A/N: Thank you all so, so much for reading! I was so nervous about that last chapter because it's been such a long time coming and as always, I am overwhelmed by your kind words and general wonderfulness. Truly, it makes my day, especially lately.

I mentioned this in the update for Playing With Fire, but I'm saying it again here because I think it bears repeating. This year, J.K. Rowling has said some hurtful and harmful things about the trans community. She has continued to double down on her transphobia to the point that it's a fucking plot point in her latest novel. Because I participate in a fandom for a world that she created, I want to be absolutely clear about my position on this issue: trans women are women, trans men are men, and trans rights are human rights. Her views on this subject are appalling and antithetical to my values and I condemn them in the strongest possible terms. I do feel that fanfic is removed enough from her that I can still read/write, but I will not be participating in activities that directly benefit her financially because I believe what she is doing is wrong and harmful. And while I am on the subject of human rights: Black lives matter.

In conclusion, the world is a dumpster fire, but writing this fic and hearing from you all is one of the things that makes it better. I mentioned this in the PWF update, but the pandemic has been a fairly significant strain on my mental health and stress. My job is public facing and while I have a wonderful boss and great support, there's still a lot that's very difficult and I haven't always had the energy to churn out chapters like I used to. This is all to say that I'm not sure when the next chapter will be out, but please be assured I'm still writing, it's just been slow going. I hope you and your loved ones stay well.

Chapter 13: Daylight

I didn't set out to crash Alicia and Lee's first brunch as newlyweds, but in my defense:

1. They were eating in the hotel restaurant at a table that was fully visible from the hotel lobby.

2. I was walking though said lobby on my way to pick up something to eat.

3. Initially, I was simply going to continue on my way because although I was annoyed with Alicia, I am a sensible person, and I didn't want to impose on their first morning together.

4. But then Alicia happened to look up.

5. And then she made eye contact with me.

6. And instead of allowing me to proceed on my way like a normal person would have done, she gave me what could only be described as the unrepentant smile of a criminal mastermind.

7. It was at this point that I remembered that she had, in fact, betrayed me in the most outrageous way possible not even twenty-four hours ago.

8. Really, she had brought this upon herself.

So, instead of minding my own business, I made an abrupt turn into the restaurant, dodging past the empty hostess stand and hoping that it wasn't the sort of place that would immediately throw me out for being underdressed and without a reservation.

I narrowed my eyes at Alicia as I approached their table. "You."

It was perhaps one of my fiercer looks, but Alicia looked completely unbothered by it, instead sighing and turning her gaze to Lee. "I think she might've worked it out."

Lee shrugged, barely glancing up from the menu he was perusing. "I told you she would."

"It was for your own good," said Alicia to me, using the same sort of tone that you might hear in a lecture about eating your vegetables or flossing. "Fred's as well. The obvious pining was getting ridiculous."

I scoffed. "Oh please. There was no pining."

The sound that Alicia made was a bit of a cackle, an exaggerated, sarcastic Ha! that I only ever heard when she thought she had the upper hand in an argument. Lee sighed heavily and looked up at me from his menu.

"Listen, Mags," he said in a voice that sounded as though he was trying project an aura of utter reasonableness (an obvious trap), "you know I don't like taking sides in this sort of thing, but she is right about the pining. Neither one of you was especially subtle."

I scowled, crossing my arms. "You're only saying that because you don't want to be in the doghouse less than twenty-four hours into your marriage."

He raised an eyebrow and smirked in a manner that I did not care for at all. "You know that Katie and Oliver actually made a game of it? Katie got five points every time she saw you sneaking looks at Fred, Oliver got five for every time he saw Fred sneaking looks at you. The score was constantly tied because the two of you are shameless."

"It's true," said Alicia smugly.

I ignored Alicia and narrowed my eyes at Lee. "I don't believe you."

Lee's eyebrow inched higher as he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. "Do you really want to take that bet?"

"You are very clearly aligned with Alicia, who I can no longer trust to keep her promises, so I feel fairly comfortable betting against you."

Lee looked mildly puzzled. "Not sure I follow that logic."

Alicia cleared her throat. "Technically I only said I would take a rain check on a conversation about your various concerns about your romantic life. I never said I wouldn't give Fred a bottle of champagne and tell him to get on with it already."

