I blushed. “I panicked. And it shouldn’t have worked, anyway. It’s supposed to be—” I stopped, embarrassment tangling my tongue.
“True love’s kiss,” Ethan finished my sentence. “I read the stories, too.” He took my hand. His was warm and dry, not at all damp or froglike. “Maybe the stories are wrong.”
I twined my fingers with his. “This is just the beginning,” I said. “Who knows where the story ends?”