She doesn't remember what they talked about, what they were doing, or why they were even there in the first place. The only thing she does remember is the cards. The games of cards over and over again. And the impulsive kissing in between the games.
Those lips that she had never kissed before, never felt before, never tasted before. It was all new in such an intriguing way, that midsummer night.
She still remembers those last few kisses given between the glass doors, as they said goodbye at 4 in the morning, hoping, wishing, maybe even expecting that it would turn into something more.
/s
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