"A weed is but an unloved flower." -Ella Wheeler Wilcox Iris was a flower in every sense of the word, beautiful, delicate, loved by everyone in her school. Thale was a weed, reserved, prickly, destroying anything that got in his way. He was the one person she shouldn't have asked to help find the admirer who was putting a flower in her locker every day. She was the one person he knew that he shouldn't have been around. After all, weeds kill, obliterate, suck the lives out of plants, don't they? But if that were the case, then why did it feel like he was the one nourishing her life instead of destroying it?

❝You and me,❞ he whispered, ❝until the end of time.❞ // A chronicle of Junie Bennett's birthdays from the ages of ten to twenty one.

They weren't supposed to kiss. But they did.