Jungle of Creation
Chapter 11

It’s been two weeks.

Two weeks since I’ve seen my family.

Two weeks since I heard what that monster did to Charley.

Two weeks since I found out what I am.

Pain shoots up my spleen as I’m thrown to the ground. Again. Who knew this self-defense stuff wasn’t my strong suit? I tumble worthlessly to my feet only to have them knocked back out from under me. Fancy agility and superpowers my butt. None of my so-called abilities matter when your opponent moves faster than you can blink.

Cole looks down at me with that punch-worthy smirk that’s been on his face since he started training me two weeks ago. The only issue is he moves too fast to freaking punch him. Apparently this jerk has never heard of the concept of taking it easy on someone. Nope. Instead, I’ve been thrown to the floor thirty times and it’s not even ten o’clock yet.

“You weren’t paying attention again.”

“Screw paying attention. There’s nothing to pay attention to because you move too fast.” That tiresome smirk is now replaced by an exasperated look as he offers his hand to help me up. I cross my arms, step back, and make sure to give Cole a nice glare. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul… Well he can see mine filled with disdain.

“Don’t give me that look, Faller. I don’t like this arrangement any more than you, but you’ll never learn to defend yourself if you zone out all the time.”

Great. He only calls me by my last name when he’s in business mode, and I hate it. It’s not even my legal name! Not to mention, it makes me feel like just a disobedient teenager. I roll my eyes at him, “Don’t call me that.” What’s worse is I ask him to stop at every single session, but he just continues out of spite. Everything else he said is old news. Heard it. Been there, done that. “Fine, what were we learning again?” Yep, I was definitely not paying attention. The people at the compound have been calling these self-defense classes, but I don’t buy it. These are more like full-on combat classes.

Cole groans deeply before turning his eyes up to the ceiling in a ‘Help me, Jesus’ gesture. “We were going over the best place to target your opponent in a self-defense situation. You aren’t short, but against larger opponents, your skinniness is going to bite you in the butt,” I roll my eyes at him and gesture for him to get on with the explanation, “You have little to no muscle mass, your strength is weak, and your only physical advantage is your speed.”

“Okay, are we done with the personal bashing session?”

Cole, being the jerk he is, continues on as if I hadn’t spoken, “Your speed won’t help you in a fight against me, so what do you do?”

Is he kidding me? What can I do? “Do we have any white flags anywhere?”

He just raises his eyebrows as if the answer is flipping obvious. “No, use your wit, Kitty.” I almost feel bad for the word ‘Kitty’ with all the irritation Cole threw into it. Speaking of, that nickname makes a whole lot more sense now. “You may not have a physical advantage, but you do have your mind. If you can predict my movements, then you can strike hard and fast in a place that will hurt. I wouldn’t suggest going for the nose because you may not have the strength to break it. Not to mention the face is highly guarded, and that move would be expected. Instead, try kicking out the knees or the groin. You could even jab the neck or the eyes, but you’d have to hit before they knew you were coming.” Huh. Maybe I could get this self-defense thing down after all. To be honest, he’s not all that bad of a teacher, but he’ll never know that. I’m just going to say he has the student to thank for that.

“Do you want to try?”

Zoning out again, my eyes snap up from whatever planet they were visiting, “Hmm? Try what?”

“God, Faller!” He starts to say something else until he sees my scowl at what he called me. Then he smirks instead. That douche canoe! “Whatever, get into position. Fists up, legs shoulder width apart and relaxed. I’m going to run and strike. Your job is to predict my moves and hit one of the spots I listed.” I nod, not because I think I can do it, but because it’s the only way he’ll be quiet. I’ve never known a deep, smooth voice that irritates and appeals to me as much as his. The irritation always wins.

I watch as he takes off in a blur, circling around the training room at the edge of the weight equipment. I follow him closely, wishing I could activate my stupid abilities to heighten my vision. I haven’t had another incident with my powers since that day I ran unnaturally fast from Ash and Jere. The day I found out. At this point, I know for sure my eyes are slowly changing with every activation of my panther. All that’s left of the amber that once made up my irises are bands circling the outer edges. The remainder of my irises, down to my pupils, are circles of emerald green. I guess I’m just going to have to get used to the idea of green eyes.

