Sully's hands skim my arms before cupping my face. "Gwen?" His tone is slow and teasing.

I'm too humiliated to meet his gaze.

"Is there something you'd like to tell me?" he asks again.

I swallow hard, my eyeballs straining so far to the side they feel like they might flip around backward. And I wish they would. Staring at the blood vessels and gray matter inside my brain would be so much easier than looking at Sully's face. I let out a sigh of resignation. "I've never been kissed before. Okay?"

Sully moves back but doesn't release his grip. "Never?"

"Not even a little," I confess.

"And you're not looking at me why?" He turns my head so our eyes connect. "Did you not want me to know?"

I say nothing.

"Gwen?" His voice sounds pleading. "Why didn't you tell me?"

My brows crinkle as I debate how to answer. "Because you thought I'd already been kissed."

He's taken aback. "What are you talking about?"

"That night at the bonfire," I tell him. "You said I'd probably been kissed by plenty of guys. I didn't want to let you down."

"Let me down? Why in the world would I be let down?"

I shrug, heat swamping my cheeks. "I don't know. I just—I didn't want you to think I was inexperienced."

"Inexperienced?" He's still holding my face. "Do you honestly think I care about that?"

I shrug again.

Sully lets out a long breath. "When I said that you'd probably been kissed by plenty of guys that was just me trying to get more information out of you. Like if you had a boyfriend. I guess I should have just asked. But I felt ... stupid."

"You felt stupid?" I stare at him unblinking. "Why would you feel stupid? I'm sure you've been kissed before—right?"

"Well ... yeah. But I—" Now it's his turn to shrug. "I've never kissed by someone I really like. And I really like you, Gwen. A lot."

My lips part. "You do?"

He nods. "I do."

"But why? When you live next door to Hartley, how could you possibly like me?"

His eyes widen and then narrow. "What do you mean?"

I look down. "I'm sure you've noticed how pretty she is. And how funny and exciting and unpredictable. I'm none of those things. I'm just...." My voice trails off.

"Look at me." He tilts my chin.

"No."

"Gwen." He says my name with insistence. "Please."

I glance up through my lashes.

"All the way," he scolds.

I let out a huff and lift my head. Our eyes meet. An irresistible smirk is playing on his lips. "I don't like Hartley. I like you. And I think you're pretty and funny and exciting and unpredictable. Take tonight for example." He pauses. "When you walked out of the house, it felt like someone stole all the air."

I cringe. "That doesn't sound like a good thing."

"It was the best thing," he says. "Plus, you make me laugh all the time. And right now—this entire conversation—I could never have predicted this in a million years."

I roll my eyes. "It's not the same thing and you know it. I surprise you with awkward and uncomfortable revelations. But with Hartley, you never know what's going to happen next."

Sully leans closer, his breath on my nose. "I'm going to tell you something, but it has to stay between you and me. Promise?"

I nod.

"I adore Hartley. She's one of my best friends—if not my very best friend. And yes, she's fun. But unpredictable isn't always a good thing. Half the time, I feel like I'm babysitting her. It's a lot of work trying to keep her out of trouble." Sully's expression grows serious. "I don't have to worry about that with you. Do you know how nice that is for a change?"

My stomach does an excruciatingly slow somersault. "Really?"

"Really."

Sully adjusts my face in his hands. I close my eyes, expectation rolling through me. This is it. The moment I've been waiting for. No more wondering what my first kiss will be like. No more worrying about when it's going to happen. It's happening now, in the middle of the French Quarter! In front of a trio of whimsical musicians and dancing couples in love and whistles from a nearby riverboat. I'm waiting and waiting for it to happen when finally his lips touch the very tip of my nose. My eyes shoot open.

"And because I like you so much," he says slowly, "I don't think our first kiss should be in front of all these people."

My shoulders slump. Sully steps back, his arms dropping to his sides. My skin feels cold and abandoned.

He bites the inside of his cheek. "We should probably start heading toward the ghost tour."

