Hugo did as she suggested, and Alice watched his expression as one of the butterflies, its wings a bright iridescent blue, flapped lazily over to them, then landed on his arm.

His eyes were full of wonder; all the cynicism had gone from his face. At that moment, it felt as if he lit up the whole butterfly house for her. It was the sweetest, sweetest feeling. As if they were sharing something special. Something private. Their own little world.

“You can breathe, you know,” she said softly. “You won’t hurt it.”

“That’s just…” He shook his head, clearly lost for words.

She couldn’t resist standing on tiptoe and brushing her mouth against his.

He froze for a moment, and then, as the morpho flew away again, he wrapped his arms around her waist, returning the kiss. She slid her arms around his shoulders, drawing him closer. And then he really kissed her. All around them, butterflies flapped their iridescent wings, and she closed her eyes, letting all her senses focus on the feel of Hugo’s mouth against hers.