The kiss lingered between them, an unspoken confession, a secret too precious to be shared aloud. Emma and Mark stood still in the middle of the bustling mall, their lips barely apart, foreheads gently pressed together. The world had frozen--at least, it seemed that way for them. The noises, the chaos of the food court, the clatter of trays and the shrill wail of a child complaining about dropped fries, all faded into the background. It was as though they were in their own little bubble, where time slowed and everything else fell away.
But, as always, the world was not so easily forgotten.
Somewhere nearby, a spoon clattered to the floor, breaking the moment like a sharp crack of thunder.
"Are they… kissing?" A voice whispered, not as discreetly as it might have hoped.
Emma's heart skipped. Her breath faltered.
Mark stiffened. His hand, which had been lightly resting on her waist, tightened ever so slightly, as if the sheer act of holding her in this vulnerable space was a declaration of something deeper, something he hadn't fully grasped until now.
The bubble popped, and the world rushed back.
The echo of footsteps, the aroma of fried chicken wafting lazily through the air, the too-loud laughter of a group of teenagers on the other side of the food court--all of it came crashing back, too real, too overwhelming. And now, it was accompanied by the unmistakable feeling of being watched.
Emma didn't dare open her eyes. She could sense it. The hum of whispering voices, the sharp, eager curiosity of onlookers. They weren't just a part of the background now; they were part of the moment, too.
"Oh my god, is that Emma?" came another voice, not so much a whisper as an attempt at one.
Her stomach dropped.
Mark's breath caught in his throat. Emma could hear the faint rustle of his shirt as he turned his head just slightly, a quiet shift of awareness.
She couldn't resist. She peeked--just barely. And immediately, she regretted it.
A little kid, no older than seven, was sitting two tables away. His face was frozen in wide-eyed surprise, a piece of fry dangling from his fingers as he gawked at them. His mother, mortified, quickly reached over and shoved his hand down, mouthing a silent apology, but it wasn't enough to mask the child's shock.
Emma pulled back slightly, eyes wide, heat creeping up her neck. "Mark…" Her voice was barely more than a whisper, trembling with a mixture of embarrassment and something else--something new.
"I know," Mark murmured, his voice low, hoarse, but tinged with something else. A hint of laughter, maybe. "It feels like we're the main characters in a rom-com right now."
A soft chuckle escaped Emma's lips before she could stop it, an involuntary reaction to the absurdity of it all. "We are," she whispered, shaking her head at the irony of it all.
They slowly stepped apart, enough to make the moment feel less like something scripted and more like a real, human exchange. But even as they did, Emma noticed something in Mark. He wasn't embarrassed, not really. He wasn't recoiling or shifting awkwardly, as she had expected him to do. Instead, there was a subtle shift in him, a new confidence in the way he stood, shoulders back, eyes bright and clear. He wasn't apologizing for the kiss. He wasn't shrinking from it. He was almost… proud.
Mark cleared his throat, trying to adjust to the change in atmosphere, but in doing so, he bumped into the back of a chair. It squeaked, loud in the sudden silence, and someone nearby giggled. Emma's face flushed deeper.
"I think we have an audience," she said softly, her voice barely above a murmur, though she knew it would carry.
"Yeah. Front row seats and everything." Mark glanced around, his gaze flickering to the people staring, and then he raised a hand, offering an awkward but endearing wave to no one in particular. It was a move full of bravado, an instinctual shift in him--a silent declaration that he no longer cared what anyone thought. Not here, not with her.
The mall hadn't stopped for them. It hadn't frozen, but for a few moments, it felt like a pause. A lull, where they were the center of attention, and the world watched them as they tried to find their footing in the aftermath of something that felt almost... impossible. But Mark didn't flinch. He didn't shy away from the eyes that now tracked their every movement. Instead, there was a warmth in his eyes--a lightness, a feeling of being unburdened by expectation.
The barista behind the nearby café counter was leaning over the counter, grinning like she'd just witnessed the proposal of the century. Two older ladies sitting near the potted plant by the window were whispering, nudging each other with glee. They were all waiting for something more, waiting to see if this would fizzle or turn into something unforgettable.
Emma buried her face in her hands for a moment, trying to contain the swirl of emotions that came with realizing that she had just kissed Mark in the most public of places. "I can't believe we just did that… here," she muttered, her voice muffled.
