They finished the funnel cake in comfortable silence, Grace licking sugar off her thumb while Luke watched with an expression that made her cheeks warm.
"Stop looking at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like—" She gestured vaguely. "That."
"I like looking at you,” Luke said. "I'm allowed to look at my girlfriend, aren’t I?”
The word sent a small thrill through her chest. "Are we doing that? Labels?"
"Grace Hart." He turned to face her fully. The tips of his ears were pink. “Will you be my girlfriend?”
Luke Bennett, who had walked her to school and fixed her sink and stood on a stage in front of everyone he knew and said her name into a microphone like it was the only word that mattered, was asking her to be his girlfriend.
And he was blushing.
She would always remember this. The way he looked right now. Wrecked and hopeful and entirely hers.
"Yes." It was the easiest word in the world. "Obviously yes."
The smile that broke across his face was devastating. Unguarded and bright and entirely hers.
"I'm really looking forward to dinner with you." Grace told him.
“Yeah?" Luke stepped closer. "When? Tomorrow night? I can make reservations at?—"
“But I was thinking..." Grace's heart was suddenly racing. "Maybe we could do things a bit out of order.”
His brow furrowed. “Out of order?”
“Maybe we can skip ahead to the part where you walk me home." She looked up at him through her lashes.
Luke went very still. "Grace." His voice had gone rough. "I don't want you to think—I'm not expecting?—"
"Luke." She stepped closer, eliminating the space between them. Close enough that she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes.
His hands came to her waist, settling there.
Grace rose onto her toes and kissed him.
Right there. In the middle of the fall festival. With the smell of kettle corn and cider in the air and people everywhere and the sun still bright overhead.
Luke pulled her closer, one hand sliding up to cup the back of her head. The kiss deepened—his mouth warm and sure and hungry against hers.
Someone whistled, and they broke apart. But Luke didn’t go far.
Grace smiled against his mouth and felt him smile back.
Luke's pupils were blown wide and his grip on her waist had tightened.
"We should go," he said, voice strained. "Before I forget we're in public."
Grace laughed, giddy and bright. "Your place or mine?"
"Yours." His thumb traced her jaw. "I want to take you home. Walk you to your door like I should've done months ago."
"And then?"
