I remember how deliciously disappointed you were in me when I confessed to you that I hadn't read Anthem. You yanked me close and mashed your body up against mine. Even after three years.. after all we'd been through.. my knees turned to jelly as you held me close with one arm and lifted the other up behind me and entangled your fingers in my mess of curls and pulled my head back, forcing me to look up into your eyes. Too brazen to break eye contact with you, I murmured my apologies and you made me vow that I wouldn't pick up another book until I'd read it. The book was laying open on the bed when you guided me down, and I could feel the pages crinkling underneath my head as you lowered yourself on top of me. You once again expressed your disappointment as you worked your hands up my sides, pushing my arms up over my head and pinned them there as your words died away, and you caught me off guard with a surprisingly tender kiss. While the rest of the night was not nearly so tender... It was one of those that I would never forget.

The next weekend, you asked me if I had finished the book.

"No," I lied.