I don't see how you could possibly bug me with the peppermint breath when you're so bloody far away from me.

Luke was very prompt about correcting that problem, Michelle noted, a promptness that delighted her and served to broaden the grin on her face as she released his arm in favor of sliding her hands under his cloak and against his warm waist. A soft blush rose in her cheeks at the thought of the kinds of peppermint memories she could help him create, and she leaned against him, nodding with silent assent.

"I lied when I said I like girls with peppermint breath."

An embarrassed sort of confusion constricted her heart as he said that and kissed her. What he had to say next though, quickly replaced that embarrassed confusion with a new confusion, one of happy tingles dancing around her stomach, curling her toes, and lighting up her eyes.

She accepted his kiss without hesitation, reveling in his closeness, and in the dawning concept that he belonged to her in a small way that nobody ever had before. One of her hands left his waist as he took hers, and she tenderly eased her fingers up the length of his arm, over his shoulder, brushing against the edge of his blue collar. A tiny sigh crept past her racing heart and over her lips. He was her boyfriend. Hers. Michelle Darlings. And he never really wanted that Bertie Botts girl at all. She caressed his mouth with hers, timidly drinking of his warmth and his strength, wishing that this sweetest of moments could never end.