He (thankfully) didn't speak again, sparing her of any awkward chatter before he moved to kiss her. It admittedly wasn't as bad or nauseating as she'd thought it would be — considering, of course, that her lips were being smooshed against an stranger's. Her hands had unconsciously reached up, her fingers brushing against the fabric of his shirt. (It was, she assured herself upon realizing it, a way to stabilize herself in case she fainted. Obviously.)

Then the kiss was over, and Tessie found herself staring up at Mr. Grimstone through thick lashed, her cheeks tinted pink and a bashful smile across her lips. What was she supposed to say? "Thank you for kissing me"? She could feel the butterflies in her stomach swarming, and she was confident that they'd escape in the form of a giggle if she dared open her mouth. Instead, she tugged her bottom lip between her teeth and raised her brows ever-so-slightly, hoping he'd have something to stay so they didn't stand there until the awkwardness returned.