“And do you believe that?” I ask. “The unscientific version?”
He looks at the water, then at me. “I’ve never been sure...” It feels like he is going to say more. Like he’s going to say,until now.
The breeze moves through the cypress trees and sends a ripple across the surface of the spring, and for a second the glow intensifies — just slightly, just briefly — and then settles back to its quiet shimmer.
I smile up at his face, at the way the water's light catches the angles of it.
“Well,” I say. “Do you think there's any truth to the legend?”
This is so much fun, not caring about my image or what others think, not calculating how it will play on social media. It's only me and a gorgeous, earnest, slightly uptight man at the edge of a glowing spring in the dark. So simple, yet so wonderful.
“Why don't we find out?” he murmurs, looking at my mouth.
And that's when he dips his head and kisses me. Warm and unhurried at first, like he's got nowhere else to be and no intention of pretending otherwise. I grin against his mouth.
“What?” he whispers.
“I love first kisses.”
He pulls me a little closer. “I love second kisses even more.”
