“No one can see us in there, though,” Rose whines. “We can do whatever we want, and we won’t need to be locked in a bedroom for once.”

“To be fair,” I say, spinning in a circle, “no one can see us right here, either.”

She looks around, thoughtfully. Then she lunges for me and wraps her arms around my middle, lifting me off the ground.

“Rose,” I cry, kicking into midair. “Let me go!”

“Make me.”

“This is kidnapping,” I protest as she walks me toward the trees.

She stops just inside the border of trees, approximately two feet into the woods, still holding me. “Now, isn’t this romantic?” she asks, grunting under my weight.

“Put me down,” I order.

She does, and I swat at her. She dodges me, laughing. “Just because you’re the princess,” I say, “doesn’t mean”—she grabs my wrists—“you decide what everyone does.”

I try to keep glaring at her, but I break into a smile after a few seconds. It gets even wider as she steers me to the nearest tree and wraps my arms around the back of it, kissing me and pinning me in place, my back against the trunk, her hands on my wrists, and her hips against mine. Eventually, I wrench my arms free and draw her into me. We’re a tangle of arms and legs, tied up like a knot that was never supposed to be unwound.

“You don’t get away with it just because you’re hot, either,” I say against her lips when she pulls away.

She pretends to sulk. “But that’s the opposite of what I was raised to believe,” she says, letting me go.

I walk out of the woods, mostly just to prove a point. I’m giggling, too, now, though, so when Rose chases after me and pulls me back into another kiss I don’t protest.

Her hair is messy from the wind, and her eyes are crinkled, and her coat has slid off one shoulder. Even after all this time, it still surprises me when I stop and take in just how beautiful she is. And not just physically. It strikes me, looking at her now, that I’d do anything to protect this girl. Anything she needs, I’ll do it.

“I don’t think I’d be okay without you,” I say.

Rose runs a thumb over my jaw. “You’ve got me,” she says. “You’re not going to lose me.”

“I’m one wrong move from losing you,” I say.