“Glow in the dark paint, basically.”

“And you painted this? All of this?” I ask.

“I started it right after ArtPrize.”

“Luckily you were avoiding some girl, and had lots of extra time on your hands,” I tease.

He laughs, but he sounds nervous. “Luckily.”

“I wish it wasn’t out in the woods. I wish everyone could see this.” I turn to look at Aiden, and he’s already looking at me. “This is amazing. You are … incredibly talented.”

Aiden leans toward me, and brushes a piece of hair away from my face. His hand feels cool against my warm cheek. He licks his lips, and the anticipation is killing me … it’s coiling around in my stomach and twisting its way down my legs. It’s rooting me in this spot like the old trees looming all around us. Like a wall of this beautiful, disheveled building that’s crumbling before us. Just thinking about kissing Aiden makes my lips part. His fingers drift to my cheek, and then to my chin, and trail down my neck. I’m fighting the urge to lean into him like a needy cat who never gets enough attention.

Then his hands are gone. He reaches over to his bag, unzips it, and digs around inside until he pulls out whatever he was looking for. “Just to keep it official,” he says, as he pulls out a coin.

“You’re carrying around a quarter now, huh?”

“It’s become a thing,” he says. His lips twitch up into a lopsided smile, and as if they’re attached, my own lips follow suit. “Consider me the official keeper of the coin.”

“Heads,” I say, eager.

“Heads for—?”

I laugh. “My choice.” Fate has been good to us, but I don’t quite trust her yet. Not with this moment.

Aiden smiles and then tosses the coin high into the air. It settles between us on the red blanket. He’s staring at it, but doesn’t say anything, so I do. “Heads.”

“Your choice.”

“My choice,” I say, leaning in toward him. I mimic what he did to me, and run my hand over his jaw and down his neck. My fingers trail down his arm and to his fingers. He turns his hand over and captures mine in his, puts our palms together. He’s pressing his hand against mine, guiding it toward him.

My hand is on his chest and I can feel his heart there, like a heavy drum, pounding against me. I leave my hand, feeling his chest rise and fall under it. His eyes are fixed on me, and my breath catches in my throat at our closeness. I don’t remember moving closer, but we’re barely separated now, just our hands pressed between us. Waiting.

“Olivia?”

I make a tiny sound, like a squeak, not a yes.

“You won.”