An 11-year-old girl sits in the backseat of her family’s Subaru - bored, impatient, wondering if we’re there yet. Typical family vacation. We’re on I-87, driving through upstate New York, and we can hear the parents wah wah wah in the front seat. Rest stop - sneakers hit pavement - our girl has been set free. And then she sees him. Brown curly hair. Green eyes. T-shirt and jeans. CUTE. He’s across the parking lot with his family. Also on vacation. “Get in the car, Sarah Jane!” Time to go. But everywhere along the road, she sees him. Her family and his family. Parallel New York vacations - White water rafting. At the vineyard. At Niagara Falls. Trying to get up the nerve to talk to him. Finally she does. In that adorable, awkward, 11-year-old kind of way. His name is Nate. Nate Young. His initials are sewn onto his backpack. And it’s love. First love. Young love.