I watch Cole circle, five, seven, ten times with no sign of stopping. He really wants me to drop my guard, huh? Well that’s not going to happ—

I watch in slow motion as Cole shoots out from the edge of the room, races up to where I’m standing, and slices the air from under my feet. I collapse onto my backside in a heap.

“Ouch!”

“If you were paying attention, it wouldn’t have hurt so much.”

“If you were going slower, I could’ve paid attention.”

Cole shoots me a look that meets head-on with my glare before he sighs, “A real opponent isn’t going to wait up for you. Why should I?”

“Easy. When am I ever going to even face a real opponent?” It wasn’t like me to assume my future and where it was headed, but seriously?! I’m a twenty year old girl with no combat experience and no real enemies. Why would someone want to fight me? Let alone a super powered someone.

Cole obviously doesn’t see my logic, though, because his exasperation quickly transforms into a nasty glare. “Again.” Then he races away to run more laps, not giving me a second’s notice.

He’s does this another six times, running and knocking me down. He speaks the same word every time, he runs a different number of laps every time, and somehow I always end up flat on my butt. He’s on lap four right now as I grit my teeth and watch every single move he makes. I am not falling down again. My bruises will probably last a month as it is. He’s up to lap eight. I’m so focused on his every move that I can almost pick out his arms and legs, despite his speed. His arm twitches at his side, indicating—I hope—the direction he’s going to go. My eyes are locked on him as he starts veering off toward me, stride lengthening, leg stretching out to kick me down. All in the space of a millisecond. Just as he comes within kicking distance, my leg is already up, aiming for the back of his knee.

My foot connects with its target, stunning Cole and causing him to fall backwards. I let out a whoop of victory as I finally—finally—land a hit after two weeks of trying. My mistake comes a second later when I realize I didn’t unhook my foot from Cole’s knee and I go tumbling on top of him. A whoosh of breath comes out as Cole hits the ground full force and I ram into him. For a second, I’m laying still on top of him, sprawled across his chest. I immediately roll off him and scramble up, my tan skin doing little to hide the red racing across my cheeks. I don’t regret kicking him. No, I loved that. But I do regret falling onto him because it didn’t make me want to gag as much as I thought it would.

Staring up at me from the floor and breathing deeply, Cole gives me a heated half-grin. “Jeez, Kitty, you’re heavier than you look.”

“Shut up, Jerk face.” I give him a hand to help him up, like he always does when I’m on the ground.

Cole takes my hand, that insufferable smirk on his face again, “Creative as always.” I’ve maybe had some time to brush up on my insults during these classes… “Alright, Kitty, since you’re a big boss killing machine now, we’ll do one more lesson before we call it quits for today.” Thank the Lord! My entire body is trembling with anticipation for this to be over.

“Okay. Whatcha got, Teacher?” I grin up at Cole, and he gives me an incredulous look. I can’t really blame him. I’m never happy around him, but my mini-victory has kind of gone to my head at this point. I’ve never felt so cool in my life.

Cole just stares at me for a minute longer before speaking in a hesitant tone, “We need to practice getting out of a headlock.” My eyes instantly widen and my nerves come to life, thrumming through my veins. No way is he coming anywhere near my throat. Not after last time. Cole instantly picks up on my reaction, and I realize that’s probably why he was hesitant in the first place. Holding up his hands he speaks in a hurry, “We don’t need to do it yet if you aren’t comfortable. We can save that lesson for a later time, or we can schedule you a different instructor for it. Whatever feels best.” My eyes flash to Cole’s as he tries to placate me. He looks genuinely concerned and apologetic. Is it possible that this jerk is actually sorry? Something about the look in his eyes—not pity, but worry—makes me step up.

“No, I want to try it.” Cole looks at me with extreme indecision, trying to decide if I’m being serious. I cross my arms and put on my straightest face to prove it. I don’t want to be weak and I don’t want to be babied. I’m taking this class to protect myself and the concern in Cole’s eyes tells me he’s just here to teach. He’s not the threat here. “I’m ready. What do I do?”

Cole stares at me for a minute before his eyes widen in the realization that I’m being perfectly serious. I guess I surprised him by wanting to try. Shaking his head, he gets up off the floor to instruct. “I guess I’ll come up behind you and get you into a headlock. Once my arms are secure, I want you to tilt your head, grab my arm, and tuck your chin to protect your airways from being cut off. Once that’s done, you’re going to lock your foot behind my leg, then use my own momentum against me while you turn 180 degrees to throw me to the ground. You need to keep your free leg grounded and secure so that you don’t go down with me.” Gulp. This sounds fairly complicated despite Cole’s attempt at making it simple. Well, what’s one more excuse to make a fool of myself?

