“You’ll get wet,” she said.
“So will you.”
They laughed together under the streetlight, shoulders close, hands brushing.
Neither of them pulled away.
Then one night, with the city unusually quiet and the moon bright overhead, she looked up and found him staring at her as though she were something precious.
“What?” she asked, suddenly shy.
“You do not know what you do to people,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“You make them feel seen.”
Before she could answer, he leaned closer—slowly, carefully, giving her time to stop him.
She didn’t.
Their first kiss was soft, almost uncertain, like a question neither of them wanted to answer too quickly.
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