I'm in the car finishing up an email to my boss explaining why I won't be at work tomorrow - a so-called family emergency involving my grandmother from Michigan - and laughing at the tried-and-tested excuse when I hear it.

The windows are rolled nearly all the way down, so it comes to my ears loud and clear.

Singing.

The voice is soft but strong, and melodious and beautiful. I know instantly who is singing, but not because I recognize the voice.

See, there's only one other person living in my house. So unless I've caught a burglar red-handed, then the person singing is Nico, my boyfriend.

I mean, I knew he sang - we're going to one of his gigs tomorrow, not some hospital all the way across the U.S. border - but how was I supposed to know he was this freaking good?! He's never let me hear him before, that's why I'm so excited about the concert!

I turn off my phone but don't get out of the car. This is just about the only chance I'll probably ever get to hear him sing offstage again. I'll just as sure as hell let it go to waste.

And suddenly I'm blown off my feet. Or my butt, I guess, as I'm sitting. Because not only his voice, but the words he's saying, oh my freaking mother of god, he's singing about me!

My eyes, he's saying. My eyes are this turquoise he can't look away from.

My nose, he says. My nose is the strangest best part about me.

My hair, says this disembodied voice I can't believe I've never heard. My hair is miraculously amazing.

And me, he says. I'm the the best thing that's ever happened to him.

I can't stand to stay here and listen any longer. I just have to go to him, go to Nico and kiss him and tell him how much I like him. I have to, it's like some primal instinct I can't resist.

I open the car door as silently as I can. I want him to keep singing until my lips are pressed against his own so that he can't.

Shutting the door even quieter, I creep across the front yard, heading towards the front door, when I realize why I can hear Nico singing so clearly. He's outside.

I veer away from the house to go around it, listening all the while to these beautiful lyrics, all describing me, describing why he wants me, why he needs me, why I am everything to him.

I peer around the back corner of the house, and there he is. Sitting on the edge of our back porch, a notebook in his lap and a guitar in his arms, singing.

About me.

I just can't get over that.

I tiptoe behind him and wrap my arms around his amazingly muscular, broad shoulders, feeling him startle beneath me.

I kiss him on the ear and then whisper.

"I love you." Because now I know that. I don't "like" Nico. I love him. With all of my heart.

"Oh my god, Finn. You scared me" I feel his heart beat on my arms around his chest. "Oh my freaking mother of god, you scared me."

We are silent, and I wonder. What if he doesn't say it back?

"I love you, too, Finn. I love you too."

He says it.