This feels like destiny.

It feels like the stars are aligning.

The heavens are opening.

A choir is singing.

It’s intense. Passionate. Sweet. Hesitant. Lazy. Every emotion I’ve had bottled up for weeks releases with every second that ticks by.

Right now, there’s no one else around. There’s no crowd. No stage. No audience. It’s just the two of us, she and I, alone in an open meadow. She’s all I can see. All I can hear. All I can process.

My Sunflower.

All of my attention is on her and the minor details I’ve never noticed before. How our height difference doesn’t feel so substantial as I angle my neck to capture her mouth further. Deeper. The press of her chest into mine, nipples hard and pointed through the thin material of her dress. The way she’s holding onto me for dear life, both frightened and invigorated, the nails of her fingers digging into my shoulders for support, afraid of what might happen if she lets go.

I won’t let you fall, honey.

Hold on tight.

I always thought a moment like this was an unobtainable phenomenon. Kissing is the precursor to sex; a part of foreplay I indulge in but never get a lot of satisfaction from. It’s always fine. Okay. Decent enough to pass the time until clothes are shed.

It’s never been like this before; mind-altering and world-bending. A fuse short-circuiting and electrifying all my nerves. Heightening my senses. Making me content to just do this for the rest of my life.

When Jack told us he saw stars when he kissed Jo for the first time, I thought he was a liar. The clichés surrounding those beginning moments are laughable and superficial.

Turns out, the bastard is right.

This is an unearthly experience I never want to come down from. This is what the movies and books talk about; a moment so powerful, so life changing, you’re rendered speechless. Unable to compute anything except the 5’5’’, independent, determined, beautiful, ass-kicking, powerhouse blonde angel before you.

Far, far too soon, Emma pulls away, disentangling our limbs as her mouth withdraws away from mine and breaks our connection. My eyes flutter open, reluctant to return to reality. I study her face for regret or disappointment. My search reveals no sign of contrition, only the faint etchings of terror and surprise.

I’m scared shitless, too.

Fingers shaking, she touches her swollen lips, tracing the path my tongue traversed moments ago. Her skin flushes, color splotching her chest and neck. “Wow,” she whispers. “Um.” A shiver racks her body, and I step toward her, pulling my jacket tighter around her.

“Should we…” I trail off, clearing my throat. “Uh. Do you want some dessert?” I spit out the most neutral, placid topic to bring us down from the uncertainty of our kiss.

“Yeah. Okay.”