“Wait, is that…loverboy?” Melanie sang, throwing her arm over my shoulder and standing on her tiptoes to see beyond the other campers arriving.

My heart fluttered in anticipation. The summer I was to turn seventeen, one year closer to becoming an adult and getting the hell out of Vegas, I practically floated on the brutally long ride to Camp Oscines. After Roman told me that he loved me the night of my sixteenth birthday, I was terrified those words were the final kiss of death in our relationship.

It ended up being quite the opposite.

The only possible way we could’ve become any closer was if I had finally agreed to sex. Not only was I incredibly nervous that I would make a fool out of myself because I had no idea what to do, but I somehow convinced Roman the summer before to wait until I got my hands on birth control.

As the end of our time together closed in, our kisses became more urgent, and we’d touch each other in ways that had me seriously reconsidering my decision to wait. The nights we spent exploring each other’s bodies under the stars lasted longer and longer as neither of us wanted our stolen nights to come to an end. One night on the beach I fell asleep in his arms and we woke just as the sun was gleaming over the treetops. I thought for sure we’d be busted that time, but Melanie and the guys in Roman’s cabin covered for us and none of our counselors batted an eye.

That summer brought our hardest goodbye yet, one laced with salty, tear-laced kisses, and promises that it wouldn’t be the end. He whispered into my ear, “I love you, Belle…always” before he left in the private car.

I couldn’t stop sobbing for most of the grueling ride back to Vegas. As much as I sometimes wished he hadn’t said the words, they kept me going every time they were uttered, whether in person, typed, written, or over the phone. In the year that would follow, it turned out I needed that added strength anywhere I could find it.

He returned to the academy in Texas for his junior year, saying he liked his friends there better than the “stuck up pricks” back home, but I knew his biggest reason for choosing to go back was because his dad couldn’t touch him all the way from New York.

His grandma gave him a cell phone once he was settled at the academy. It seemed weird that someone with rich parents didn’t have one before that, but his dad had cut him off in every way possible. He called me every chance he could, sometimes singing either new songs he had written or something we both knew so I could join in.

Handwritten letters and little presents arrived almost weekly, though none were as sweet as the gold ring with a graceful little musical note that he had given me on my sixteenth birthday, or as thoughtful as the beautiful rolling suitcase in my favorite shade of blue that arrived by mail two days before Christmas. He once told me that the academy didn’t pay him much for his dishwashing job, his gifts meant more to me than he could imagine.

Any free time outside of school, studying, and talking with Roman was spent waitressing alongside my friends for Benjamin at his business outside The Strip. It was hard work as I worked late hours and most of the customers were men with grabby hands. I’d sometimes fall asleep while on the phone with Roman after working a shift, but by spring I’d almost made enough in tips alone to pay for camp. Aunt Joey agreed to pay for the remaining $300 without Chris knowing.

I’d saved up a little on the side to send Roman a framed picture of us and a leather-bound journal for Christmas. I was downright giddy on New Year’s when he told me that he had transferred all the songs he had written into the journal, because that’s exactly what I had hoped he’d do with the present.

Roman always ended our chats and calls by saying that he loved me, but just like the summer before, there wasn’t any pressure to say it back. As much as I wanted to return the sentiment, the words solidified in my chest like concrete whenever my parents’ faces flashed through my mind.

Armed with a prescription for birth control that summer, I was ready to show him with my body just how much he meant to me.

When a seventeen-year-old Roman slid out from the back of another sleek limousine, looking impossibly mature and cool with the same short haircut as the summer before, it was the first time my underwear became damp without so much as his touch. Thanks to Facebook I wasn’t as surprised by his appearance this time, but it was no comparison to having the real thing standing in front of me.

My heady body was in motion before my lovesick brain caught up. The second his starry eyes met mine, he dropped his bag on the sidewalk and opened his arms in time to catch me.

With my legs wrapped around his waist, we kissed in a frenzy of frantic lips and eager tongues, as if there was a possible way to make up for all the time we spent apart. In that moment, I needed to touch him like I needed air to breathe.

“Counselor,” Melanie snapped behind me. When it didn’t stop us, she yelled it louder.

“Holy shit,” Roman muttered, panting against my lips. “Those were the longest nine months of my life.”

“They were pretty sucky,” I agreed with a soft giggle.

“God, I missed you, Belle.” A dark, impatient growl rose from his throat. “I can’t wait to be alone with you tonight.”

Every part of me became electrified in agreement.

The next few hours passed as slowly as the entire school year. But once we were finally alone on the beach, time stopped. I was the one who brought the blanket along, and I was the one who tackled him down on the sand.

