It takes a moment to sink in, but then my chest is hot, a star growing larger and larger. He means a beginning like us. And this realization is so big and bursting, so completely right, that it completely outshines every other reason I’m here. Whether or not we find the letter, I know for a fact that Mason and I are meant to be on this rooftop right at this moment.

“I know,” I say, and then a smile spreads across his face, and neither of us looks away, the moment charged and full.

Mason stands, then puts his hand out and pulls me to my feet. We’re both smiling at each other, the night air pressing us gently toward each other. “Come on. Let’s go find the letter.”

I follow him, my hand tight in his. The letter suddenly feels very small compared to what is happening between us.

This is happening, isn’t it? It’s so unexpected and perfect, I almost can’t believe it’s real. How is it possible I stumble upon a boy on a rooftop one night, and it’s Mason? Does real life work like this?

We don’t make it all that far. Mason climbs down the ladder first, me following, but when he gets to the bottom, I hear him stop, and when I turn to see what he’s doing, he’s waiting with a hand on either side of the ladder. I lower myself a few more rungs, then turn around, pressing my back into the ladder. Moonlight from the rooftop window is shining down on us like a spotlight, lighting up his face, and for once Mason and I are eye to eye. The mermaid painting is over his shoulder, and even though it’s barely an outline in the darkness, suddenly I am very aware of Thalia’s ocean.

Neither of us looks away.

It’s only a few seconds that we stand there, but it’s all it takes for the swirling in my center to rise, the ocean waves to crash in hard. I feel the craggy rock against my skin, salt air whipping through my hair, and an urgency and boldness that is brand-new.

I know what I want. I want Mason.

The first kiss is easy. As soon as I find Mason’s mouth in the darkness, he presses into me, my arms making their way around his neck while his encircle my waist. It’s the second kiss that builds in heat until Mason is leaning up against me, the ladder hard against my back, and I’ve lost absolutely every thought except for this. My body was made to melt into his—his back warm under my hands, his mouth soft against mine. Mason is carefully lifting me off the ladder, mouth still on mine, when I hear it.

Deep in the house a door opens, and then a voice. “Willow?”