“Close your eyes.”

She arches a brow but thankfully does what she’s told—for once.

Ignoring every inch of my protesting body, I limp toward the lake’s edge because something amazing is about to happen. The sky lights up with thousands of lights, and it’s fucking beautiful.

Cupping my hands gently, I smile and hobble back over to Darcie.

Dropping to my knees before her, I say, “Open your eyes.”

When she does, she meets mine, then looks at my cupped palms. I open them, and her reaction is worth almost toppling over in pain.

“Oh my God,” she cries, steepling her fingertips over her mouth. “I thought they only came out during the summer.”

“Not all of them.”

We both watch as the firefly I caught lights up the space between us. It hovers between us, not appearing to be in any hurry to join its many friends.

“It’s beautiful,” Darcie says, her eyes glued to the firefly, and I know she sees the beauty in something so simple as well.

No matter what we’ve done, no matter what we do, we’re just a couple of misfits trying our best to survive.

I hook my thumb over my shoulder, and as the moon comes out of hiding, so do the thousands of fireflies, lighting up the night sky.

“Rev,” she gushes, coming to a stand and running toward the lake’s edge, her arms spread out wide like she too wishes she could light up the darkness. But little does she know, she lights up mine every single day.

Our little friend flies away, knowing his job here is done.

I join Darcie, standing by her side as we silently peer into the sky littered with fireflies. She reaches down and loops her fingers through mine. The fireflies soon pale compared to the fire burning between us.

As usual, the world fades into the background until it’s just Darcie and me.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” she says in an almost whisper. “It’s my first date.”

“Sorry I bled through half of it.”

She smiles, and the sight takes my breath away.

“Why do they light up like that?”

“Because of a chemical reaction caused by the organic compound, luciferin, in their abdomens,” I reply without thought.

“Luciferin,” she repeats softly. “Sounds kind of diabolical, which is ironic, considering it relates to something so beautiful.”

I can’t help but compare her analogy to herself—Darcie is kind of diabolical, but she is the most beautiful girl in the world.

I’ve always hated the word love. It gets thrown around so easily, losing its meaning. But luciferin, now that is a unique word. And this right now, this feels something like luciferin.