Page 147 of More Than Water


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I imagine the heat building in the places where our bodies unite, growing and expanding through both of us, as we shed away the exterior that each of us carries.

“And this is how you see us?” he asks, skating his mouth to my ear.

“Yes.” I nod. “Neither one of us is the water. You’re not, and neither am I. We’re more than water.”

“It all sounds very wet,” he jests. “And watery.”

“The combination of hydrogen and oxygen is off the charts. We might be swimming in it for days.”

“Are clothes required?”

“Completely optional.”

“Evelyn,” Foster carefully pronounces, like it’s the most precious word to ever cross his lips. His fingertips delicately graze along the shape of my cheekbone. “Just my Evelyn.”

“Yes, Fozzie,” I reply in confirmation.

Slipping his palms to the base of my neck, Foster connects his lips with mine, fervently kissing me and sealing together who we are outside of our stature and status, beyond his science-oriented mind and my free-spirited one. I swim into his depths as we drown ourselves in one another, underneath what the world perceives.

There are many factors that make us an unlikely pair—my own predisposition toward any kind of society, his geeky way of thinking, and the vibrant way I express myself—but we have a chemistry that cannot be denied.

Like a flame breaking the boundaries to survive underwater, we, too, are something beautiful.

We are a substance of our own design.

We’re more than water.

We’re more than fire.

We’re a miracle, a living and breathing combination, with no formula to define us.

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