“Belle!” His eyes were wide and a crooked smile was pressed to his lips. He was so damn beautiful that I couldn’t believe he was really mine. “What—”

I crushed my lips to his, slipping my tongue inside his warm mouth at the same time I reached up beneath his shirt with one hand to stroke his lean chest. He kissed me back, his tongue stroking mine with a delightfully soft but urgent pace as he flipped me over to my back.

We had come a long way since that first peck on the lips, and the sublime way he kissed me was only the beginning. His fingers were masterful in stroking my breasts and toying between my legs, orchestrating my body with a skill beyond that of which he played the guitar. But the eager burn between my legs demanded more of him. I yearned for him to take my virginity, to permanently brand me as his girl. He was my everything, and I wanted to give him everything I had.

I reached down to free his large hard-on from his shorts, swiping my thumb across the silky head. Roman moaned inside my mouth with a beautiful sound that made me as wet as the lake beside us.

“I’m ready,” I panted into his mouth.

He leaned back, eyes sparkling with excitement in the bright moonlight. “Are y-you s-sure?”

Knowing he was so nervous that his stutter came out touched me in ways I couldn’t put into words. My eyes watered and my lips stretched with a wide smile as I nodded. “My aunt put me on the pill.”

The way his face lit and he kissed me, you’d think I had finally spoken the three words he was waiting to hear. Though he claimed that he was also a virgin and I thought being on the pill would be enough, he surprised me by pulling a condom from his pocket. I bit down on my lips, determined not to laugh as he fumbled with it, swearing under his breath.

Finally we were both naked. The look he cast down on me when he first pushed his smooth tip up inside me will forever be branded into my memory—more permanent than the ink of a tattoo. His love spread over me like a warm embrace. I could feel it deep inside my soul, more beautiful and meaningful than any lyrics he could’ve written. I felt him branding me, providing a connection that could never be undone.

At first the intrusion burned and my body ached. Roman pressed wet kisses all over my face as he declared his love over and over, telling me I was beautiful and that I’d always be his girl. Our bodies were in sync with our hearts in that moment, merging as one. Then the pain faded somewhat, and I dug my fingers into his back to guide him while he gently glided in and out of my tingling center.

As we locked gazes, I was filled with a melody more alluring than any of his serenades over the phone. The adoration that shone in those beautiful seas of green was forever branded on my heart, always to be cherished and never to be forgotten. I’d later understand the glow seizing my belly wasn’t exactly the start of my first orgasm, but it was something close. Roman was so gentle and passionate that I was sure I’d explode with joy into a thousand pieces like the stars that twinkled over his shoulder.

But he exploded first with a shudder and a low groan before becoming still above me. I pulled his sweaty body down into my arms and stroked his short hair.

“You mean the world to me, Roman!” I whispered with a choked cry. “I’m sorry I can’t say the words you want to hear, but I do! I always have! I just—those words…”

“Shhhh, baby, it’s okay,” he hushed, pressing a wet kiss to my forehead. “I know.”

The best night of my life ended with us crying in each other’s arms.

* * *

As the increasingly warm days of June flew past, we became bonded in a way that felt more meaningful than any adult relationship I had ever known—especially my aunt’s nearly two-year relationship with Chris. Roman expressed his feelings with a fleeting look or lingering touches. I drifted my way through camp with my head in the clouds and my heart in Roman’s hands. Nothing could’ve made me happier than his whispered devotions or heartfelt kisses.

We made love on the beach a handful of times after that until Roman was busted when trying to leave after curfew, putting our secret nights to an end. I was crushed that we were no longer able to spend those precious hours alone. Though we sometimes found ways to sneak off to my cabin during free time as Melanie kept watch outside, whenever we were bold enough to have sex under the covers. It was hurried and lacked the magical element of the stars stretched across the sky above us.

More often than not we’d lay on the beach together during swim block, my head on his bare chest as his roaming fingers did nothing to curb the constant longing I felt when he was near. We each hoped to one day have a career in music, but I honestly didn’t want to talk about it as he would be in college a full year before I could join him. And a small part of me was worried he’d fall in love with some other girl while he waited for me to finish high school. It wasn’t until the end of June that he first brought up the idea of us having a future together.

“My grandma wants me to apply to Juilliard,” he blurted.

Knots twisted through my stomach as I tried to swallow. Bright-eyed, I spun around to face him. He never really mentioned much about school aside from saying his grandma was happy with his grades.

“Wow, Roman. That’s—”

“They’d never take me,” he grumbled. “I’ve started stuttering again when I sing.”

Frowning, I shook my head. “If you have, I haven’t noticed.”

