I started to cross the street, touching my fingers to my lips. The heat of his mouth hadn’t yet faded, and as Luka sidled in next to me, I hid my shaking hands in the pockets of my jacket. It didn’t matter if, for the first time in my life, a kiss actually meant something, that I actually wanted more than anything to kiss him again. This was who we were, and I didn’t want to do anything to lose that. It was enough. It had to be, because more than anything, I didn’t want to be someone he needed to survive.
