In the time it takes for me to ask myself what I've said, what I've done, Finn's slender fingers wrap around the crumpled paper I have pressed to his chest. I think he deposits it in his pocket and then I think nothing at all. The second his lips touch mine, I lose myself.  

One hand is on the side of my face and without breaking our kiss, Finn turns so his back is against the door I just stormed in from. He picks me up, wraps my legs around him and slides to the floor. He smells like the hotel soap and aftershave and he tastes like mint leaves and I'm not sure of anything except this: I never want to let him go.  

I missed him. I missed us. I missed this so badly.  

He kisses me again and again and again, his hands holding my waist, skimming across my belly, grasping at waves of my hair that is long ago loose from the bandana until I finally break the connection. If I'm honest with myself ending it is the last thing I want to do but it's more intense than anything I've ever felt before, more thrilling than any kiss we've ever shared and I don't want to allow the opportunity for anything to come along and ruin it.  

That smile; that sly little smile that starts on his lips and touches his eyes right before it lights up his entire face is back again. I missed that smile, too.  

"Wow," he says. "That was..."  

"Amazing," I finish for him. I ignore my heart begging me not to move and climb off of him before rising to my feet. "It was amazing."  

Finn stands too and stretches his arms out, snaking them around my waist. "Trying to leave so soon?"  

I shake my head. "I'm not leaving. I want you to read what's written on that piece of paper and tell me what you think."  

"If I read it, do I get to do that again?"  

"If you read it, you get a record deal," I say. "I hope."  

"Fine. But take off your shoes and sit down. Stay a while," he says. He grabs a water from the mini-bar fridge and hands it to me. I twist the cap, take a long sip and plant myself on the edge of the bed waiting to gauge his expression when he reads it.  

He pulls out the paper and I see his eyes roaming left to right while he reads. I think he reads it two or three times because it's taking him a while. The smile is gone and he's chewing on his lower lip in concentration. His hair falls over his eye and I want to stand up and brush it away so I have an excuse to touch him again. The silence is dreadful. What if my words are awful instead of beautiful like I thought they were?  

I clear my throat, unable to tolerate the quiet any more. "It's not finished yet. I mean, it was just a start. I was supposed to-" 

"Laney," he says. "Stop."  

"Well the thing is, I know it's a little rough but it's the best thing I've written in a while and-" 

Finn places the paper back in his pocket and drops to his knees in front of me. He takes both of my hands in his and brings them to his lips. "Stop," he repeats.  

"I can do better," I say. And then I'm suddenly pissed off with myself for trying to reason with something that has no reason. Lyrics or poetry. None of these things have reason. They aren't supposed to. That's what makes them an expression of someone else. That's what makes them art.  

"You are perfect." Finn says. "What you wrote, it's incredible."  

"Thank you," I say.  

He rises and walks to where his guitar is. He grabs it, removing a pick from the strings and holding it between his teeth while he settles himself on the bed and pats the spot next to him. "Let's make some music, pretty girl."  

I shuffle myself across the bed so I'm beside him. Finn cocks his head to the left, as if that somehow allows him to hear the sound better and strums a chord. I can tell by the look on his face that he's changed his mind about whatever it was he played. He doesn't think that's the right note.  

He tries again, once, then twice and then he sings the first few lines of the song.  

"You think that I'm a sell out. You ought to get the hell out and let me fall down on my own."  

He does the exact same thing a second time, only he projects his voice more and I'm certain a piece of my insides melt at the sound of it.  

We continue on this way and I find myself strumming my fingers on my knee in time to his beat and even though my talent isn't even close to his, I sing a few of the words myself. We change the tempo a couple of times until we have a solid beat to go with the lyrics. It's a little more rock and roll than I'd anticipated but Finn is the brains behind the musical genius and he knows what he's doing. 

This sudden place I find myself in is where I always want to be.  

He grins and sets his guitar down. "We are so good at makin' music," he says.  

I nod, feeling like I've just won a gold medal at a marathon. Like together, Finn and I can conquer the universe.  

Finn doesn't ask permission. Instead, he takes my chin in his hand and kisses me again. "We're so good at everything else, too."  

"Yes," I agree. "We are."  

"Stay with me," he says. "I won't try anything. I swear. Just sleep next to me."  

I should probably at least pretend to hesitate but I don't. "Okay."  

"Okay?"  

"Okay," I repeat. "I'll stay but I want to go back to my room and get my notebook and PJ's."  

"Fair enough," Finn says. "But come back or I'll be forced to think you've used me for my mad kissing skills, especially since you didn't even buy me dinner first."  

"Wow," I say. "Your ego is the size of Texas."  

"Alaska," Finn says.  

"I beg your pardon?"  

"Alaska," he says again, this time he enunciates each syllable perfectly. "Everyone always says such and such is as big as Texas. Well Alaska is bigger. By a lot."  

"Okay well your ego is the size of Alaska then," I say.  

"My ego is not," Finn argues, "But my heart is and it belongs to you. That's some awfully big real estate, Delany. Don't gamble with it, okay? It's not a bad investment."  

I press my hand to my lips to hide my smile. "I know it's not," I say. I head to the door and put my hand on the doorknob right as Finn's voice trails behind me.  

"Then ask me," he says.  

"Ask you what?"  

"You know what," he says. "If you know it's not a bad investment, then prove it and ask me."  

I know exactly what he wants. Finn wants to play our little game. We did this hundreds, thousands of times in school. He wants me to ask the same question that cleared the space across cafeterias and down hallways, even over football fields. The same question I'd shout at the top of my lungs just to get him to react. The same question that would make all the girls green with envy and start the guys razzing Finn on how whipped they thought he was. He never cared.  

I give in.  

"Hey Finn," I say as loud as I can without turning around.  

"Yeah, baby?"  

"How long will you love me?" 

"I'll love you until forever," he says. "Maybe even longer than that."  

I twist the doorknob and shoulder it open.  

"Hey Finn," I yell.  

"Yeah, baby?"

"I love you till forever, too."  

Before I can be too embarrassed by my loud and somewhat animated display of affections, I head back to my own room and examine myself in the mirror. My cheeks are kissed with color, my mascara is running and my hair looks like it's windblown. I can't see it, but I know my heart is swelling, I can feel it.  

I quickly change into a camisole and a pair of lacy shorts before grabbing my notebook and heading back to to his room. I rap my knuckles on his door. Finn has settled in bed and he lifts one side of the cover. I crawl in beside him and snuggle up against him.  

"Delany," he whispers. "I missed you."  

"Me too."  

I want to pinch myself.  

A few days ago I was living.  

Today...tonight, I am alive.