Chapter 12
TWELVE
ALEXANDER
The sky is every color of red and orange and purple as we walk down to the water. I unclip the leash and Max bounds ahead, kicking up sand and arrowing to the roaring surf. I reach over and take Emerik’s magical hand in mine, and he doesn’t resist at all. We’re both ready.
Drake walks with Jessica and Hazel, arms over their shoulders, our best friends in the world. They murmur a few quiet words, but they’re mostly silent, witnessing, letting us have our fated moment. They needn’t have bothered being quiet…all I see is Emerik.
It’s like the whole world is holding its breath.
The setting sun and the pounding waves are just as they always are—lovely—but there’s a sense of anticipation, or maybe urgency, in the air.
A promise waiting to be kept. If I wanted, I could turn right now and kiss him, but no, the moment isn’t right.
We walk by a fellow sitting on a blanket in the sand, sadly pulling a feast of fruit and cheese and wine out of a small picnic basket, like he was stood up for a date. He looks up and there’s a sparkle of recognition, but it passes as we walk by.
An aging surfer with a magnificent physique and long blond hair emerges from the water, looking backward and watching Max scamper through the waves, but we all swerve so we’re not hit by his surfboard.
When he passes us, he peels down his wetsuit, exposing a broad, tan back, and jogs away to the showers.
We continue down to the water, hand-in-hand, and a pack of Navy guys jog down the beach in the distance, shirtless with cut abs and tight pecs and chiseled jawlines, heading straight toward us.
I squeeze Emerik’s hand as they rush by, a torrent of hard muscle, and together we admire their energy and dedication.
Then I know. The sun lingers in exactly the right place, edging a few stray clouds with scarlet. Max is a bundle of happy energy, scampering through the shallow surf. Our friends have run ahead, and Jessica is trying to decide if she wants to take off her shoes and join Max in foaming waves.
I stop and turn to Emerik, my talented potion-crafter.
The sunset glitters in his eyes and it’s clear he sees it too.
The time has come. I reach up and lay my hand on his cheek, gently, and pull him in for the kiss.
It’s not a passionate kiss, wet and full of lusty intention, and it’s not a friendly kiss, quick and chaste, full of shared experience.
This is a fairytale kiss, a kiss worthy of breaking a spell.
His lips are warm and inviting, mirroring all the longing I’m putting into my lips.
A tingle sparkles across my body, warming me from the top of my head down to my toes in the sand, and I know it’s done.
The spell has broken and we’ve moved from meeting to knowing. ..knowing it can only grow from here.
And then it’s over. I pull back from this perfect kiss, our first kiss, the kiss we will remember forever.
Now, it’s entirely up to us.