Rachel sauntered up to me, looking far too pleased with herself, her sapphire eyes practically twinkling with mischief. She hooked her arm through mine, her grip light but possessive, and let out a giggle that was entirely too pleased for my comfort.
"Spoil me today, Arthur," she declared, as if this were some royal decree and I was her humble attendant. "After all, I only get one sweet sixteen in my life."
"If you wish to be spoiled, I don't mind," I said, watching her closely.
She was practically vibrating with joy, her usual composed demeanor entirely abandoned. Seeing her like this—so carefree, so incandescently happy—was infectious. A warmth spread in my chest, though I wasn't quite sure what to do with it.
Rachel's gaze turned sly, a flicker of something conspiratorial dancing behind her eyes. "I wonder…" she mused, tilting her head just slightly. "I wanna kiss you again."
