Later, I wished that I had called to her, that I had said I missed her as soon as she turned to walk away. I wished she had seen how I brought my hand to my cheek. Her touch shivered down my back.

Sid—”“You have a pretty voice, did you know that? Soft but earnest. Warm, too. Like a steady candle flame.

You’re beautiful,” I told her. The fountains’ jets bubbled around us.“You’re foxed,” she said.“You stare at me sometimes, too. I see you sneaking glances.

You don’t want me to be sad.”“Never sad. Not you.” She kissed me. I tasted her mouth, sweet from the bird shell, and as I kissed her I yearned for more.