Chapter one

WHEN I WAS FIVE YEARS OLD, I walked down the aisle with the man of my dreams.

Okay, make that boy. He was five, too.

I'd known Nate Taylor pretty much since birth. Our fathers had been friends since childhood, and every year, Nate and his parents would spend the summer with my family. My baby book was filled with pictures of me and Nate -- taking a bath together as infants, playing in our tree house in the backyard, and -- my favorite -- dressed up as a miniature bride and groom at my cousins wedding. (Soon after, the picture of me in my white dress and Nate in his tux was hung proudly on my bedroom wall.)

Everybody always joked that one day we'd get married for real. Nate and I used to think so, too. We thought we were the perfect couple. I didn't mind playing war with him, and he would even play with my dolls (although he'd never admit it). He'd push me on the swings and I'd help him organize his action figures. He thought I looked pretty with my hair in pigtails, and I thought he was cute (even during his brief pudgy stage). I liked his parents, and he liked my parents. I wanted an English Bulldog, and he wanted a Pug. Macaroni and cheese was my favorite food, and it was his favorite food, too.

What else could a girl want in a guy?

To me, looking forward to summer was the same thing as looking forward to Nate. As a result, so many of my memories revolved around him:

-My first kiss (in my tree house when we were eight; I punched, him, then cried afterward).

-The first time I held hands (when we got lost during a third-grade scavenger hunt).

-My first Valentine's Day card (a red construction-paper heart with my name on it).

-My first camping trip (Nate and I put up a tent in our backyard when we were ten and spent the entire night out there by ourselves).

-The first time I purposely deceived my parents (I took the train into Chicago by myself to see Nate last year; I told my parents I was spending the night at my best friend Tracy's).

-Our first true kiss (fourteen; this time I didn't put up a fight).

After that kiss, my anticipation for summer intensified. We weren't playing make-believe anymore. The feelings were real, they were different. The heart involved wasn't made from construction paper -- it was living, beating . . . real.

When I thought about summer, I thought about Nate. When I thought about love, I thought about Nate. When I thought about anything, I thought about Nate.

I knew that this summer it would happen. Nate and I would be together.

The last month of school was unbearable. I starred a countdown clock to his arrival. I took shopping trips with my friends to buy "Nate clothes." I even bought my first bikini with him in mind. I set my work schedule at my dad's dental office around Nates work schedule at the country club. I didn't want anything to get in our way.

And then it happened.

He was here.

He was taller.

He was older.

He was no longer cute -- he was sexy.

And he was mine.

He wanted me. And I wanted him. It seemed that simple.

Soon enough, we were together. Finally, really together.

Only I didn't get the fairy tale I was hoping for.

Because guys change.

They lie.

They stomp on your heart.

I found out the hard way that fairy tales and true love don't exist.

The perfect guy doesn't exist.

And that adorable picture of the innocent miniature bride with the guy who would one day break her heart?

That didn't exist anymore, either,

I watched it burn in flames.

Chapter Two

It all happened so fast.

It started like every other summer. The Taylors arrived, and the house was bustling with people. Nate and I flirted constantly ... it was the routine we'd been going through for the past few years. Only this time, there were things underneath the flirtation. Like desire. Like the future. Like sex.

Everything I dreamed of started to happen. Nate was perfect to me. The guy I held everyone else up to. The one who always made my heart beat fast and my stomach flip.

This was the summer that my feelings were finally returned.

It started with a couple of dates, nothing big. Just movies, dinner, etc.

Our parents had no idea what was going on, Nate didn't want to tell them, and I went along. He said they'd probably overreact, and I didn't disagree. Even though I knew our parents always wanted us to eventually end up together, I wasn't sure they would've been prepared for us to be together yet. Especially when he was sleeping downstairs in our soundproofed basement.

It was all going so well. Nate said all of the things I wanted to hear. How I was beautiful and perfect, how I made him lose his breath when we kissed.

I was in heaven.

We kissed. Then we kissed and kissed. Then we kissed some more. But soon that wasn't enough. Soon hands started wandering, clothes started coming off. This was everything that I'd been waiting for... but it seemed fast. Too fast. No matter what I gave him, he wanted more. And I was fighting it. Everything we did turned into a constant struggle over how far I'd go.

It took so long to get to this place, I didn't want to rush it. I didn't understand why we couldn't just enjoy the moment, enjoy being together, and not hurry to the next step.

And by next step, I meant physically.

There wasn't a lot of discussion about next steps in terms of our relationship.

After a couple of weeks, Nate started talking about how he felt that I was the one, his true love. It could all be so amazing, he said, if I just let him love me the way he wanted to.

This was what I'd been fantasizing about for so long. This was what I'd always wanted. So I thought, Yes, I'll do it. Because it will be with him. And that's what matters.