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“Don’t make me regret letting you come with us, missy.”

“Like you can keep me away, Rex. I’m not one of your women.”

“Ew! That’s disgusting. Why would you say that?”

The two squabble and I groan. They won’t leave me alone until I respond.

“I’ll be out in ten. Just need a breather. Chill!” I holler and hear more grumblings from my brother and sister before their voices fade away.

I return my attention back to Dreamer’s latest entry in the journal and a rush of warmth infuses my chest.

Dearest Keeper of My Dreams,

My heart stutters at the name she’s given me, even though I gave her my middle name in our text messages. But there’s something more intimate in the old-school weekly journal habit we’ve kept up the last two months.

You were tricky with this week’s clue.

Dreaming of you,

A day, so special, and true.

The hummingbird’s sweet melody.

A future, so momentous, your harmony.

Is this your way of getting back at me with my clue a few months ago when I sent you to the DVD section forThe Notebook?

Your poetry is beautiful though. Why don’t you write more and publish them? When I first read it, I immediately thought of the courtyard outside the hummingbird window. And I hope, someday, when I find my place in the world, I’ll be able to have that one special picnic there.

With you.

The thumping inside my chest quickens—every beat eclipsing the ruckus of the nightclub, which seems an entire universe away.

That’s her magic, my dreamer. The breathtaking supernova illuminating the inky night skies. Unbidden, a flash of red hair floats to my consciousness—the mystery girl who bumped into me a while back who brightened my dreary day with her presence.

But that was before I met Dreamer—she shines from within, sight unseen. I know she’ll eclipse any women I’ll ever meet.

My Nova wants to spend her special day with the person she loves.

And she’s invited me.

I don’t want to overthink this, but I can’t help but overthink everything. Her words, the softness in them, the sweetness, they all seem tobe meant for me. This connection I feel pulsating through black ink on white paper or digitized in our texts. I can’t be imagining this.

I want to meet her.

Desperately.

I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, especially someone I’ve never seen. I don’t know if she has short hair or long hair. If she wears glasses and has curves, or if she’s tall and slim.

I don’t care.

I already know she’s beautiful.

Congrats on your promotion, Keeper. I hate hearing the words, “I told you so,” but I can’t help but officially state…

I told you so.

I never doubted you, even as you doubted yourself. Have you found your direction in life now? Are you still as lost as when I first met you?