A small gasp. A shiver.

Finally, an eye-to-eye contact was established. Held breaths.

Each one’s pupils dilated. Clear, seemingly irreproachable eyes locked on the other’s deep, dark, calculating ones.

An inch of breadth left. Sensibility starts to worm through her consciousness, and so, daintily, she voices,

“We shouldn’t.”

“We shouldn’t.” He repeats.

One…two…three seconds.

“We shouldn’t?” He repeats, this time, confusion marring his sharp, perfect features.

“We shouldn’t.” She affirms.

“Why?” He questions, baffled by the ambiguity of her answer.

She clarifies, for him. And maybe more for her.

“Because you only kiss the one you love.”

Heartbeats felt to the tips of their ears.

One…two…three seconds.

Determination locks on his eyes. A blank face. The infamous smirk curve oh so indolently on his thin lips. His Cupid’s bow becomes prominent.

“I know.” He answers. And he does.