I kissed him first.
I kissed him first, and he still mentions it as evidence of my great impatience.
What else could I have done? We had only an hour or so, walking in the grounds before the final task. There was no time for my usual flirtatious games. At the greenhouse, I lifted up on cautious toes and kissed him softly. He pulled back, neither surprised nor bothered, and gave me a curious look.
“How old are you?”
“Eighteen,” I told him. It was almost the truth: only three weeks until my birthday.
He smiled with relief and drew near again, touching my face with the back of his fingers. Then he dipped his head and brought his lips to mine, kissing me tenderly several times. I was hardly inexperienced, but there was something new in him, something entirely fresh and irresistible. The thrill of him was intoxicating. He was a gentleman, but he knew what he was doing. I held onto him, wanting more… and finally, with his mouth, he asked, and I said yes, and he deepened the kiss.
He was everything and there was nothing else. And I knew: this was the one.
He asked, and I said yes. With Bill, I always say yes.