I turned to her with narrowed eyes. "You can't possibly believe that a mere technicality of language justifies your complete and utter betrayal."

She snorted into her orange juice. "Oh, go on, it was hardly a betrayal, you melodramatic ninny. And besides—" Here her grin turned a little sly and self-satisfied in a way that made me feel as though I was about to lose the argument. "—how'd that turn out for you?"

There is no quicker path to losing the upper hand in your dramatic interruption of your cousin's post nuptial brunch than having to admit to said cousin that her harebrained, nonsensical champagne ploy had, in fact, been successful.

I scowled and slouched slightly, some of the fight going out of me. "We've a date tonight."

Alicia's eyes lit up, her expression betraying nothing but glee and unguarded joy as she clapped her hands together, grinning widely. She looked genuinely happy for me in a way that I hadn't seen in a while. It was almost enough to make up for the fact that I was a little annoyed with her.

Almost.

"Oh, this is brilliant!" she said. "Where is he taking you? Was there kissing? Never mind, your face says it all, there was definitely kissing."

My cheeks were burning. "You are the most embarrassing person on the face of the earth."

"Brace yourself, Mags: it's about to get more embarrassing," said Lee cheerfully, waving at someone behind me. "Katie, Oliver, I need you as character witnesses."

"That may be a bit beyond our abilities," said Oliver as he and Katie approached the table. "We're not miracle workers."

"It's quite simple," said Lee, "I just need you to confirm that you did indeed create an elaborate game where points were awarded based on entirely obvious flirting between Maggie and Fred."

Katie sighed and gave me a mildly apologetic look before turning to Lee and smacking him on the arm. "I thought I was quite clear that you were not to repeat that, you absolute tosser."

"The people deserve the truth," said Lee, attempting to dodge her and mostly failing.

Katie swatted at Lee again before turning back to me. "Sorry, Maggie," she said with an expression that was a little contrite, but mostly amused. "We couldn't resist."

"We're both very competitive," said Oliver, offering a charming smile that quite frankly made it difficult to be mad at him. "It comes out in odd ways."

"But never mind that," said Katie quickly, her eyes sparkling. "I've been dying to know how the Great Champagne Caper turned out."

My jaw dropped as I turned to Alicia. "You gave it a code name?"

"Oh, keep your hair on, it was retroactive." She rolled her eyes at me before grinning and turning to Katie. "It was a smashing success; they've got a date tonight."

Katie squealed and flung her arms around me in a hug. "Oh, I'm so glad! You're absolutely adorable together, I can barely stand it."

Oliver gave me a very solemn look, wrinkling his nose just a little. "It's a little bit disgusting, to be honest."

I couldn't help it: my lip twitched as I tried not to smile.

"HA!" said Alicia, pointing at me dramatically and nearly overturning her orange juice in the process. "I saw that: you smiled."

I pressed my lips together. "Barely. And that doesn't mean I've forgiven you, Alicia Renee."

"Oh, stuff it, Maggie, we all heard your speech yesterday, you adore me."

There was so much light in her eyes, that same unguarded joy that I'd noticed earlier. It was telling, that light—it wasn't just happiness, but a glimpse into how much my silly, meddling cousin genuinely wanted good and wonderful things for me. In that moment, I remembered how fiercely I loved her and all the tens of thousands of ways she had shaped my life. Maybe I would forgive her, I grudgingly admitted to myself. Maybe I hadn't been all that annoyed with her to begin with.

But maybe she was also going to be insufferable about this, so maybe I'd play up the being annoyed part of it just for the time being. I made a big show of rolling my eyes and sighing heavily. "Well, this has been hilarious, but I think it's time for me to find coffee and breakfast so I can start plotting my revenge."

Alicia smiled in a knowing way and I had half a notion that my strategy hadn't really worked. "We'll speak later so you can give me all the relevant details."

I tried my best to look entirely disinterested as I began to walk away. "I'll think about it," I said over my shoulder.

"You love me!" she called loudly after me. I tried not to cringe as I felt the gazes of half the people in the restaurant turn to me. So much for an unobtrusive exit.

I left the restaurant with every intention of heading outside and finding a reasonably priced breakfast place where I could sit and have a moment to think. I was practically buzzing with a happy, giddy sort of anxiety that simultaneously made me want to smile until my face split in half and also run to my bed and hide under the covers until my hummingbird heart could calm itself just a little. It was exhilarating and exhausting and I needed a moment to just stop and think, to process everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours.

