" Wallace stares at the field for a long second, then turns back and, before I can react, leans down to kiss me. He tastes like sweat and lemonade. It’s quick. Easy. He pulls away, eyes down, voice soft. “Surprise,” he says. The relief registers. I wrinkle my nose and laugh. “Like hell.” “Please, you know you love this.” He flaps his sweaty shirt in my direction before turning and jogging back. “I love you,” I say, but he’s too far away to hear it. That’s okay. He knows. "

― Francesca Zappia , Eliza and Her Monsters