ont, tugging nervously at my scarf as I attempted to blend in. This was a far cry from the snug Hometown Café-a dark ambiance, romantic lighting, a stage lit up in uneven

e for a moment longer. The nervous quiver ebbed into my chest. The lights dwindled even further. The thrall turned as the audience bobbed over to hear Alex strumming on the stage with his guitar. He looked different here-a new man, especially under the hot white-bright lights that watched. Shaggy dark hair tumbled lazily down over his gr

es. "This next one's for a special girl. The crowd began to murmur as my heart hammered in my chest. He sang to me; this was for me, and it was as though we were the only two people in the room. The song itself was beautiful. It was a ballad of fleeting instances, quiet bravery, and the love that was defined by choosing a moment of the presence of forever. Tears were threatening to

and scooted past the crowd of spectators, I almost forgot how to breathe. But not long after, he found his way to me, his gaze soft and his look compassionate. "What did you think?" he inquired, his voice gentle, low, and careful, as though he might break the spell. I swallowed and tried to find words. "That was..." My voice cracked. "Incredible, Alex. I...I don't know what to say." He gave a bashful smile and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm glad you liked it. I wasn't sure if it was too much." My heart ached as I wanted to let everything out and tell him how I

be not." I let myself believe him for a fraction of a second. I imagined that it could be that easy, that I could step closer and kiss him. Our faces were close, just inches apart; I felt a magnetic pull, a connection. But then she felt a cough clenching her throat. I struggled to hold back and turned my head away, holding my mouth with a scarf. Alex looked at me puzzledly. "Emma, you sure you're alright?" he asked softly, but the question was insi

." Smiling in thanks tightly but warmly, feeling guilt creeping in, I knew he wasn't wrong. He should know the truth, too, but I didn't want to acknowledge it myself. Not tonight; not yet. When the music still pl