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I found a muse, whether or not that's what he wanted to be; he was the muse. Everything was falling into place, and suddenly, it all made sense for me to be here. He was someone worth writing about, and as a writer, I needed to take the chance, even if I would end up heartbroken, but that's the dangerous thing about falling for someone. I always thought things lasted for a season; they're yours for the moment and not the next. It seemed I was completely wrong when I, Maris Amor, met Louis Walker, the boy who lived across the hall from me. How could I deny the boy with the green eyes asking me to write him a fantasy story? Between friendships and new self-discoveries, my only problem was figuring out whether he was a lover or just a friend. The boy who loved reading about fantasy worlds was living with me. I had promised to write one for him, but I was still determining if our story would be pure fantasy.

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