There are certain kinds of happiness that should come with a warning label.
Not because they aren’t real.
Not because they aren’t good.
But because when something becomes that beautiful—
that constant,
that woven into the shape of your every day—
you stop imagining life without it.
That was the problem with Landon and me.
Not that we moved too fast.
Not that we loved too much.
But that somewhere between hallway glances and midnight drives and whispered confessions in the dark, he had stopped feeling like
a part of my life—
and started feeling like the center of it.
And the scariest part was…
I didn’t hate that.
Not even a little.
The Monday after our night at the loft, I woke up smiling like an i***t.
And somehow, it only got worse from there.
I smiled while brushing my t
