57. Flying
Her hair whipped behind her as they flew through the hair. Her arms were wrapped around his waist tightly, clinging to him. She felt no fear; being on a broom was second nature to her. No, she clung to him because she could never be close enough.
Her heart was pounding, but not from the height or speed. She was sitting on a broom with him, her body pressed against his. It was the best feeling in the world.
Besides flying.