I nod silently, steeling myself for what’s coming next. I know he’s not here to hurt me, but the pounding in my chest says otherwise. I clench my fists, nails digging into skin, to ground myself and stay focused. You got this, Mi. Of course you can throw a 140-ish pound man over your shoulder. Psh, that’s my Wednesday routine.

Cole slowly comes up to me, making eye contact all the way. He really does seem worried about how I’ll react. Who knew the guy that calls me Kitty instead of my given name would care if I’m comfortable? Once Cole reaches my side, he circles behind me and wraps his arms around my neck in a headlock. Considering he hasn’t taken it easy on me the entire time we’ve trained, I expect him to squeeze tight, simulating an actual life-or-death situation. Instead, his arms are barely there, just tight enough to hold firm, but not squeezing me in the slightest. My mind doesn’t process how gentle he’s being, though. As soon as his arms touch my neck, I’m met with panic-inducing, heart-pumping flashbacks. Squeezing. Claws. Blackness. My eyes replay the scene over and over again behind closed lids, my breathing and heart rate spiking to an unsafe level.

I feel detached, like the rational part of myself is just watching from the sidelines. Watching as I claw and thrash in Cole’s loose grip. I observe his expression change from detachment, to shock, to worry. As the last emotion crosses his icy eyes, thawing them, his hands shoot from my neck. I feel him release his grip, drawing my common sense back to my body. I collapse onto my hands and knees, shaking, trembling. His hands were around my neck for maybe ten seconds. I shouldn’t have played with fire. Stupid, stupid. The reality is, when I want to prove something, consequences be damned. I wanted to prove that my kidnapping didn’t affect me as deep as it did. Man, was I wrong.

I slowly move my gaze up to Cole, ashamed I couldn’t keep it together. He seems to be trembling almost as much as me, his face riddled with guilt instead of its usual sarcasm. Now I feel bad just for reacting that way. In hindsight, I see that he was intentionally being extra gentle. Too bad panic attacks don’t like logic.

Crawling over to the sidelines where our water bottles are lined up, I take a long swig and look back at Cole, “It wasn’t your fault. Don’t feel bad about it.” My voice is set barely above a whisper. So low, I almost think he can’t hear it until he looks at me with a rueful smile.

“Oh, but it is, Kitty. Look,” Cole takes a deep breath, steeling himself, “I meant to tell you earlier, but I’m sorry. I dragged you into this place, and I shouldn’t have.”

My eyes spike up to meet his in a questioning gaze. I can read the guilt and regret in his eyes. Did he just apologize? “Well, it didn’t help that I ran. I could’ve heard you out.” Even as I say it, I know I wouldn’t have acted differently that day. I’m not the type of person to blindly follow a stranger to who knows where.

Cole’s eyes spark in amusement as if he knows what I’m thinking, “We both know you wouldn’t have. Besides, attacking you probably wasn’t the best first impression.”

My lips tip up slightly, though my hands still have a case of the jitters, “No. It really wasn’t. Try a handshake next time.” Cole lets out a light chuckle—a nice sound, I’m not gonna lie—before strolling over to me and helping me up.

“I think that’s plenty for one day. We made some progress, and we can always come back to that lesson later.” I nod in agreement, knowing I wouldn’t mind a few weeks without anymore headlocks. “Do you need an escort to lunch?”

I shake my head no, reaching down to grab my water bottle and hand Cole his. Over the last couple weeks I realized my hunch was right; the compound is set up in a circle with hallways branching off of it. The hall with my room on it is the one closest to the cafeteria, but I haven’t explored many of the other veins. The compound seems almost never ending. Either way, I know my way to the staples: my room, the cafeteria, and the training room. I wave a quick goodbye to Cole and head to the cafeteria where everyone should be meeting for lunch. I did not expect that heart to heart today. Quietly pondering why Cole even cared enough to apologize, I make it to the cafeteria and enter the public access code. Entering the packed room, I only notice about half the eyes on me this time (an improvement) before I enter the line to get my meal. I head over to the table where Ash and Jere usually sit with my passable meatloaf.

