily ever after, staring blindly into her husbands eyes every morning." He started to speak, but I had to finish with, "I'm not cynical."

"I feel the same actually."

"What?"

"There's too much emotionalism and sensationalism expected in relationships, so it sets a lot of people up for not having their happily ever after. Maybe for you, it's not worth it to try. I sometimes wonder that about myself.”

"I didn't say that." Did I? "I'm not anti-love."

He raised his eyebrows.

"I'm really not. If it happens, it happens, but I don't like this pressure girls are given from the age of two to dress up like princesses and pine over a prince, only to grow up and date way too many guys or get depressed because they don't have a boyfriend. Life shouldn't revolve around romantic love. There are other kinds of love in life, but when you're name is freaking Jane Austen it becomes a joke, really. A lifelong joke that drives me nuts."

"Have anything positive to say on the matter?" He nudged me again, this time careful to hit my arm instead. "I'm kidding. I completely understand."

"No you don't."

"Sure I do. You think I've watched my parents fall apart only to walk away looking for the first girl I found?" He took his hands out of his pockets and his arm touched mine again. I didn't want to notice, but it took all I had to stop noticing. "There's a reason I'm not flirting with you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're obviously aware of your looks, or at least the several blokes who have been staring at you today, but you're also intelligent and unique. I can't say I've ever met a girl like you before."

"You're pretty interesting yourself."

We reached a nice block of houses with flowers and vines pouring from window planters. The sun painted the bricks a golden hue, as though it were already nearing sunset, but it couldn't had been that late already, could it?

He stopped walking and held my arm, securing us in a band of light that warmed his fair skin with a hazel glow. Gazing down, I focused on the freckles dotting his hands. I couldn't look into his eyes. One, I feared he'd try to kiss me. And two, I worried I wouldn't stop him. Then that would lead to three, four, five, and so on of consequences I did not want right now.

Precautions. Not aversions.

He stepped back and stuffed his hands into his pockets again. Slightly relieved in a disappointment-tainted way, I finally allowed my eyes to settle on his. He stood completely still. Not even a hint of a smile toyed with his lips. Just ... stood there. Staring. At me.

If I stopped staring, I'd seem shy. And shy would seem interested. So I continued to stare without staring, if that makes sense. Instead of staring into him, like I assumed a lover would do, I stared through him like a laser beaming passing through his eyes, in and out of his skull, and back out into the city street behind him. Yes, that worked. That erased any hint of interest. At least I thought so, until he stepped forward, hands still in his pockets, and said in a hushed voice, "I hope you don't mind. I only wanted to take a picture."

A picture without a camera. How clever. A picture with his mind.

His declaration splashed watercolors on the blank canvas I worked hard to maintain. Blank. I wanted blank. Now, I stared at my feet as the colors swished and curled around me, dying my tidy little world with its vibrant fever and pulling me into something unexplainable, something I couldn't control, something I didn't want as much as I wanted it.

He continued walking. It took me a second to gather the pieces of myself and catch up with him. I looked over my shoulder, back at the exact place on the sidewalk that he stopped me. The colors were already fading. Then a car sped by and the moment we had was lost in a cloud of exhaust. Lost forever.

The picture was only left in our minds.

Had I really gone the entire afternoon without checking my phone even once? I shot everyone a quick I’m sorry, I’m alive text as the sun dropped behind the buildings, making its way toward the other side of the world. The side Donovan was still traveling to. I hoped everything would go well for him, but somehow doubted it. Online dating never seemed to work out the way it should. At least not in any cases I'd seen first hand. Although there was Molly, Autumn's older sister. Three years out of high school and desperate for love, she tried one of those dating sites, found the man of her dreams, and within months they already had a honeymoon baby on the way. Thankfully Autumn thought it was just as crazy as I did, even amidst her love for everything Nicholas Sparks and yes, Jane Austen. Shudder.

It's not that bad, really. Sense and Sensibility at least had some sense. Had Marianne wallowed in her tears or chased after Willoughby I may have taken away a star or two, but she married the Colonel and for that I am happy.

Alistair and I walked back to the car without talking. In between thoughts I'd listen to the sound of our feet tapping the sidewalk, the songs passing from open car windows, and the endearing tunes of the ice cream truck traveling to fingers that would soon be covered in sticky sugar.

Autumn texted me back: What are you doing?? I thought we were meeting for dinner??

I responded: I’ll be there soon. Got held up with something. Explain later.

Then my brother texted: OK, mom was worried cuz she didn’t hear from you, see ya later, happy bday sis.

I responded: Thanks, be back later around 10 … I’ll text mom too.

Alistair walked with his hands in his pockets almost the entire time. His hands seemed most relaxed there, but it left little room for his arm to sway into mine. Not that I wanted that or anything....

In only a few minutes we would be sitting in the car, driving to his hotel. We would say goodbye forever and I shouldn't have cared. I'd only known him, well, not even a full twenty-four hours and I had my ... precautions.

I'm only eighteen, I said inside. It wouldn't be the right time anyway. Not for me.

Yet, being with him made a hectic city feel peaceful. He was right. It was comfortable. And it seemed different than Donovan or Autumn. It wasn't just comfort. There was excitement bubbling under the satisfied stillness. It was there. I know he felt it too, but I couldn't lead him on.

“Deep in thought?” I said, interrupting the quiet air between us.

He kicked the ground as he took a step and brought his hands out of his pockets. “Do you ever feel like your life is passing and there’s nothing you can do about it?” His hands made various motions as he talked, passionately. “I mean, here I am, I planned everything so precisely thinking, gee, perhaps life will be like this when I am in my twenties and here I am. It’s nothing like I planned or imagined and sometimes I wonder if I’m being tricked into a bland life I never wanted.”

I tried to understand, but he lost me. “Tricked?”

“Life feels fake sometimes, doesn’t it? As though we’re passing through without a choice in the matter.”

“I don’t think so. I mean, maybe it feels that way right now, but you have choices.”

“Like I could choose to stop you right here on this sidewalk and kiss you until you can't breathe?”

I ran my hand through my hair, letting it drop into my face to hide my expression.