General Disclaimer: Probably should've included this in the first chapter, but if it's not John Green's or Cassandra Clare's, it's mine.

We walked into the library lot silently. I figured I should call my mom before I went to William's place, because she'd probably have a hernia if I wasn't home in time for dinner. I leaned against the passenger door as the phone rang.

"Tessa?"

"Hi mom, it's me. I just wanted to let you know that I'm not coming home in time for dinner. You and dad go on without me, I'll eat later."

"That's fine sweetie. But where exactly are you?"

"I'm leaving the library with a friend of Jem's. He's cool; we're just going to hang out."

"Hang out?" I could sense her raising her eyebrows on the other end of the line.

"Just hanging out mom! Seriously" I whispered.

"Okay, just be safe. Love you."

"Love you too mom."

I put my phone away and slipped into the passenger seat. It didn't take long to get to Will's house, but here's terrifying fact number two about this boy: he can't drive to save his life. After almost running over 5 pedestrians, 2 squirrels and nearly crashing into a tree, I started clinging to the dashboard for dear life.

He smiled and looked ahead. "I didn't pass the driver's test the first time around."

"Geesh, I wonder why" I reply sarcastically.

"Truth be told, I shouldn't have gotten it the second time around either. Probably a cancer perk" he said shrugging his shoulders and skidding around a corner.

Cancer perks. The sentiments that drive people to give cancer kids the things regular kids couldn't: passes to amusement parks, grade inflation, driver's license, the works. I gulped as he started to slow down.

"So where do you go to school?" I ask. If he's in school, that means he's in remission. He's healthy.

"Alymer High. How about you?"

Well, Tessa has never been to high school, having been diagnosed with cancer at 13 and nearly dead at 14. But I did get my GRE a year ago, so I've been taking some classes at the nearby community college. I told him that.

He quirked his mouth up in one corner. "College girl. Sweet".

I punched him in the arm, and I probably wound up more injured than him. Jesus his muscles were hard. I wrung my hand while he pulled into his driveway, relieved to get out of the car. He led me through his house into the kitchen in the back. There were words plastered onto everything. Where your treasure lies, there will your heart be also was inscribed onto a metal hanging on the wall. The words The best and beautiful things cannot be seen with the eyes, they must be felt with the heart were on a magnet on the fridge. William noticed me reading. "My parents like to put encouraging statements up everywhere. And I mean everywhere" he said.

His parents call him Will. Will is a carbon copy of his mom, who happened to be pulling brownies out of the oven as we walked into the kitchen. His dad was mixing together a salad on the countertop in front of the sink. They both acknowledged that Will was not alone, but were waiting for him to make the introductions.

"Mom, Dad, this is Theresa Adele" he announced.

"Just Tessa" I said.

"Hi Just Tessa" his dad said, grinning and waving salad tongs at me. The only thing Will seemed to have inherited from his dad was his long limbs. His dad was this blond-haired man who didn't seem to age the way most parents do.

"How's Jem doing?" he asked, glancing towards Will.

"Just dandy, except for the fact that he gets his other eye poked out next week."
"Willllll" his mom said with a warning tone.

He shrugged and walked over to his mom, wrapping an arm around her neck and kissing her on the cheek. "I mock and I tease, but Jem's important and you know that," he said.

She smiled and looked up at me, letting Will's comment slide. "I presume you're joining us for dinner?"

I nodded. "It looks like it. But I have to be home by ten; I have a curfew."

The conversation over dinner involved mostly Will's parents talking to me about everything from his cancer (which was awkward), to my education (at which point Will interjected that I was a college student) and the weather ("We haven't had an April this warm since 2008!" exclaimed Will's dad). The brownies that his mom ("Call me Linette" she told me when I tried to call her Mrs. Herondale) had made earlier were set on the table for desert. Will's jaw dropped when I told him I'd pass.

"No brownies for you? Mom's brownies are like the pillows of the Gods infused with chocolate and sugar, dripping with an antidote that can cure the most poisoned of hearts."

"I'm sure Linette's brownies are great, but I'm just not a fan of chocolate. I never have been." I said.

"Which planet doth thou come, devil creature?" he asked, his Welsh accent dripping with mockery.

"You could take a page from her book, Will. You go through enough chocolate to feed Napoleon's army during the winter of 1812" his dad added.

Will stood up and wiped his hands on a napkin. "Well, Tessa and I are going to go watch Titanic in the basement so Tessa can meet her spiritual doppelgänger in the form of Rose" he said.

"No, you're going to watch it in the living room" his dad said.

"But I want to show Theresa Adele the basement" he insisted.

"Just Tessa" I interjected.

"So show Just Tessa the basement and then come back to the living room to watch Titanic" his dad said, throwing a wink in my direction.

Will let out a dramatic sigh and pressed the back of his hand to his temple. "Fine" he said curtly.

