I thought to myself, I knew the guy I was falling for, but the idea of someone is easier to think about than the actual person, and Peter seemed much more complicated than what I imagined him to be in my head. I envisioned him as the Romeo to my Juliet, but he was more like Clyde, and I can't even refer to myself as Bonnie because I was never an outlaw. I wanted what was passed down from Shakespeare to theaters, and now to simplistic romance novels, you would see on the shelf of your average neighborhood bookstore.

  At this point in time, looking deeply into those crystal piercing blue eyes, I wasn't sure if he could give me that. Still, in an attempt to console him, I brushed his curly wet hair back, letting my fingers glide through each strand with my gentle touch.

  I had the inkling to kiss him, as the bridge of his nose was just a few centimeters away from mine. I wanted to bridge the divide between us and give him the answer to the question he had asked me earlier, but I restrained myself because I thought the moment was not ideal. His face had a lot of revealing tells. I had never seen him in this light before, so broken and heavy-hearted. So I decided the best thing for him in that moment was just to be there. But the look he gave me made me think he felt differently than I did. Suddenly, without warning, he drew near to me. I could feel his gentle breath wanting to coexist with mine, my breathing became rapid, my pores opened up, mixing sweat together with my already wet skin, just for him to say,

  "Can I still kiss you?"

  I teased,

  "You've been staring at me like that for five minutes. You already asked. If you wait any longer, I might just change my min—."

  Before I could finish my sentence, he interrupted me with a kiss that made my insides flutter. It felt like what the new year looked like at midnight when the clock struck 12. His lips were soft and succulent to the touch, with each press against mine, it fed my body an ideal response. He now knew the flavor of my favorite lipgloss. I had never been kissed before and now I knew what he tasted like.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  There was something else that brushed up against the tip of my tongue. It was faint but metallic in taste. I ultimately realized it was the lingering blood from his previous assault but I didn't care. I didn't even hesitate, if anything I pulled myself into his kisses even more. It just showed his vulnerability in that moment and just made me want to hold onto him even longer.

  The hand I had used to comfort him was now on the nape of his neck. He allowed his hand to float down my back, stopping at my ass. Then he glided his fingers around the curvature of my waist. Each kiss felt soft but urgent. Like he needed me like a plant needed water. Everything stopped in that moment. The noise of what had happened before became quiet. All there was, was the warmth of his lips touching mine, the hammering of my heart against his smooth chest and the rhythmic pulsing of our veins. Our souls felt like they moved in perfect harmony. Then slowly he pulled away.

  My luminous eyes met his. I could see him looking at my lips whilst licking his. I felt like the poster child for that one Madonna song after that unforgettable kiss. He gently took my hands off his neck and held it in his, his forehead resting gently on mine as he said,

  "Stammel, there are billions of people in this universe and I'm glad I had the privilege of finding you!"

  My eyes fixed on his, our breath sounds were one thumbing rhythm. I left him with one last peck before I eventually said,

  "Come on, let's get out of this shithole."

  I slipped my hand under his and aided in him getting to his feet. Stepping outside onto the cracked lot in the gas station, the surrounding background noise was more audible. Through all the chaos, we didn't even notice the rain moved from a heavy downpour to a light drizzle, which made it the perfect time to make our escape.

  Something clicked in Peter's brain when he saw his bike shifted with his hinge seat up because he angrily shouted,

  "Fuck! Fuck! Those motherfuckers!"

  He loosened himself from my grasp. He limped over to his bike and frantically dug through the rubble stored in his seat storage compartment, and by the looks of it, what he wanted to find was not there.

  Confused as to what he was on about, I asked,

  "What's wrong? Did they take something?"

  He responded,

  "Those fuckers took my dough!"