She scarcely knows what she's doing, now that she's begun it -- kisses were always something from stories, until now, never something she has learned or been taught -- but perhaps it's enough to let him hold her, comb his fingers through her hair and keep her close. Perhaps it's enough to part her lips, just a little, and reach up to touch her hand to his cheek. She can't quite believe that he hasn't pulled away yet, that she's been allowed to come this far.

When she withdraws, heart racing once again, she stares up at him with an apology on the tip of her tongue, waiting for whatever his response might be.