Mark's laugh was low, but it carried an undeniable ease to it now, something liberated. "I can't believe I just kissed you next to a Cinnabon," he said, his tone light and teasing, but there was a thread of something else in it--a quiet strength that had only surfaced after the kiss. "That's a sentence I never thought I'd say in my life."
"You kissed me next to a Cinnabon," Emma echoed, her voice dramatic, matching his tone. She paused, then added with a half-smile, "Romance isn't dead--it's just covered in powdered sugar."
And for a moment, it felt like everything was okay. The awkwardness didn't matter anymore, the audience of strangers didn't matter. All that mattered was the fact that Mark had kissed her, and that the world hadn't fallen apart. In fact, the world seemed to be inviting them to revel in the absurdity of it all. The joy, the relief, the fact that they had done something that would forever be marked by this chaotic, beautiful memory.
But then--reality, as it always does, stepped in with perfect timing.
"Emma?" A high-pitched voice called, its dramatic flair unmistakable.
Emma froze. "Oh no." Her stomach lurched.
She turned slowly, dreading what was coming next. It was Brittany. From work. In heels that were entirely too high for mall walking, holding a shopping bag in one hand and a towering iced coffee in the other.
Emma's soul tried to escape her body. She could feel the heat rising in her face, and her pulse quickened.
"Hey, Brittany," Emma said, forcing a smile, her voice tight. She cleared her throat awkwardly. "Nice day for, uh… spontaneous public affection?"
Brittany's lips quirked up, her eyes narrowing with a knowing look. "Sure is. And I *knew* something was going on between you two! Ever since you mentioned him--Mark."
Mark leaned in, whispering softly in Emma's ear, his voice full of that same quiet confidence that had been growing in him ever since their kiss. "We're going to be the subject of at least three group chats by the end of today."
"Three?" Emma muttered back. "You're underestimating my HR's ability to spread gossip."
Mark smirked, then turned his attention back to Brittany, who was eyeing them both with an unreadable expression. More people were walking by now, glancing their way, some even pausing, phone cameras half-raised as if they couldn't decide whether this moment was worthy of being shared online. It was like they had unknowingly become a part of the public's story.
Emma stepped closer to Mark, drawn to him not just for comfort, but for something deeper. For the quiet strength he seemed to be radiating now. His arm brushed against hers, a small, casual contact that grounded her in a way nothing else could. The simple touch reminded her that this was real. That no matter how ridiculous everything felt, it was *real*.
"Okay," she whispered, taking a deep breath. "We should probably… I don't know, go somewhere less public?"
"Like an alley?" Mark teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
Emma laughed softly, shaking her head. "How about literally anywhere without food court seating and overhead fluorescent lighting?"
"I know a good bookstore around the corner," Mark said. "Very romantic. Smells like old pages and disappointment."
"Perfect," Emma agreed, her smile softening. "Let's go."
As they turned to leave, trying to ignore the curious eyes that followed them, Mark slipped his hand into hers. The warmth of his hand, the simple pressure of his fingers laced with hers, anchored her in the moment. She didn't stop him. Her fingers responded to his naturally, as though they were meant to fit there, meant to stay there, no matter the eyes watching, no matter the stories already starting to form.
Behind them, the barista clapped once, and a few people chuckled, the sound like a wave crashing against their quiet retreat.
"Get it, lovebirds!" someone called out, their voice full of teasing affection.
Emma groaned softly, but the smile never left her face. She leaned into Mark, whispering, "We're going to be legends."
"Legends of the mall," Mark said, his voice warm and sure. "Cursed to be remembered forever as the couple who made out next to a pretzel stand."
She laughed harder than she had in days, the anxiety of the moment melting into pure joy. "You're lucky I like you."
He glanced sideways at her, his smile softening as he squeezed her hand. "Yeah. I really am."
As they left the food court behind, the noise faded into the background, replaced by the sound of their footsteps echoing off the tiled floor. The world hadn't stopped for them. It had merely paused, just long enough for them to realize that there was something more to this--something real. And maybe, just maybe, that was all they needed to know.
---
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A/N: that was... embarasing.
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i added some comedy so tell me if you liked it.