He leans forward and gently parts his lips, his tongue momentarily unfurling to lap at the sharp jet of fountain water. Suddenly, his eyes dart open. His fingers uncoil in shock. Another pair of lips has found his. Another tongue soon meets his. Water continues to shoot between their mouths, almost reaching their noses. Almost instinctively, they raise their lock just above the spray. She goes on her tiptoes, like a skilled ballet dancer floating up to taste him. He watches — instead of looking into — her eyes. Finally, she pulls away. He covers his mouth, as if berating it. She coolly wipes her lips. And walks away. His 10-year old heart is beating out of his chest. “You...
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