It was the most perfect, terrible thing anyone had ever said to her. Because she knew, even then, with the certainty of a sixteen-year-old heart, that summer was a bubble. And bubbles always pop.
“I know,” he said, and a real smile broke through his tired-boy facade. It was crooked and a little shy. “But it was the only thing I could think of to say that wouldn’t sound completely stupid. Hi. I’m Lucas.” tiffany thompson teenagers in love
Not the crushes she’d had before—the fleeting, breathless admiration for a boy in her biology class who could solve a quadratic equation or the lead singer of a band whose poster she’d kissed goodnight. She wanted the real thing. The kind of love that made the songs on her cracked iPod Touch make sense . It was the most perfect, terrible thing anyone
The summer Tiffany Thompson turned sixteen, the air in Fairview smelled different. It wasn't just the honeysuckle climbing the chain-link fence by the high school or the faint chlorine from the public pool. It was the scent of possibility, heavy and sweet as overripe peaches. Tiffany, with her sun-streaked brown hair and a constellation of freckles across her nose, was ready to fall in love. “I know,” he said, and a real smile
The town’s annual summer carnival had set up on the football field, and the air smelled of funnel cake and diesel. Tiffany was supposed to be watching her little brother, Ben, try to win a goldfish by tossing a ping-pong ball into a row of jelly jars. Instead, she was watching Lucas Hale.