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“I woke up the next morning with the sun blazing through my window. I groaned and made to pull my pillow over my head. "Ow." I froze, and grinned sheepishly when I realized my head was not resting on a pillow, but rather on Reggie's chest. "Sorry." "You should be sorry," he said in mock chastisement, his voice thick with sleep. He didn't look upset, though. His dirty-blond hair was an utter wreck from all the pulling on it I did last night, and the beatific smile on his face... I had seen Reggie smile dozens of times by that point. His smile was a mask he wore. He smiled when he was sad, he smiled when he was anxious, or when he was playing a practical joke to deflect. This smile, though, reached all the way to his eyes, making them crinkle at the corners. This was a real smile. In that moment, he looked happier, and more relaxed, than I'd ever seen him.” — Jenna Levine