I knew exactly what you were doing when you placed that confetti there. Right above your hip, low enough to tease but high enough to still pretend innocence. You wanted a reaction—from the crowd, from me—and I was ready to give it.

I leaned in slowly, felt the warmth of your body before I even touched you. My heart raced, my pulse buzzing loud enough that I thought you could feel it through my fingertips. I steadied myself by lightly gripping your hand, like I was asking permission without words.

You didn’t move away. You barely breathed.

The crowd roared as I gently took the confetti between my lips, lingering just a second longer than necessary, savoring the way you trembled beneath my touch.

You were trying to make everyone happy. But in that moment, it was clear the only happiness I cared about was yours.

And maybe mine, too—if I was brave enough to admit it.