Closer.
And suddenly all the air leaves my lungs.
She tilts her head back.
Her fingers curl into the front of my shirt, gripping the fabric like she's nervous too.
Like this isn't easy for her either.
That realization hits me harder than it should.
Because I think my brave little Firecracker is scared.
And somehow that makes this mean even more.
Then she pulls me down.
And kisses me.
Everything stops.
The street.
The night.
The distant hum of traffic.
The wind.
All of it fades away.
Gone.
It's not dramatic.
Not fireworks.
Not some over-the-top movie scene.
It's better than that.
Because it's real.
Warm.
Tentative.
Perfect.
Her lips are soft.
She tastes faintly like coffee and the peppermint candy she'd stolen from the Bingo refreshment table earlier.
I can't stop smiling against her mouth.
And when she feels it, she laughs softly.
The sound goes straight through me.