And so we kissed

Ten

The park was cold a bit — just warm enough for a sweater. Kids ran around in the far distance, laughing and playing as the sound of the sleeves on their coats brushed against the parts that wrapped around their torsos. The smell of freshly turned soil greeted Taylor and Rosemary's senses, mingling with the sweet fragrance of wildflowers blooming in vibrant hues.

The gentle breeze carried whispers of pine as if the ancient trees themselves were sharing their wisdom. The crisp, invigorating scent of dew-kissed grass tickled just under their noses, while the delicate perfume of blossoming petals weaved a tapestry of floral notes.

Taylor and Rosemary sat just at the top of the hill, enough to see the kids, enough to take in the air, enough to look over most of the town. For moments, silence did pass them. The lack of words they shared remained comfortable between them. Everything about that moment was comfortable, even sitting on tiny rocks felt comfortable. The hard ground — comfortable. The tight jacket that was wrapped around Rosemary's body — comfortable. The here-and-there sirens of the cop cars and fire trucks passing by — comfortable.

And even when Taylor did get cold and her face heated up because of it, she stayed there, looking at the park, trying to balance out the weather — sitting next to Rosemary. Taylor just sat, listened, and breathed.

She sat, scooting over subtlety every so often when the sirens would pass by as if she was scared of it knowing that Rosemary would look over every time just to make sure she wasn't freaking out.

She listened, to Rosemary's breathing as she scoffed at the little things parents would do in the distance. Whether it was letting their kids get on the monkey bars by themselves or that one time when the kid ran in the street and the parents were too busy on the phone. Taylor would listen to Rosemary's sneeze every 2 minutes or so. It was how she learned that Rosemary might have had allergies.

She breathed, differently. Taylor's breath hitched every 10 minutes or so. It was always when Rosemary would reach over her and throw a kid back their ball — down the hill or when birds would fly by and Rosemary would scare them away because she had a fear of them.

But Taylor knew all that kind of stuff. All because she sat there, listened, and breathed. And because she paid attention. To the little stuff.

As Taylor's gaze locked onto Rosemary, a soft smile formed on her lips. The chilly air danced around them, visible as a wisp of smoke escaping Rosemary's parted lips. With a gentle motion, Taylor placed her hand on the grass, mirroring Rosemary's proximity. The cool blades tickled her palm, grounding her in the moment.

Closing her eyes, Taylor inhaled deeply, savoring the crispness of the air. It filled her lungs, invigorating her senses and connecting her to the world around them. As she exhaled, a sense of tranquility washed over her, blending seamlessly with the atmosphere.

A surge of warmth and affection coursed through Taylor, prompting her to subtly shift her fingers. In a delicate movement, her pinky brushed against Rosemary's.

Rosemary looked over at her, seeing her eyes closed. She looked down at their hands before moving her hand over a bit and wrapping their pinkies around each other. She then watched as Taylor opened her eyes. Immediately Rosemary turned back to look down the hill.

When Taylor looked down at their hands, she moved her own over some more, intertwining their hands fully. Rosemary chewed at her bottom lip before she intertwined her hands with Taylor's as well.

It only lasted for so long until another kid threw a football to the top of the hill. Rosemary quickly let go of Taylor's hand, taking the football and tossing it down to the boy it belonged to. She turned around to Taylor but Taylor had seemed to be now on her phone.