But it seemed as though I was tempting fate by even considering such a thing, because instead of finding a breakfast place that was well-suited for this exercise, I walked out of the restaurant and very nearly crashed into Fred.

It was rather incredible how one person could completely upend my entire sense of composure. I'd thought I'd felt giddily anxious without being under the direct influence of Fred—with Fred in the same room, I became an absolutely dizzying mess of feelings. My cheeks were burning and my stomach was doing an elaborate gymnastic routine of somersaults and backflips, one right after the other. I felt like I wanted to run away because I was so nervous, but I also wanted to throw myself into his arms because it had been so many hours since we'd last kissed and I was already fully addicted to the feeling.

His hair was a bit rumpled, clearly still fresh from the shower, and he was carrying what looked like a pastry bag and two cups of coffee.

Of course.

"Just the person I was hoping to see," he said, handing me one of the coffees before I could even string together the words to object. "And to be clear," he said, lowering his voice like he was sharing a secret, his eyes dancing with impish mischief, "the coffee is because I fancy you."

I had thought Fred was dizzyingly charming before all of this, but the effect of his charm was several billion times more intense when he was openly flirting with me. It was roughly the difference between a popping balloon and a nuclear bomb.

I did my best to give him a stern look because it was the only way I could be sure I wouldn't melt away in the hotel lobby. "Are you going to let me pay for this, you incorrigible flirt?"

His smile widened, which did no favors for my pounding heart and wobbly legs. "Well, I wouldn't be an incorrigible flirt if I let you pay for it, now would I?"

"You're not talking your way out of this—you're letting me pay for dinner tonight."

"Interesting theory," he said, giving me a bit of a smirk as he held up the pastry bag. "Come have brunch with me on the beach and I'll consider it."

I raised an eyebrow. "You're blackmailing me into brunch?"

He gave a very put-upon sigh. "Maggie, there is a difference between blackmail and bribery, and this is clearly bribery."

"You say that like one is preferable over the other."

"Well, we both get something out of bribery. Blackmail's a bit more complicated." His brow furrowed slightly as his gaze shifted to a point just over my shoulder. "Did you know that your cousin is doing a rather elaborate victory dance in the restaurant behind you?"

I sighed heavily and decided I would not give Alicia the satisfaction of seeing me turn around. "She's in rare form today. I am plotting my revenge as we speak."

"Well, all the more reason to have brunch on the beach with me. I am well versed in revenge plots of all kinds and I am confident that my unique skillset will be a tremendous asset to you in that endeavor." He leaned in and lowered his voice. "See? That is clearly bribery."

Try as I might, I couldn't stop myself from smiling. "You present an intriguing argument."

He raised an eyebrow, still grinning. "Is that a yes?"

"I think you know it is."

"Well, come on then."

We walked out onto the beach together and found a spot a little way down the shore, well-shaded by a little grove of palm trees and partly hidden by some boulders whose placement looked a little too artful and tidy to be purely natural.

I felt twitchy with a nervous sort of energy as I sat down on the sand, my heart hammering against my ribs like mallets on a xylophone and my fingers tapping out a restless rhythm against my legs. I buried my feet in the sand, like this would somehow keep me grounded in this upside-down reality where I felt entirely unused to everything. Even the fact that I didn't have to hide my crush on Fred was so new and strange that I had to keep reminding myself of it. Maybe if I just got used to that part of it, I'd feel a little more put together, a little less like I was completely out of my depth.

This theory was immediately disproven with one look at Fred's whiskey eyes as he sat down next to me on the sand. I was entirely out of my depth; in contrast, he looked entirely relaxed. It was completely unfair.

Thankfully, he seemed to be unaware of my inner turmoil. For once.

"Right," he said, gesturing rather extravagantly at the pastry bag he was holding, "do you know what this is?"

"Brunch that may or may not be blackmail?"

"You're baiting me," he said, wagging a finger at me. "I have in my possession what is purported to be the most excellent breakfast sandwich in the known universe."

I laughed. Of course. "I see you've been talking to Uncle Pete."

