“Can I try something?” she asked. The words spoken aloud helped drown out her inner voice. 

James looked at her. His face was serious when he answered, “Anything.”  

Her fingers fumbled for his shoulder, and she angled him toward her. He looked confusedly at her, but then Dee rose on the tips of her toes. She grabbed his jacket in her fist. 

When she kissed him, his mouth tasted of rainwater, fresh and sharp, and the heat of his mouth was a startling contrast to the chill along her skin. He made a soft sound of surprise, but then a groan rose in his chest. 

This was nothing like their first kiss—all hesitancy and fumbling attraction. It was raw and needy, a desperate desire for reassurance before stepping off a ledge into the unknown. His left hand, the one not holding the umbrella, found the small of her back and pulled her closer. He felt sturdy, warm, and solid. She tried to draw some of his wild courage into herself, and he responded in kind, his lips moving hungrily against hers. It was heady, this knowledge that he wanted her, that he had seen all of her broken edges and still thought her desirable. 

When they parted, their breath fogged the air beneath the umbrella. James looked slightly dazed and a flush crept along his cheeks. 

“I just wanted to try that,” she said, “in case we both die horribly tonight.”