The summer I graduated from high school, I raced out of my small Virginian town to seek my culinary dreams in the big city and settled in Philadelphia. I had big plans to roam the earth and splurge on its fruits. Five years later, I was still in Philly, living with the same roommate I'd had when I had first moved, working as a pastry chef in a bakery, I had Caden Hanes. I loved him, even when I hated him. Our relationship was hot and cold, hard and fast, sexy and heartbreaking. It wasn't until I was with Caden that I understood that passion could be just as terrible as it was beautiful. Being with Caden was like being addicted to thrill-seeking adventures. You know there is a danger in it, and it makes your heart race and adrenaline pump into your body. Sometimes you nail it and the rush is breathtaking and amazing. Sometimes you miss, and there is fear and regret in your heart as you fall to the unforgiving ground. After one particularly hard fall, I went home to Virginia for a long weekend. That was where I became reacquainted with my brother's old college friend Connor. That's when I learned that passion could be a slow, sweet burn.