"My understanding is that it is difficult to talk to Pete Spinnet and not hear about these breakfast sandwiches," he said. "My expectations are so overinflated at this point that I think he may have set me up for crushing disappointment." He raised one finger. "However, that's not the important part. The important part is that before I give you one of these life changing sandwiches, we need to agree on something."

I raised my eyebrows and took a sip of my coffee. "Is this where the bribery-not-blackmail part of this comes in?"

"Cheeky," he said bumping his shoulder against mine. "No, this is simply ensuring that we are on the same page and have the same expectations."

I tried to look cool, even though my heart had crawled up somewhere to the vicinity of my throat because what else could that mean but something horrible? "Okay."

He cleared his throat and looked at me very seriously. "So: this may be a date."

My stomach dropped a bit. I had sort of been under the impression that it was a date—or at least sort of a date. Had I misread things already? I knew I would be a mess, but not this much of a mess. This seemed like too obvious of a fuckup, even for me. Fuck.

Okay. Deep breath.

"Oh?" I was trying to sound cool and calm and I was hoping that he didn't know me well enough to know that the slight roughness in my voice was a clue that I was teetering on the verge of panic.

"See, here's my conundrum," he said. "I only got you to agree to the one date tonight. So, if we call this a date, you could very well flee the country and stand me up tonight because technically, you've fulfilled your end of the agreement."

I found myself backsliding from the verge of panic into a rather embarrassed sort of relief. Maybe I wasn't as hopeless as I thought. I mean, I was still some amount of hopeless, but perhaps a more reasonable amount. I took a sip of my coffee, hoping that the gesture would hide the three-ring circus of chaos that was currently playing out in my mind. "Then why ask me to brunch at all?"

"A few reasons. One: I enjoy your company." He gave me a cheeky grin and I had to look away because I was definitely blushing again. "Two: I did want to make sure that you hadn't had second thoughts and fled the country in the middle of the night. And three, it had the added benefit of increasing your coffee debt and you know I can't turn down that opportunity."

"You are going to let me make good on that debt," I said, looking back at him and trying my very best to appear stern.

He was utterly unrepentant. "Here's the thing: the more I add to your coffee debt, the more flustered and indignant you get about it." His eyes glinted with mischief. "And it so happens that that reaction is extremely adorable, so I've absolutely no incentive to not buy you coffee."

My cheeks were burning. "Flattery will get you nowhere, sir."

His smile never faltered. "Well, it's getting me somewhere: you're blushing. Which, incidentally, is also adorable." He took a sip of his coffee. "But my main point is that this can only turn into a date if you can promise me that you'll still show up for our other date tonight."

I gave him a slight smile, my cheeks still warm. "I think I can promise that."

"Good."

There was a hint of a smile at his lips, a slight relaxing of his shoulders, like he had been expecting me to bolt and was relieved when I didn't. As wrapped up as I'd been in my own thoughts and feelings, I hadn't really thought much about whether Fred might be nervous as well.

And it seemed like maybe…maybe he was also a little nervous in his own way.

Something about that made it just a little easier to breathe.

"Well, now that we have that sorted…" He opened the pastry bag and offered it to me. "…we can go about the important business of being disappointed by these breakfast sandwiches."

"They're not entirely oversold," I said, taking a sandwich from the bag and carefully unwrapping it. "I'd say it's about ninety-five percent as good as he says it is—he mostly exaggerates how incomparable it is to what you can find back home."

"I'm holding you to that assessment," he said, taking the bag from me and removing his own sandwich. He carefully peeled back the wax paper and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully for a moment.

"What's the verdict?" I asked after he finished chewing.

"I think ninety-five percent is about right," he said. "It's good, but I don't think I'd book a Portkey just to pick one up, which your uncle implied was a strong possibility."

"I'm fairly certain Aunt Lynn won't allow that."

"Oh, she was quite clear that she wouldn't. I believe the phrase 'an absurd waste of money' was used more than once."

"Sounds about right."

We were quiet for a moment as we ate. Silences with Fred were usually all right and this one clearly existed out of practicality, but I hadn't entirely conquered the nervousness that had been plaguing me for most of the morning. Everything was so strange and unfamiliar, and I hadn't the slightest idea what to make of it, let alone how to navigate it. What exactly was the protocol when a handsome man asks you to a brunch date several hours before your actual date? What was he hoping to get out of this? How long before he realized that I was just as messy and stupidly complicated as I'd said I was?

