The main thing he'd been thinking, that whole last week, was that when it was over, he'd finally be able to breathe again. He didn't know what else could've been making him feel so weird, the awful tightness in his chest every time he was in the same room with Cook, the way his stomach just kept clenching up and jumping.

David stared up at him as he came to the table, and then Cook put a hand on David's shoulder and leaned over him. There was a really—really—weird moment when David thought for a second that Cook was about to—was going to—and David's stomach squeezed into a tiny knot, but Cook was just reaching over to grab the jacket he'd left on his seat.

Wherein there is magic, daring rescues, accidental kissing, not-so-accidental kissing, Clive Davis is evil, and everyone lives happily ever after.