Page 124 of Our Scorching Summer

“Do you hate it?”

“No, Nico.” My eyes string together the collection of paintings until they land on his face. “No one’s ever done something like this for me.”

“Another first.” He winks before a smile kisses his face, and I want to follow the trail of his lips with my own.

We stroll around the gallery, reading each of the plaques and filling the walls with laughter. The entire time, our hands are interlaced, and I don’t attempt to pull away. The romance of the whole thing is enough to crystalize sugar on my tongue. Irresistibly sweet.

After perusing a few floors of the museum, we reach the display of one of Van Gogh’sSunflowerpaintings. The Dutch artist painted five versions of the flowers that span galleries around the world. Sure, the National Gallery in London has a version, but seeing it here, in the home of Van Gogh’s many artworks, makes the moment even more special.

Yellow shades are luminescent beneath the glimmer of light. The same beautiful image on my phone’s lock screen now stares back at me.

“You actually brought me to seeSunflowers?”

Nico walks over to the clipping of information hanging by the edge of the frame. “I know it’s not the National Gallery.”

“It’s better.”

“Apparently, they’re meant to communicate gratitude.”

“Maybe if I come into some giant fortune, I can gift half of it to you as a thank-you for this trip.” I chuckle half-heartedly. No amount will be sufficient to repay Nico for the past couple of weeks.

“Seeing that spark in your eyes is gift enough.” He wraps his arm around me. His scent melts across my senses, causing my mouth to water. We look at the swirls of yellow paint, sunshine in the dark gallery, until I get my fill.

Way cooler than my lock screen.

“One last surprise.” He pauses, presenting me with a blindfold. “Put it on.”

I do as he instructs, tugging the fabric over my eyes until the gallery goes out of view.

“Trust me?” he asks.

I nod.I do. On a level I’m not quite ready to address.

At the soft tug of his fingers, I follow his footsteps through the museum. We walk until my boots hit something soft.

“What’s—”

“Topple forward, okay? You’re safe.” He carefully pulls me downward.

“Okay.” My knees hit something that resembles a bundle of fabric, and I feel my way around the soft, plush surface until his weight collapses beside mine.

“May I kiss you, Lily?”

He’s never asked before; somehow, Nico’s always known when my lips ached for him, but the question is gentle.

“Please,” I rasp.

Anticipation boils in my chest, and Nico keeps his promise, colliding his lips with mine. My heart sings until he pulls away.

“No, don’t stop.” I chase after him in the colorful darkness.

His lips line up with my jaw. One kiss. Another. Heat coils through me, the same exquisite way, every damn time.

“You’re a work of art,” Nico says after his mouth finds mine again. The taste of him is almost healing.

“Even here?” I sneak in the question between my airy moans.

“Anywhere,” he breathes in my ear.

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