Mum encouraged me to have Emma and Erin over to stay.

We've been watching chick flicks in the TV room all evening, and eating our body weight in popcorn and Haribos.

It's gone midnight before we all climb into our sleeping bags, and it's Emma who starts the conversation about boys and sex.

"So which one of you has done it yet?"

Erin and I remain silent, and I shuffle uncomfortably in my sleeping bag.

"Oh, come on," she huffs. "We can talk about this stuff. We're not nuns."

"Only if you turn off the lights," Erin mumbles.

"What have the lights got to do with anything?" Emma complains.

I look over at Erin and see her shrug, her cheeks rosy red. "I don't know. It's just easier to talk about it if you can't watch me."

I'm not so sure about that.

"Fine," Emma grumbles, sliding out of her bag, and walking over to the only light on in the room, a tall lamp. Clicking it off and with only the TV flickering in the background, she climbs back in her bag and surprises us both by saying, "I let Toby in my knickers two weeks ago."

"You what?" Erin gasps. "Toby Canter? Why would you even go near that dickhead?"

Emma giggles. I don't think I've ever heard her giggle. "He's hot. He's got a car, and he hangs around with Galen and Gareth's crowd."

"What a catch," I mumble under my breath, but she hears me.

"What? You jealous, Fflur?"

I don't answer her and seemingly annoyed that she doesn't get to argue with me, she hits below the belt with, "If you didn't spend all your free time pining for your brother, you'd find someone like Toby."

I'm mute. What the hell is she trying to say?

I don't have to ask because like the bitch she's turning into, she says, "I mean Galen is gorgeous, and everyone fancies him, but it's kinda creepy to have the hots for your own brother, isn't it Erin? Tell her."

"Not cool, Em," Erin states quietly, but Emma just sighs and flops onto her back. She continues to regale us with tales of Toby's fingers, and the size of his cock that he tried to get her to suck. But I'm unable to breathe, let alone speak.

There’s no way she knows how I feel about Galen. I've kept that secret locked tight. I've only ever shared it with my flowers. She's just trying to get a reaction out of me, likely because she fancies him herself.

I make an excuse about needing the toilet, and duck out of the room just as Emma begins to grill poor Erin about some friend of her brother’s, but it's just my luck to bump right into Galen outside his bedroom door.

"Having fun, Fflur?" he asks with a grin, staring hard at my fire-red face.

I press the palms of my hands to my cheeks and look away. With a shrug and my hand on the handle of the bathroom door, I offer, "I was until they started talking about sex and stuff."

He moves closer to me like that's the juiciest gossip he's had all week and needs to hear more.

"I thought that's what you girls did. What's wrong, you not up for it? Come on. You can give me the details."

"No. I'm not talking to you about stuff like that."

Galen smiles. It's the cocky one that always finds his face. The one he's perfected.

"Don't be scared about sex. Everyone does it."

"Have you?" I blurt out, my eyes clashing with his.

He shrugs but steps forward into my personal space, his face serious when he says, "You should wait until you find someone you're comfortable with, don’t give it up to just anyone."

His eyes flit to my lips, before finding mine once more.

I swallow. The gap between our bodies has almost disappeared. We are close enough to touch.

With shaky hands, I reach out and place both my palms on his chest. I couldn't say what gives me the awkward courage to do it. Maybe it was the talk with the girls, maybe it was the small bottle of Asti that Emma snuck out of her house, and we all had a few swigs of, but something encourages me to touch him.

I inhale a long, slow breath that smells like sunshine. Like Galen.

Looking at him from under my eyelashes—an attempt to look seductive and teasing, even though it's unlikely I pull it off—I hoarsely whisper, "What are you saying that for? Are you offering?"

Galen's lips part, and a warm gust of his breath blows over my cheeks, heating them further.

He's got that wicked grin on his face that usually means he's up to no good.

"What if I was, Fflur, what would you do about it?"

With that he takes a step back, my hands fall away from his chest, and he turns and walks back to his room leaving his door open.

Is that an invitation?

Every single hair on my arms stands on end.

My stomach churns.

Between my legs tingles and dampens.

He can't mean what I think he means.

Even so, I step up to the entrance of his room and find him stood facing the door waiting for me.

The room is dark. The only light coming from the hallway behind me, and yet I can see Galen as clearly as if he were in sunlight.

My chest feels tight. Goosebumps break out on my skin. My eyes nervously skitter over his face and down his body.

The loose sport shorts he's wearing hide nothing.

He's hard.

I feel like I'm standing on a tectonic plate that's vibrating wildly after colliding with another.

"Come and sit with me."

My eyes snap back towards his. My mouth is dry. We shouldn't do this, and yet I step forward. I know he would never take advantage of me, but I would give anything for him to kiss me.

Galen sits at the edge of his bed and pats the space next to him.

On jelly legs, I slowly walk into his room and sit awkwardly, ensuring there's a space between us.

"I won't bite, Fflur."

Slowly—oh, so slowly—his hand reaches out and grasps mine on my thigh. Our fingers link and that single touch of his skin against mine turns the tingle between my legs into a throb.

I've never so much as kissed a boy, and yet Galen can hold my hand, and it feels like the most erotic experience of my life.

With his free hand, he gently uses his pointer finger on my chin to turn my face towards his.

"Have you ever been kissed, Fflur?"

I lick my lips and give an almost imperceptible shake of my head.

"I can help you with that."

Slowly, ever so slowly, his head moves towards mine. My eyes fix on his pale pink lips, and when we touch—even though it's only a whisper of skin on skin—I feel the contact on every inch of my body.

With great care, his lips brush mine causing them to tingle and my breath to hitch, and his finger on my chin turns into his entire hand. Cupping my face, he carefully tilts my mouth exactly where he wants it, then and only then does he kiss me.

Deeply.

Fully.

His lips touching mine, as his tongue learns the contours of my mouth.

Elation thrums through my blood, and my hands shake so much that he tightens his hold on the one on my thigh, and involuntarily my other comes up to grasp his t-shirt.

Then, it's over.

His lips leave mine. His forehead leans against my brow and his panting breath puffs over my kiss wet lips.

If I could bottle this moment, I would. Better yet, if I could find a flower to absorb the entire memory, I wouldn't press it into a scrapbook, I'd preserve it in an airtight box so that it would remain perfect forever.

"Do you regret it?” I ask him.

His forehead rolls against mine.

"No, I could never regret anything with you."