“That’s because I never do it when you’re around. Everything’s fine when you’re near. You’re my rock, Belle.”

In that moment, when our gazes met and his finger traced the angle of my jaw, an even stronger connection than ever before struck me square in the chest. I could literally feel our souls fusing into one, breaking down every barrier that ever tried to separate us. In a trembling little flash that started at the pit of my stomach, I saw myself marrying Roman and having his babies.

I knew he’d be mine until the end of time, even though he wasn’t.

With tears thickening my throat, I told him, “You’ll beat your stutter somehow, just like you did before we met. You’re a musical genius.”

His cheeks flushed with a cute shade of red when he shrugged. “Maybe.”

Grinning, I pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “Stop being so modest.”

With an impossibly serious expression, he ran his thumb across my bottom lip. “I know it seems like forever before you graduate, but you should start thinking about applying there too. You could probably get in on a scholarship. I bet they’d trip over themselves for the chance to have someone with your voice.”

I inwardly sighed with his idea. Though his heart was in the right place, I knew I didn’t stand a chance in hell of getting into such a prestigious school. Even with a scholarship, there was no way I could afford housing and the cost of living in New York.

Aunt Joey and I had discussed my post-high school plans a few times before that summer. With the average grades I was pulling, I’d be lucky if I was accepted to a local community college. Although Chris told me that if I kept my nose out of trouble, he’d let me continue to live with them until I received some kind of diploma, I couldn’t get the hell out of there soon enough. I’d give up college to work several jobs if it meant getting out of that shitty little apartment.

It was foolish to dream that I’d ever attend the same college as Roman. Our love was everything at the time and I was sure it would last, but it still wasn’t enough to build a bridge between our separate worlds. Roman’s family was filthy rich, and I was lucky the way it was to have earned my way to this outrageously expensive summer camp. My heart nearly tore in half when I first acknowledged that our relationship may never have a chance to develop into anything beyond a summer fling.

“We’ll figure something out, Belle,” Roman said next, as if reading my mind. “My love for you is stronger than anything that could come between us. Look at how far we’ve come. We’ll be adults soon—nothing can stop us from being together.”

Oh, how I wanted to believe him.

A few nights later on my seventeenth birthday, Roman sang Extreme’s “More Than Words” at sound off. Silent tears streamed down my face as he crooned about not having to say the words “I love you” because he already knew.

The lyrics fit us so perfectly that I would’ve thought he had written it for me had I not heard Aunt Joey play it a hundred times before. His lips twitched with a beaming smile as he finished the song, and we spent the rest of the night cuddling. Though we barely had enough time to properly make-out before we were to report to our cabins for the night, he gave me a small heart-shaped necklace with what I suspected to be a real diamond in the center, and promised that I’d always have his heart.

On the Fourth of July, we slipped away during the fireworks show and had sex under a blanket on one of the smaller beaches, away from the other campers. I experienced my first orgasm along with the colorful explosions bursting through the sky, and we laughed about the irony afterwards.

As that summer filled with blinding passion and whispered promises came to an end, Roman continued to pretend that everything would be okay while I secretly grew more anxious over our unknown future. Like every summer before, I had become so comforted by his presence that I wasn’t able to breathe whenever I thought about the day we’d have to say our goodbyes.

Then the dreaded day came, and I was so sick to my stomach that I could hardly drag myself out of bed.

“I’m coming to see you over Christmas break,” he told me as we clung to each other.

As my heart skipped a few beats, I drew my head back to look up at him. “Wh—how?”

His lips spread with a beaming smile. “I don’t know for sure yet, but I’ve been thinking that I might be able to convince my grandma to buy me a plane ticket. She likes you…or what I’ve told her about you anyway. If she’s not down with it, I’ll find my own way to pay for a bus ride. I think it’s only something like fourteen hours from the academy. If Christmas doesn’t work, there’s always spring break.”

I tried to smile back, but the reality of our situation was too heavy. And I didn’t want to get my hopes too high. “Nothing would make me happier, Roman, but what if—”

“I’ll find a way, Belle,” he promised, taking my face in his hands. “I’ll always find my way to you, no matter what.”

He took me in his arms and kissed me in a way that had me completely convinced he was right, that we would survive anything. We had survived the nine months that followed when he was first sent to Texas and we didn’t have a way to stay in touch. He had survived his father’s cruel hands, and I had survived losing my parents. We were both strong in our own ways, having overcome our own obstacles.

Together, we were indestructible.

Or so I truly believed.

Years later I would often dream about going back in time to shake the living hell out of my seventeen-year-old self for the decisions I was about to make.