Page 108 of Fated


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I nudge my shoulder against his. “Arrogant.”

“Practical.”

“Persistent.”

“Loyal.”

“Idiot.”

“Friend.”

“Friend,” I agree.

Then we eat the rest of the baguettes smeared in herby brie, devour the pile of sweetly ripe strawberries, and take greedy sips of wine straight from the bottle, passing it back and forth.

As the sun slips like a golden coin beneath the indigo waters I smile at Max, tipsy and warm.

I’m full and happy, and my head is muzzily sweet. The first star winks bright as we sit under the purple sky.

Max glances over at me. I perch against his shoulder, leaning close.

“I’d like to kiss you,” Max says, his mouth close to mine.

This feels like a dream. The sky is expansive, the mountains are shrouded in night, the stars are winking to life. Behind us a centuries-old medieval village falls asleep.

“May I, Fi?” he asks, a soft question in his voice.

My heart gallops and my stomach clenches nervously.

I think of Aaron. Of the way he looks at me. Of the way he holds me. Of the way he asks if it’ll hurt when I don’t want him anymore. Of the way he tells me he’s falling.

He’s a dream.

This isn’t a dream.

This is me.

And this is Max.

“Yes,” I whisper.

And then Max leans forward, careful, slow. His hand rests against my cheek and then he brushes his lips over mine. There’s strawberry on his mouth, the soft cherry of wine, the sharpness of fresh-baked bread.

His mouth is warm. His lips are soft. And as he runs his mouth over mine my heart breaks, just a little.

Because while it’s nice, his lips caressing mine, his hand stroking through my hair—while it’s all perfectly nice, it’s not ... it doesn’t feel as if the world has stopped spinning on its axis. It doesn’t feel as if time has stood still just so I can press my mouth to his.

He pulls back then, opening his eyes, his hand still on my cheek.

He gives a smile and then says, “Well, they didn’t make it to the moon on the first trip either. It took ... how many tries?”

“It was Apollo 11,” I whisper.

“Ah. So another ten tries.”

“You didn’t feel a spark?”

“I’m not looking for a spark. I just realized you are.”

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