"I’ll count them, but listen to this first," he said, walking over to the record player and placing a disc on. The soft melody filled Luke's room as he began to hum along.

A wide smile lit up his face, his eyes crinkling, and his dimples deepening—he was happy.

He pulled you close, spinning you around as laughter echoed between you both, and then Wonderwall began to play. Your eyes met, and it felt as if time had stopped. His smile slowly faded, but the intensity in those electric blue eyes remained.

His breath brushed against yours, his lips inching closer, the lower one grazing yours only to pull back slightly—a subtle, teasing torture.

“If I don’t do this now, I’ll regret it later… though I think I’ll regret it either way,” he murmured, his deep voice breaking the quiet before his dry lips met yours in a soft, slow kiss.

Luke stopped the kiss without pulling his lips away, then moved back a few inches and said:

"That was «Wonderwall»."