I had no idea what I was doing. Quite literally. I had few experiences within my twenty-four years on this earth that involved kissing, hand holding, and extra intimate mannerisms. Does one tilt their head? Tongue or no? Hands ran through hair? Stand on tip-toes? Just do it!

I know how to do this! So, what if it's been awhile . . . close to four years. It's like swimming, hold your breath, move be in the moment. And hope for the best!

I stood up, waited for August to turn around. To kiss. And well, I did it! I felt his lips. Warmth from his cheeks, our noses next to each other.

But gosh! I seemed frozen.

This was awkward.

Crap! I'm doing it all wrong. He's going to pull away. I'm wrong so so so wrong.

His thumb grazed my cheek. He started to move his face.

I was right. He doesn't think of me like – I overstepped the boundary.

I moved too. Backwards. Away.

All the while, August leaned forward, trying to advance the kiss. His forehead bumped against the side of my head. Fast and heavy . . . since I thought he was moving the opposite way.

"Ah!" I rubbed on the left side of my head.

"Ope," August replied. Bone on bone. Skin on skin. His hand began to massage his forehead. Redness glowed blossoming like a hidden secret becoming known.

"I'm sorry," I stated out of reflex. Ignoring my own short pain, I leaned closer to August. My fingers touched his forehead, hovering over the area in a gentle tap. He winced.

I jumped at his reaction.

August laughed. "It's okay."

"No, it's not. Where are your ice packs – or frozen veggies –"

While I was talking, I turned left to right in the same spot. My body wanted to fix the situation, go do something, however my mind tumbled over all the thoughts making me incoherent. Where was the paramedic, who had trained for twenty-four hours to respond and be avidly attentive in the face of conflict. People screaming, knowing what questions to ask to retrieve vital information. Blood, sickness, emergency. And here I stood. Paralyzed. I couldn't help a small bump injury . . . because I caused it? Or was it because of who it was?

August's tender touch made me flinch, it was a brief warmth, as he tapped me on the shoulder. His hand opened and held out for me to choose.

"Sugar," August said, "I'm okay. It was a little bump. How's yours? I think you got it worse since you were on the receiving end."

I don't know . . . I kind of jumped you. Or should I say face planted on your face?

"I'm alright." I waved my hands.

August scratched his neck. We were closer, but not at the close distance as the kiss.

He smells like warm fabric . . . the kind when the laundry just got done, the heat and cashmere. Nice and safe.

"I promise," I replied, pulling out of my thoughts. My hands pushed together and hovered in front of my waist. "A-And I understand if you're angry at me. I shouldn't-"

"Why would I be angry?"

I paused.

Well, I did kiss you without your permission. I keep running my tongue on the inside of my cheek to taste you more. And I want to do it again.

"For kissing." I almost added an inflection to indict a question. "I-I know we have our differences. I also know with the raw emotion you shared with me, I shouldn't push my feelings on you. I've crossed the line and . . . "

I didn't want to apologize. I really didn't. I needed to because I had no right to. I wanted to respect him.

August placed his hands over his face. Weird noises, "Oh my," "ah," and "you got to be," exasperated. His hands rubbed his eyelids, and licking his lips, then he pulled his hands to his side. He stared at me.

"You've done nothing wrong."

"You trusted me – and I was selfish –"

"Sugar," he kept his eyes on me.

"I know how it is. Feeling non-existent. My biological mom – she called that day when you held onto me. You asked to make sure I was okay. And, she came back into my life. I despised her, I really didn't want to acknowledge her. But the more I listened. The more I spent time with her. I realized . . . what I mean is, I understand what you've been through. I didn't mean to – I have no right to take advantage of the situation."

"Sugar," he whispered again. A half grin formed on his lips. "I like you."

It was quiet. A new instrumental song played over the speakers, a calm soprano flute sang the same note before taking off in the melody.

He likes me?

"You mean," my throat constricted, "a friend, right?"

I read it all wrong. The signs. The fact he opened up to me. The similar story, we shared. One parent leaving us to fend against the world and us having to pick up the shattered glass.

"I like you," he stated, "I might even be falling for you. I know that's freakin' cliché. It sounds like a romcom or a line one of our writers wrote for our documentary. I just – I'm not sure what I'm feeling. I just know I want to spend more time with you. Ice skating some more. Teach me how to play Ms. Pacman. I can teach you how to play pinball. Go on dates. . . kiss you. I want to be with you."

My breathing pattern changed. Quick breaths.

"You mean it?" I whispered.

Does he tell this to all the women he has met? He has seen? Is this a part of his online dating game?

"Yes." He grinned.

"You're not faking it?"

"I'm not. Are you?" he asked, a nice, soft tone. It was a whisper. I believed I heard it. The question faded along with his voice. His eyes stared into mine. Clear blue. The sky swallowed me whole. And I accepted it . . . allowing it to happen.

I stood on my toes, pressing my forehead against his. My warm breath hit his skin reflecting back in my face. "I'm here. I'm not faking it."

I looked down. At our shoes. Two different kinds, navy close toed shoes and my open toed sandals. I put one clear coat on my nails, to give it that extra shine, because somehow it would've won him over . . . or completed the look. I highly doubted it was the winning point.

It was my heart.

And his.

My nose grazed his cupid's bow near his lips. I breathed in peppermint.