I try to keep the disappointment from my voice. "Okay." Only I'm not sure he buys it.

"Can we pick up where we left off later?" His face brightens. "Maybe when we're alone? I don't want anyone to ruin the moment."

Like I'd say no to that! I raise one shoulder nonchalantly. "If you want to."

"Unless you'd rather not ..."

"I do!"

Sully laughs and grabs my hand. "Good. Now, let's get through this other stuff so we can get to that."

And I can't think of anything I'd like more.

We stroll down the streets, hand in hand, stopping occasionally to peek inside of tiny shops. Vintage clothing, books, art, trinkets and the sweet yet nutty smell of pralines tempt me from all sides, but one little business stands out from the rest.

"Madame LaRue's House of Magic." I turn to Sully. "What is this place?"

He looks apprehensive. "It's a Voodoo shop."

My eyes widen. "Voodoo? I always thought that was something made up for movies and stuff."

"No, it's real. And it's a big deal around here."

The door is propped open as if inviting us inside. I drag him through the threshold and the tiny hairs rise on the back of my neck. The walls are painted a deep, rustic orange and are covered from floor to ceiling with shelves lined with beaded jewelry, candles, tiny rag dolls and colorful bottles in all different sizes and shapes, and an altar made from what appears to be human skulls sits off to one side. The shop is so intriguing, I'm not sure what to inspect first. "It's like, witchcraft, or something. Isn't it?" I ask, taking everything in.

"It's a religion that was brought here from Africa, when people there were forced to move to the New World. It's associated with witchcraft and black magic, but honestly, I don't know much about it."

I study Sully from the corner of my eye. He's standing rigid next to me, not even inspecting the items. "You don't like this stuff, do you?"

He shifts uncomfortably, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his shorts. "Not really. Ghost tours are one thing, they're more about history than anything else. But this—" he gestures around us— "is different. I don't want to know about my future and I don't care to hear what the dead have to say."

My jaw drops. "They can talk to the dead?"

Sully shrugs. "I don't know and I don't want to find out."

I turn away from him to flip through a hardcover book filled with summoning spells and theories about the afterlife when Sully's voice pulls me back. It's much softer than before. "Are you afraid of dying?"

His question takes me by surprise, and it's then that I realize he must be thinking about his brother. I set the book back in its place, guilt tugging at my heart. "No," I answer honestly. "I'm afraid of living. And at the same time, I'm afraid of not living enough."

We stare at each other, not saying a word.

"Dere ya go!" a gravelly voice proclaims out of nowhere. I jump, my head jerking toward the sound. An ancient-looking woman is standing nearby, a scatter-toothed smile spread over her thin, brown face. "Dats some smart words dere. F'sure dey are. Why'nt ya'll step a bit closa? I need a betta looksee."

Panic swells in my chest as I catch Sully's eye. The old lady is wearing a multicolored dress, her salt and pepper curls held back by a matching strip of fabric knotted around her head. Her eyes are clouded over by white.

"Ya comin' over here, 'r what? Y'all don't keep me waitin' all day now."

I shuffle closer, but Sully lags behind.

"Bay-bee! Where y'at?" she says when I reach her. I've never heard an accent like hers before. Her wrinkly hands reach forward and slowly move over my face as if she's searching for something, but I have no idea what. And then it dawns on me. She can't see. I've never met a blind person before. Part of me wants to run, but I don't want to be rude. When her exploration is complete, her arms drop to their sides and I let out a breath. "Wassa matta? Da cat gotcha tongue?"

I swallow hard before answering. "Um ... no, ma'am."

The woman nods. "Well, awrite den. Do ya have a name?"

"It's—" I glance back at Sully. He's staring at me with wide eyes. "Gwen Lincoln."

"Gwen," she repeats slowly. "Ya not from 'round here, 'r ya, Gwen Lincoln? Where ya stay at?"

My heart is drumming in my chest. "I live in Ohio, ma'am. But I'm here for the summer visiting my friend."

"Dat ya friend dere?" She nods in Sully's direction.

