45

We're already dating.

He's already mine.

And still... I feel like I'm about to pass out.

We're in my backyard, lying on a blanket we always use, under fairy lights that make everything look prettier than real life. My heart's fluttering like it knows something's coming.

Luca's beside me, propped on one elbow, tracing invisible circles on my hand.

And I can feel it.

The question buzzing between us.

The kiss.

Our kiss.

The real one.

Not a forehead press.

Not a brush of fingers.

A real, actual, lips-on-lips, I'm-yours-you're-mine kind of kiss.

"You're staring," I whisper, cheeks burning.

"I can't help it," he says.

"Why?"

"Because you look like everything good I've ever wanted and I'm scared if I blink, I'll miss it."

Cue heart: detonating.

I blink away the fluster. Look at him. Really look.

He's nervous too.

His foot keeps tapping. His thumb is twitching.

And his ears-oh God-his ears are pink.

"Luca," I say, soft.

"Yeah?"

"You can kiss me now."

His whole body stills.

He doesn't move right away.

Just stares like I hung the moon, tucked the stars in, and whispered the sky to sleep.

Then-

Slowly-

He leans in.

And it's magic.

Not fireworks.

Not chaos.

Just warmth.

Like curling into clean sheets.

Like slipping into your favorite song.

His lips touch mine gently-so gently I almost miss it.

And then again, firmer this time.

Like he's sure now.

Like he knows I want this too.

My fingers tangle in the front of his hoodie.

His hand cups my cheek.

And we both smile into it, like idiots.

Giddy.

Glowing.

Ours.

When we pull apart, I can't even look at him.

I'm grinning too hard. Blushing like my whole face is on fire.

So, of course, he says:

"That was... that was definitely top five best moments of my life."

"Top five?"

"Gotta leave room in case you ever kiss me again."

"You're so dumb."

"You're so beautiful."

"Stop."

"Never."

He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, thumb brushing the shell lightly.

"You taste like mangoes."

"You always say that."

"Because it's true. Mangoes and sunshine."

"You're literally blushing harder than I am."

"Impossible. I am a man of mystery and calm composure."

"You tripped on the way up the porch."

"Gravity betrayed me out of jealousy."

We're both giggling now.

Blushing.

High on each other.

Wrapped in soft light, late-night quiet, and something that feels a lot like falling in love.

And when he kisses me again?

It's deeper.

Sweeter.

And still just the beginning.

---------------------------------------------------

I'm in my room.

The lights are off.

My blanket is up to my ears.

My phone is in my hand.

And I.

Am.

Screaming.

Silently.

Like a respectful teenage girl in a house with sleeping parents.

But inside?

There is chaos. Fireworks. Full Broadway musical.

I kissed him.

I kissed him.

LUCA CHURCHILL.

MY BOYFRIEND.

WITH THE COLLARBONES AND THE VOICE AND THE RIDICULOUSLY PRETTY EYES.

AND HE KISSED ME BACK.

I roll over and punch my pillow.

"I hate him," I whisper.

"No, I don't."

"I love him."

"Oh my God."

My phone lights up.

India : "U still alive?"

Egypt : "Tell me you kissed him. I feel it. I feel it in the moon."

I send a voice note.

And immediately regret it.

"Guys. Guys. I kissed him. I don't know what happened. My body moved. My mouth was like 'let's go' and my brain just sat there clapping like a seal."

India: [voice note] "YOU KISSED HIM YOU KISSED HIM YOU KISSED-"

Egypt: "Did you touch his hair? Did he smell like money? Did he whisper something rich and poetic?"

"He said I taste like mangoes."

Egypt: "OH MY GOD THAT'S EVEN WORSE."

I hide under the covers.

There are still stars outside.

But somehow it feels like one of them climbed down just to sit in my chest and warm me from the inside out.

Because he kissed me like I mattered.

Like I wasn't broken.

Like I wasn't hard to love.

Like I wasn't too much or not enough.

Just Senna.

His Senna.

I whisper the words to myself like they're secrets I'm scared the night will steal.

"He kissed me."

"He kissed me."

"He kissed me like he meant it."

And I can't stop smiling.

I fall asleep with the sketchbook beside me.

And a smile on my lips.

And the quiet kind of hope that hums like a lullaby.