When we leave the restaurant, it's dark, and even though it's early July, the streets of downtown Chicago are cold. I shiver in my thin crop top and leggings, trying not to let Patrick notice, but he does anyway. Without saying anything, he takes off his jacket and puts it around my shoulders. It's immediately warmer, and it smells deliciously of him. This almost brings tears to my eyes. Brett never, ever did anything like this, he'd just smirk and say "Should've brought a coat." Unlike him, Patrick is a proper gentleman.

Just as we're turning the corner onto our street, he suddenly says, "Let's not go back just yet."

"What should we do, then?" I ask, and he gives me an adorably mischievous grin.

"Follow me." He takes me by the hand and we run down the street together, laughing. I realize that he's taking me to the nearest mall. I'm about to remind him that it's almost eight and none of the shops will be open, if the mall itself is even open, but he puts his finger to his lips and tugs me along.

The mall is open, but all the shops inside are closed. It appears to be completely deserted, but I can hear drunken laughter coming from the basement, where all the alternative clothing shops are. It's the only part of the mall that I usually go to, although whenever I'm shopping with Honey, she drags me to New Look and Forever 21. Ugh. I hate those shops. But Patrick's taking me to the first floor, where the jewelry quarter is.

We stop outside one of the shops, a big fancy one with a red and gold front. it's called Hubert and Sons Jewelers. We gaze in the shiny window at the beautiful gems that neither of us will ever be able to afford.

"What would you do now if there wasn't any glass there?" asks Patrick. It's a weird question, but he's a bit of a weird guy. Not hat I'd ever tell him that, of course.

"I'd take the lot and run," I reply. We both laugh.

"You're so honest, aren't you?"

"Hey, who the hell wouldn't do the same. Like, can you name one person?"

"Uh, Jesus, maybe?"

"Nah, even he's be tempted." We both laugh again.

"Seriously, though," he says after a while. "Like, which ones?"

I look at the shining display, properly, this time, and try to think about it. They're all beautiful, every last piece of jewelry, but I'm drawn to one particular set. It's a silver set, with a pair of earrings made to look like vines swinging down, a necklace like twisted vines and a bracelet of a similar design. But what really strikes me is the ring: a small, dainty structure similar to the bracelet and necklace. It's crafted from silver made to look like a leafy vine is wrapped around the wearer's finger. "That one," I say, pointing to it.

"Yeah, that's one's beautiful," he says, quietly.

We walk home, his hand entwined in mine. I'm not sure how that happened exactly. All I know is that I never want this feeling to end. I almost don't notice how he keeps looking at my hands, but I'm not that caught up in the moment. Not yet.

Two days later, I wake up in the morning to a knock on my door. When I go to get it, I find nothing but a small red and gold bag. Inside, is a tiny black box. Inside that is a small ring, perfect for my finger. It's made of silver, and is expertly crafted into the shape of a leafy vine.