I followed him down the steps to the basement. It wasn't huge, but it was the perfect size for a bedroom, which explained why his dad didn't want us watching the movie down here. There was a shelf running around the room with certificates, photos, trophies, medals, mementos and books. Dozens upon dozens of books. His bed, which was just a mattress pushed against the wall, was unmade and scattered in clothes. There was a television mounted on the wall across the bed.

I picked up a photo frame. It looked like it was taken recently, because the Will in the photo looked exactly like the one making his bed. He had his arms wrapped around two girls, all three of them grinning into the camera.

"William, who are these two?" I called across the room, tapping on the glass with my index finger .

He turned and saw the photo in my hand. "My sisters" he said, walking over to me with a smile on his face. "The one on the left is Cecily and the girl on the right is Ella."

"Where are they?"
"Ella's twenty-two, and she just finished college. She's in Chicago, working in something very fancy and living with her boyfriend Axel."

"And Cecily?"

"Boarding school. We were close, but cancer has a way of ripping apart more than a body. I think she was tired of being neglected by mom, dad and Ella. She went through a rough patch with some bullies and didn't have a lot of support because my family was too busy trying to save me. So she went to Hotchkiss in Connecticut."

"Oh". I wish I had kept my stupid mouth shut. I set the photo back onto the shelf and looked at the rest of the shelf.

"You must've been a good soccer player in order to get all these awards" I said.

"First of all, it's football. I don't understand why you Americans call it soccer. I used to play a lot of pick-up games when I was in Wales. It just sort of carried over when we moved to Boston. The paraphernalia are all cancer perks. That ball in the corner was signed by David Beckham, and I have a Ronaldo jersey somewhere. Anyhow, I was an offensive player, but I sort of gave it up one day when I was kicking a line of balls into a goal. I wondered what the hell I was doing, just repeatedly putting a circle through a rectangle. It was stupid" he said. He was now sitting cross-legged on his bed, leaning back on his hands.

I took a seat on the edge. It wasn't a suggestive act; my lungs are just really feeble. "Was this before your diagnosis?"

His mouth quirked up in the corner. "Then there was that issue. This happened about two weeks before I got my leg chopped off. It put a lot of things into perspective. I was existing, but I wasn't doing anything by playing football. Sartre wasn't crazy when he came up with existentialism."

I liked him. I knew then that I liked him a lot. I liked the way he said existentialism, and the way he treated his parents and how his voice made my skin tingle and ears ring.

"So what's your story?" he asked suddenly.

"I was diagnosed when I was-"

"Please don't tell me you are one of those people who become their disease. What's your most favorite activity? Start there."

"I like to read" I said automatically.

"Now we're getting somewhere! Do you read science fiction?"

"No"
"How about fan fiction or non-fiction?"

"No and No"

"Do you like the classics? All the romantic literature rubbish?"

I dramatically pressed my hand to my chest. "As someone who functions off of the 'romantic rubbish', I object to that!" I said.

He grinned and scratched his head. "Okay, so recommend a book. I'll let you critique Otranto in turn."

He walked over to the dresser and pulled Otranto out from… was that his underwear drawer? He also pulled down the Titanic from a nearby shelf before he sat on the mattress again.

I thought for a second before I said "Read A Tale of Two Cities. It's my favorite."

He nodded and offered me a hand to pull me to my feet. "Alright, I'll read it right away. Let's go watch the Titanic before you miss your curfew."

His parents were conspicuously absent as we sat on the couch and watched the movie. There was a bowl of popcorn between us. I tried not to reach into the bowl whenever he did, but I wound up skimming his hands anyways. I think he was enjoying it. Who knows.

Anyways, I decided that maybe I did like romantic movies after all. Rose was a delicate rich girl, but Jack brought out the tough and brash side of her. The movie ended half an hour before ten. Will offered to drop me home, but I said that I'll drive while he sits shot-gun. I was not willing to risk my life again.

When I pulled into my driveway, I leaned back in the seat to catch my breath. Kissing him was definitely running through my mind. I wonder if he was thinking about kissing me to. I blinked my eyes to get rid the thought. I was not going to kiss him, not when I had a very good chance of leaving him. So I smiled and grabbed the book from the back seat.

"Theresa Adele, it has been an absolute pleasure to make your acquaintance" he said, winking on the last bit.

"Ditto, William" I said. I'm not as smooth with words as he is. In hindsight, I just sounded plain stupid.

"So will I see you tomorrow then?" he asked.

"Patience is a virtue" I said.

"That's why I asked about tomorrow. I would've liked to keep talking to you now."

"You really want to talk to some girl you picked up at the library?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

"Only if she'll let me. But in the meanwhile, I have a Victorian era masterpiece to read."

"How about I call you when I'm done with Otranto?"
"But you don't have my number" he said.

"Don't play stupid, I know you wrote it in the book" I said, stepping onto the pavement.

He gave me a crooked smile. "Didn't I say I wanted to keep talking to you?"