All places on my wish list.
My shoulders perk up and I look away from the tower for a second, staring into his brilliant honey-colored eyes. "Ireland?" I ask hopefully. I don't want to give in to the game of making promises we're not sure we can keep, but after Paris it's the second location on my list.
He places his forehead against mine, blocking my view of the tower. "For you I'd spend time in the green hills with the Irish sheep."
"And kiss the Blarney Stone?" I ask, listing off the number one thing I need to do if I ever make it Ireland.
He pulls away, his face crinkled. "Fuck no. People piss on that thing."
I laugh and it's a light sound, one I haven't made since Vincent and I were at odds with one another.
"They do not." That is entirely an urban legend. There's so much security on the rock now it's perfectly clean. As long as you consider kissing a rock which hundreds of other people kiss that day perfectly clean. I would wipe it off first. To be safe.