The questions balanced on the tip of my tongue, but I wasn't quite sure if I was brave enough to ask them.

I glanced over at Fred and found him looking at me, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

"Why do I have the sneaking suspicion that you're worrying about something?" he asked.

It was rather extraordinary how his keen powers of perception could be simultaneously likable and wildly inconvenient.

"I was just…I…" I cleared my throat and started again. "You have to understand that all of this is just…a lot and I'm…I'm just trying to wrap my brain around all of it. Or any of it, really."

"Is it really all that difficult to believe? The clues were all there. Some more obvious than others."

"So you say."

There was the hint of a sly smile on his lips. "Shall I provide you with an itemized list of all the times I ought to have kissed you this week?"

My cheeks burned, but it was hard not to smile. "I mean, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious."

The hint of a sly smile had morphed into a cheeky grin. "I'd like nothing more than to provide you with this information." He paused and thought for a moment as he took a bite of his sandwich. "First time was when I walked you back from the club."

I raised an eyebrow. Of all the quiet moments we'd had over the past week, I hadn't expected that one to include any romantic subtext—largely because of how it had concluded. "Was that before or after I was sick in the rubbish bin?"

"After. When we were talking."

"You're not serious," I said through a bit of a laugh.

He grinned and shrugged, completely unfazed by my bafflement. "What can I say? You're an alluring woman, Maggie Carlyle."

"You've a funny notion of alluring, Fred Weasley."

He chuckled and took a sip of his coffee. "Well, it occurred to me in the moment that perhaps the timing wasn't quite right. Timing was an issue for the second one as well."

"And what was that?"

"The hike. When we were talking after you got up the hill."

I gave him another skeptical look. "I was sweaty, bleeding, and I nearly fainted on you."

He gave me a slow smile that made my heart somersault in my chest. "Trust me, there was a lot to like about that moment."

"You really are an incorrigible flirt." I was trying to play it cool, but I had a feeling my cheeks were a little too pink to lend much credence to that illusion—and based on Fred's decidedly too pleased look, my feeling didn't seem to be entirely off base.

"Like I said, you're giving me very little incentive to stop." He smiled like he had a notion of how charming he was and the effect that it had on me. "Then there was the night with the biscuits on my terrace and several times on the night with the wine."

It didn't seem possible for me to flush more than I already was, but I somehow found a way and his smile widened. "You were thinking about it then, weren't you?"

I cleared my throat and crumpled up the wax paper from my sandwich. "Maybe."

"'Maybe' sounds fairly guilty, Miss Carlyle." He raised an eyebrow and held out his hand to take the crumpled-up paper, which he promptly vanished along with the empty pastry bag.

My entire face was on fire. "Fine. Yes, I was. I just…I'd thought if anything…it would've been a sort of one off that we never spoke of again. That sort of thing."

He laughed gently and leaned in like he was telling me a secret. "Maggie, even if that had been my intention, having now kissed you several times, I can say unequivocally that it wouldn't have been a one off. It's far too good to be a one off."

The way that he was looking at me made me feel like nothing else existed outside of his whiskey eyes and slow smile and the smell of cinnamon and something woodsy mixed with sun and salt. It was wonderful and a little terrifying and my heart continued tapping that giddy rhythm against my chest like it didn't quite know what to do about it.

He was worrying his lower lip slightly like he might be thinking. There was a flicker of uncertainty, so quick I almost missed it; he hesitated and then he was reaching forward and slowly covering my hand with his. His hand was warm against mine and my breath hitched.

"Is this okay?" he asked softly.

I tore my eyes away from his to look at our hands on the sand. Was it okay? It felt okay. A little dizzying, maybe, but in a good way. I paused for a moment before slowly turning my hand over so that our palms pressed together, letting my fingers thread through his. My heart was pounding as I looked at our clasped hands. It was such a simple thing, my hand in his, but it felt a little like a miracle. Twenty-four hours ago, I couldn't have imagined this happening. I couldn't have imagined Fred saying that he wanted to kiss me, let alone actually kissing me—and in fact, when I'd woken that morning, I half-believed that I'd dreamed it all. It was too wonderful, too unlikely, surely the sort of fantastical thing that only a sleeping mind could come up with.

