He considered it his duty never to breathe a word of that summer to anyone. He knew Ann certainly didn't want him to, and for the past five years, all he'd wanted was to make her happy. She'd let him do it, just for those few blistering hot months they'd spent together in France, the only two Americans in that small wine country town. He'd been the cause of her laughter, of her shining eyes. He'd gotten to run his hands through her silky blonde hair. He'd kissed that sweet spot on the back of her neck.
Now that they were back in school, she'd returned to her friends, and he to his. Neither group suspected, and neither ever would. Not from anything he said or did, anyway. If he stared moony-eyed at her across the classroom, or slowed his pace as they passed her locker, well that was normal. In fact, they would have been more suspicious if he hadn't.
So he was able to keep quietly dreaming, hoping, fantasizing about the day when Ann would come back to him.
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