Here Comes the sun

"Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter…"

Chapter Thirty-eight

THE WINTER AIR GAVE ME A shock as we left Amy's house. I started to shiver as we walked to

Ryan's car and he put his arm around me.

I suddenly didn't feel cold anymore.

Ryan opened the door for me to get in. I sat down and put my seat belt on as Ryan got in the other

side. He turned on his engine and his stereo started blaring. He started to blush.

"Nice CD," I commented.

"Thanks, I really like it"

"Me, too!" I said, no longer talking about the music.

I leaned back in the passenger seat and laid my head on the headrest. It had taken us a while, but we

were finally here.

I reached over and turned up the volume and sang along to the last song on the CD I had made him.

Because even though it was the middle of the night, I could still sing "Here Comes the Sun" and mean

every word, every emotion.

Especially the part about it being all right.

It was more than all right.

It was perfect.

Acknowledgments

There are numerous people to whom I owe a huge debt of gratitude for their help with this book.

First and foremost, my brilliant editor, David Levithan, for his guidance, patience, and support. I am

extremely lucky to have my book in such great hands. And I really didn't mean it about guys with names

with D being the devil.

My wonderful agent, Jodi Reamer, who spent years getting me to this point. I am truly thankful for

everything that you have done for me. You were right, you were right, you were right (and you now have

that in writing to taunt me with).

Thanks to everybody at Scholastic who has worked so hard on this book. Special thanks to Karen

Brooks for her copyedit expertise and Becky Terhune for the most adorbs cover and book design an

author could hope for.

My dear friend Stephenie Meyer for being my biggest cheerleader, especially when I needed it the

most. Your enthusiasm for this book has meant the world to me and I am so grateful for all your positive

advice and support. I owe you one. Oh, wait...

I had wonderful readers throughout these many drafts who provided me with invaluable feedback:

Anamika Bhatnagar, my first reader (I still cringe when I think back on that first draft — sorry about that);

(the real) Jennifer Leonard; Heidi Shannon; Tina McIntyre; Natalie Thrasher; Genevieve Gagne-Hawes;

and Bethany Strout.

My friends and the loser tools we've dated, who have provided me with many ideas for the Lonely

Hearts Club, Especially Alexis Burling, who lent me her "Roses are red..." story, and Tara McWilliams

Coombs, who worked her styling magic for my author photo. May we all find the one who is worth it.

And, of course, John, Paul, George, and Ringo, my constant inspiration from the very beginning.

About the Author

Elisabeth Eulberg was born and raised in Wisconsin before heading off to college in Syracuse and

making a career in the New York City book biz. She lives outside of Manhattan with her three guitars, two

keyboards, and one drumstick. In researching this book, she tried swearing off boys forever. It didn't

work.

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