"No. I mean, yes—he's my friend. But not the friend I'm staying with."

"F'true!" She lets out a cackle. It sounds like a chicken laying an egg. "Welcome to N'awlins, dawlin'. My name's Madame Zemora LaRue. S'good ta meet ya. Ya want me ta read ya cards?"

"Um, I'm sorry. My what?"

"Ya cards," she says again. "Dey can answa all ya life's questions. Do ya wanna know 'bout money? Luck? Love?" She enunciates that last part, her milky gaze moving toward Sully.

Is she serious? Yes, I want to know about love! And I really want to know how she can read my cards if she can't even see. I glance behind me, hoping Sully's on board, but find him staring at the floor, the summer tan drained from his face.

A second woman steps out from a doorway in the back of the store, her brown eyes wary but kind. She resembles a much younger version of Madame LaRue, only dressed less conspicuous. "Maw-Maw, I don't think they want a reading today." She gives me a smile.

"Did I ax fer ya opinion?" Madame LaRue says, barely turning her head. "Ya gotta come out here an ruin all ma fun." She flashes a smirk. "Some otha time, Gwen." It's more of a statement than a question.

"I'd like that very much." I stumble back, reluctant to turn away.

Even though she can't see me, I wave, and Sully and I step into the sunshine. He lets out a breath.

I lay my hand on his arm. It's tense. "I'm sorry. I didn't know that would make you so uncomfortable. We didn't have to go in."

He gives me a tight smile. "It's okay. It's all a part of the New Orleans experience. I can see why you'd be curious."

"I am. I just wish I weren't so insensitive."

"You're not insensitive," he insists, nudging his shoulder into mine.

"I forced you to go inside. It was selfish and I'm sorry."

He laughs. "You didn't force me." The color has returned to his cheeks. "If I really didn't want to go inside, I wouldn't have."

"You're just saying that so I don't feel bad."

"Cross my heart." He draws an invisible X across his chest. "I want to go wherever you want to go."

Something shifts inside of me. "You're so sweet to me."

Just then, Sully frowns but I don't understand why. "You know what?" he says, grabbing my hand. "I can't wait anymore."

"Wait for what?" He pulls me along, weaving a path down the sidewalk, around a young mother with two toddlers and an older couple holding hands. I have to step aside so I don't run into them. "Are you taking me home?"

"Home?" he says over his shoulder. "No, I'm not taking you home."

"Then where?" I ask again.

"You'll see."

We turn through a stone archway that opens into a cobblestone courtyard. There's a babbling water fountain in the center surrounded by dozens of velvety green shrubs. It's like we've wandered into a fairy tale, leaving reality behind. My breath catches in my throat. "What is this place?"

His pace slows until we're standing still, facing one another. "It's the next stop on our date," he says. And holy crap, his eyes take on this sleepy look like he just woke up from a nap. I try not to get lost in them.

I drag my gaze away and look around, but there's no one in sight. Everything is silent except for the gurgling water. "Is this where the tour starts?"

Sully shakes his head and goosebumps crawl up my arms. I think I might know where this is going. My eyebrows raise by their own accord.

He laughs and steps closer. "Is this okay?"

It's more than okay.

"May I kiss you?' he whispers. His breath mingles with mine. It tastes like powdered sugar.

A painful blush erupts over my face, but I don't care. "Yes."

Sully's fingers graze my cheek before ever so gently tangling in the back of my hair. Without being obvious, he guides my head to the side and somehow our faces come together like two long-lost pieces of a puzzle. He nudges my nose with his before bringing his lips to mine.

Someone whimpers. I think it's me.

And then it's happening! Our mouths mold together, soft and open and ready, our tongues shyly exploring one another. My arms wrap around his neck and his hands find my waist and what little space that had remained is now pressed tightly between us.

We're surrounded by years of history and beauty, but right here in Sully's arms, is the most wonderful place I've ever been.

And if I could have one wish for the rest of my life I'd wish this moment would never end.