Please don’t vomit. Please don’t vomit. Please don’t vomit. Saying I was nervous was like calling Mt. Everest a lovely little hill. I’d spilled my coffee at breakfast, stubbed my toe getting dressed, then forgot my purse when we left the house. I didn’t even remember the damn thing until we were half an hour into the ride. Oran said he’d seen Amelie, but I couldn’t help worry that it wasn’t really her. And even if it was her, what if she didn’t remember me? What on earth was I supposed to say? Every minute that passed brought my meager breakfast closer to finding its way back up and out. By the time we stood at her door, there was a real chance I would pass out. But then the door opened, and there she was. Amelie. My mouth opened, but nothing came out. I had to rub at my stupid eyes when t
