You're laying in the grass in James' backyard after school. He starts talking about how delicate girls are.

"Their hearts are delicate like glass.. yours especially."

He mutters as he looks over at you.

"You think so..?"

You ask.

"Yes. You're worthy of my grace.."

His face reddens.

"Your grace?"

"I'm saying I like you."

He confesses. He covers his red face with his hand.