Our height difference added layers to this weird jigsaw puzzle. I tried to reposition to make myself taller, instead the height stayed the same. The back of my ankles throbbed.

August chuckled.

I felt the deep vibrations underneath my hand. I leaned against his chest to stay upright. I half regretted my placement. The crème shirt was soft under my touch, my fingers dug into the cotton fabric.

"Here, I can help."

He leaned forward, bending his knees. We were eye-leveled. My nose no longer in his cupid's bow, instead touched the tip of his nose. I noticed his was a little longer and wider bridge compared to my smaller bridge and oval shape.

His eyes watched. "Better?"

"Yeah."

This time, I placed my arms over his shoulders. There was a twitch in my fingers, I disconnected his gaze, looked anywhere but his eyes. I felt like he saw everything in me. The messy. The thoughts. Judgment. Kind. Protective person I believed myself to be.

He laughed once more.

That got my attention.

"What?"

"It's cute to see you all frazzled. Overthinking."

"How do you know I'm overthinking? I'm not."

"That's the first lie you've said tonight, Lollipop."

I frowned. "Hey, I'm not lying. And I thought you said you weren't going to call me Lollipop anymore. We agreed."

My sentences fell short.

He leaned in for another kiss. This time slow and soft. The kind that lingered, he left space for me to decide. I felt his hot breath on my lips, I could taste – I filled the gap. One hand ran through his brunette hair, fingers weaved and continued the pattern. His hand placed on my cheek.

The thoughts disappeared.

All I thought was August.

Here. And now.

The peppermint. Being able to be in the moment. Closing my eyes, trusting his movement and both leaned into each other.

Until.

I moved.

His hand was now on my shoulder. His lips swollen, a darker pinkish tint.

His chest rose and fell. His sweater somehow got on the couch behind us.

"What?" he gasped.

"I thought you were going to order pizza." I bit my bottom lip.

A moan escaped August. He pulled me closer, placing his chin on my right shoulder. His hands wrapped around my waist.

"We will. In just one moment," he whispered. A trail of light, ticklish kisses started on my ear and traveled down my neck.

"Promise?"

"I promise."

' ' ' ' ' '

A half cheese and Hawaiian pizza later, we cuddled under the maroon and violet quilt on his couch. The television on. Playing the teaser and extra footage the team had captured during this whole project. I wrapped my leg around August's right jean leg, his hand behind my shoulder blades keeping me up straight against the comfortable couch. In his left hand, he had the crust of his latest slice. His jaw tight. He glanced over to see how I was doing. His thumb rubbed my shoulder.

I had a paper plate on my lap overtop of the blanket. Grease on my fingers. I licked them off, engrossed in the film. My hair disheveled. My dress had a few more wrinkles than before, not as much as August's crème shirt.

"Gosh, it's so weird seeing me on the screen. We might have to shut it off. It almost feels like an out of body experience happening," I grimaced.

"An out of body experience?"

"Yeah!" I declared, "You know, like the ones in chick flicks about ghosts or the main character is in a coma. And the character can see herself in a third person point of view."

"I wouldn't have thought of that one." August nodded. "That makes sense."

"Ah! I mean, look."

I pointed to my face on the screen. My perfect symmetric hair, foundation evenly distributed, my matted lipstick seemed off and different for me. My speech sounded higher, actually a half-step octave higher than what I heard my voice as. The other Sugar was speaking, something about how this experience changed her as a person. Which was half-truth. Some of the dialogue, the writers prompted me. The rest was me.

"Listen to that voice. It sounds different from mine."

"All our voices sound different than what we hear."

"I know. It's because we hear the vibrations through our ear canals and also hear it from our mouths when we talk. It's just. I can't seem to wrap my mind around the idea," I said.

August smiled.

He started to play with the ends of my hair, I took another bite of my cheese pizza. Trying. So hard to ignore the ticklishness between his touches. His index and middle fingers would twirl the ends. His right side against mine, I couldn't believe he was here. My stomach felt warm like I had taken two shots of tequila. My whole body temperature turned up, really, I didn't need the covers.

I enjoyed him caressing me. It was tender.

He kissed the top of my head.

"The one on the screen is a part of you. I like her. You right here, you're being yourself. Being open. Sharing about your mom." He paused. "And your Mama. And I hope to learn more about you."

He remembered Mama. I hope I'll learn more about you, too.

"Ditto," I whispered.

I kissed him.

He kissed back. Even with the pineapple, ham, and cheese flavor in his mouth. I enjoyed every minute of it.

Here's to many more memories . . . and dates.

Romance! Yes to cute and fluff! So much has been building up to this point. And yet, they haven't mentioned the love word? What's up with that?

Well . . . they haven't shared all the information that we, writer and readers, know about their personal lives. They have fallen for each other. Now they have to realize that this "like" feeling is a little bit more powerful. That the feeling they are experiencing is love! 💕

I tried to challenge myself to write more on Sugar's thought process and emotional state. The fear of rejection. The fear of being wrong. And some fear of intimacy.

I giggled the entire time. Seeing their personalities finally revealing, what they seem to understand about their own feelings, to one another.

And here's to many more dates and romance between them. ❤️ ❤️

Thank you so much! I know I keep saying it, however I mean it every time. I'm just in awe of your support and love.

THANK YOU! 😘

P.S. One more chapter and an epilogue. I'm going to cry. 😭