And yet, here we were. His gaze was careful, but simultaneously so completely genuine and utterly free from judgment that it took me aback a little. It was dizzying in an entirely different way—it was wonderful and strange, baffling and beautiful, wrapped in a package of giddying contradictions that made my head spin.

"Yeah," I said. "Very okay."

"Good." He smiled and squeezed my hand. "Then of course there was the fireworks show."

I raised an eyebrow. "I'm beginning to think you're only attracted to me when I'm embarrassing myself."

His smile was slight. "I'm attracted to you because you're you, Maggie. It's a pretty constant factor."

It was—annoyingly—the perfect thing to say, but I had to go and muck it up. "Why me, though?" came tumbling out of my mouth before I could think about it and as soon as I said it, I realized I was a little afraid of the answer.

Maybe some people would've taken that question poorly or thought it was rude, but Fred just gave me a disbelieving sort of smile and said, "What do you mean, why you?"

I shrugged, feeling rather embarrassed. "I wouldn't think that I'm your type."

"And what exactly do you think my type is?"

"Louder, for starters. Probably someone who does something very dangerous for a living, like wrangle dragons or raise venomous plants. Hobbies include running up mountains, skydiving, general thrill seeking."

He laughed. "You're rather off the mark."

"Am I? What is your type, then?"

"I've always been partial to clever girls who can make me laugh. Brainy. Sweet but a little sarcastic." He raised an eyebrow. "I had a bit of a thing for you when we were in school, you know."

I gave him a look. "You're having me on."

"Nope. It is the honest truth," he said, raising his right hand as though he was swearing an oath. "I thought you were pretty. Still do, as a matter of fact."

I was fairly certain that I was blushing to the tips of my toes. I was a human shaped blush, the concept of flattered self-consciousness made flesh. "Well, you never said anything."

He shrugged. "I dunno, part of me thought it would be too much of a long shot—smart, pretty girls with good heads on their shoulders generally have enough sense to avoid cutups. And I wasn't single when you were and vice versa." He gave me another slow smile that I was certain was going to be my undoing. "Always hoped things might work out with that, though."

There was brief pause. He was studying my face, his gaze careful like he was trying to sort something out in his mind.

"All right?" I asked after a moment.

"Yeah," he said, a slight smile playing at his lips. "Just recalling another time that I wanted to kiss you."

"Yeah? When was that?"

"On the beach. Right now."

My breath caught in my throat. He was looking at me with a quiet intensity that made me glad I was sitting down because surely I would be swooning otherwise.

I cleared my throat. "So…erm…" I was trying to think of something clever to say, but my capacity for thought was almost entirely sidelined by the fact that he was looking at me like that and holding my hand.

"Should we do something about that?" he asked quietly after a moment.

This felt more intimate than what had transpired on my terrace the night before. In the bright daylight of late morning, there were no shadows to hide behind—I could have counted the freckles on his face if I wanted to. It was jarring, but in a good way, a way that made that question easier to answer, that made me want to fall into his arms.

I nodded, my heart pounding. "Yeah."

His smile was slight as he studied my face, one hand carefully reaching up and tucking an errant strand of hair behind my ear, then lingering, thumb tracing my cheek and jawbones. His hand cupped my cheek, sliding to the back of my neck, drawing me closer as he leaned in and his fingers threaded through my hair.

It was soft and slow, quite different from the night before. His tongue brushed against my lower lip and I found my lips parting of their own accord. He tasted like coffee and it made me want to lean into him, draw him deeper, press myself closer. For the first time that day, my mind was blissfully blank, like some part of my soul was fundamentally at ease because this was where I was supposed to be. I was memorizing the taste and feel of his lips, the smell of cinnamon and something woodsy up close, his hand in my hair.

I couldn't have told you whether it was a minute or a month later when he drew back just a little, still holding me close, his forehead resting against mine.

"I think this has officially turned into a date," he said, raising an eyebrow and giving me a slight smile. "Especially if you let me keep kissing you."

"I mean…I don't mind if you don't."

"You're sure?" he asked.

"Yes."

"You're not going to stand me up later tonight?"

"No."

"Or flee the country?"

"No."

"Flee the country, change your name, and assume an entirely new identity?"

"No."

"What about—"

But he stopped talking abruptly because I had started kissing him again. I felt him smile against my lips as he kissed me back and it made me wonder if that had been his plan all along.

I didn't mind at all.