Together, we count down from ten, our lips getting closer with every passing second until finally the first firework explodes and her mouth is on mine. We miss the entire display. The sparks flying between us are so much brighter, so much more explosive than the bursting lights in the sky above. My hand winds into her hair, clutching her head to me in fear of her disappearing into thin air. Because, surely, she’s too good to be true. Too beautiful to ever belong to me. And yet, she does. She’s mine, just as I am hers. And I don’t ever see a time in our lives when that will be different.
