He ran his fingers through my dark tendrils of curls, stroking each individual hair it seemed. He looked at me. The greens of his gaze meeting the blues of mine. We lay there, quiet, not needing words. Actions spoke louder than words, his actions saying I love you, mine mirroring his. I smile and turn back to counting the stars, which is an impossible feat, considering the amount always changes it seems.
"Elle," he says quietly as if he's waking a child.
"Yes, Mark?"
"I've been meaning to tall you something. It's kind of important." Is he breaking up with me? Is that why he brought me all the way out here? So he could rip my heart out, and then not get the satisfaction of a comfort, just so he could do it in private? That's cruel even for him. I knew every guy was the same. But I didn't expect Mark to turn out as every other failed relationship has.
"..so what do you say," he askes giving a quizzical look.
"What do I say to what?"
"Do you think we should finally have our first kiss?" That's why he brought me out here? That's so sweet and thoughtful.
"You know it makes it less spontaneous when you know when it's going to happen."
"I know. But..." And with that I lean into his lips, not caring what the rest of his sentence was about. He kisses back, obviously not wanting to finish it either. Fireworks spew every where, inside and out. Fireworks lighting the sky, and my heart. Happy 4th of July, indeed.