Roads That Cross...

... With Ghosts From The Past

It was crazy, but he really could've stayed forever just hearing her talk. And she seemed to feel the same way because, even after they finished their cones, they did just that: sat in a bench in the park and talked. Simón sighed internally as their hands naturally found each other. He couldn't stop moving his thumb over her hand, tracing different patterns, and she answered in kind— taking his hand in both of hers at one point and entertaining herself spinning and sliding his rings. It was almost absurd how incredible it felt just to do that, how much he felt just by her touching his hand.

By the time they realized it, the sun had almost completely settled down. As if on cue, Simón got a message from Luna saying that Mónica had said that they shouldn't stay outside until very late. Agreeing with her, both decided to head back to the mansion. Simón sent a text to Luna telling her so.

"Are you sure you aren't cold?" Ámbar asked him. The temperature had definitely dropped some degrees and she almost grew cold herself looking at him in just a t-shirt.

He shrugged. "Maybe a little. But we're gonna be there soon so, no biggie."

Ámbar considered that. It was true, there wasn't much left to walk. The hand that was holding hers didn't feel cold, either, but maybe it was because it was holding hers. She wished she could share her jacket with him, but it wasn't big enough.

She imagined them both trying to snuggle under it and snorted. Knowing Simón, he'd probably say that it should be him offering her his jacket and not the other way around.

"What?" He smiled at her.

Ámbar shook her head, smiling as well. Now that she thought about it, she had the impression that she had been smiling the whole evening. "Nothing."

"What do you mean 'nothing'? You're laughing, what is it?" He chirped.

Ámbar stopped walking and looked at him, meaning to make some kind of joke or something, but when she saw his beautiful smile and his eyes looking at her with affection, her heart constricted. She had truly been happy that day, very, and all because of him. Simón made her feel so many things that she had never felt before. Feelings that, before him, she had never even known existed.

Sometimes, like right then, it was so much that she felt like she might burst.

"What?" He asked her again, softer this time, his eyes searching her face.

She answered him covering his lips with hers.

Ámbar's hands flew to his neck, to his hair, to his shoulders, unable to stand still as she kissed him with the strength of all the wonderful feelings she couldn't explain with words.

But what she could, she told him caressing his face.

"I love you."

Simón looked at her with his eyes still half-closed and his lips still pursed from the memory of hers.

Then the smile slowly grew back on his face, wide and dazzling, and his eyes shined with adoration.

"Me too."

With her heart singing, Ámbar wrapped her arms around his neck and joined their lips once more.

Simón melted against her, enveloping her waist and pulling her closer to him. He had been wanting to kiss her all afternoon –all day, and he probably would all his life— but had refrained, remembering what she had said about people watching. He guessed it was dark enough now that she didn't care, but that was honestly just a fleeting thought in his mind; he was more preoccupied in drinking the taste of her mouth, as if it was the last thing he'd ever taste.