Ash looks up from her tray as I come sit by her, “What’s up, Mi? How’d training go?” She gives me a bright grin before stuffing her face some more, and Jere looks up to give me a silent wave.

“Went alright. I actually landed a hit this time.” My smile turns up to a hundred watts as I bask in the glory of that moment, pointedly ignoring the moments that followed.

Jeremy’s face goes from polite to mind blown when he hears, “No way, Amira! Are you sure this hit was on Cole and not yourself again?” That statement coming from anyone else would’ve been entirely sarcastic, but I can see a little bit of genuine concern beneath Jere’s amusement.

I give him a smirk and roll my eyes, “No, Jere. I’m pretty sure I know where the hit landed.”

I catch a mischievous gleam in Ash’s eyes as she turns to look at me, “You landed on your butt again after you hit him, didn’t you?”

My eyes widen in mock betrayal as I listen to her mostly accurate assumption of the events. “No,” I say while drawing out the word, “I landed on him this time, actually.” I let out a laugh and a split second later Ash joins in, hysterical. Jere just stares at me from across the table in shock and dismay, while a blush heats my cheeks from reliving the embarrassing moment.

“Mi, you put a whole new meaning to the term ‘pouncing on someone’.” Then Jeremy stops staring and joins in the laughter. Apparently there’s a shortage of embarrassing moments here, so we’re all going to live off of mine.

I hear a throat clearing behind me, and for a split second I think Cole overheard our conversation, until I hear a familiar Southern drawl.

“I do hope I’m not interruptin’ anything.” I turn around to see Grant smiling down at us. I haven’t seen much of him the past two weeks since he’s been on guard duty, so it’s a nice surprise to see him at lunch. His hair is just as sandy and his dimples are just as deep as I remember, but his skin is more golden, implying that he’s been guarding the perimeter quite a bit.

“Not at all. Just talking about all the ways I can make a fool of myself in training.”

“Ah… So nothing new?” Grant’s deep brown eyes spark with amusement, shining more golden.

“No, nothing new.” I gaze up at him from my seat, a smile on my face. Over the past couple of weeks, Ash, Jere, and Grant have all become good friends to me. In a time when I don’t have my family, and I don’t have any other friends to speak of, they’re just about all I have. They make me feel more like a high school student again. Not like I’m trapped here with no contact to my dad and sister until I solve a murder case.

Something I can’t define passes over Grant’s face until he hides it from view, replacing it with a smirk. “Well, Amira, I can’t let your life become this monotonous. Ash, Jere, do you mind if I steal her for a minute?” I glance at my two friends to gauge their reactions, only to see them exchange a secretive look, then turn back to Grant.

“Not at all!” They both say simultaneously with wide smiles. I glance suspiciously at them before allowing Grant to lead me to the edge of the cafeteria. Grant appears outwardly calm, but he’s fiddling slightly with the hem of his shirt unconsciously. He’s nervous about something.

He leads me to the edge and then turns me to face him. “Might as well spit this out. I have the day off today and I found this nice spot in the jungle and I’d like to take ya if you’d let me. Will ya?” I stare, dumbfounded for a minute, at Grant as these words tumble out of his mouth. Apparently his accent gets stronger when he’s nervous, too.

Finally getting my act together, I look into his hopeful gaze and let out a little smile. He just asked me out. Wow, a guy just asked me out. My little smile turns into a grin as I nod my head slowly. I’ve never dated anybody before. Sure, I’ve been kissed, but a relationship was never worth the time commitment. I had—have—a family to take care of. Still, my family isn’t here, and I really like Grant. If he wants to take me out, then who am I to stop him?

Grant beams before giving me a little hug, “Yes! This will be great. I’ll get you from your room around seven, okay?”

I nod, “Alright. Sounds good to me.” I’m actually pretty excited about the idea of this little “date”. Especially if it’s going to take place outside.

“Awesome. I’ve got to go handle some things before I’m free for the day. I just wanted to come by and make sure you’re interested. See ya later, Amira.” Grant gives me another parting grin before turning and exiting the cafeteria. I make my way back over to the table, only to be met with a couple very curious looks.

“So, did he ask? What did you say?” Ash smiles up at me, not missing a beat, with her hazel eyes flashing. I glance between her and Jere, both of them eagerly awaiting my answer.

I avert my eyes to the floor before answering in a light tone, “I said yes…” Even as I make my bashful confession, I can’t help the excited grin from crawling across my face.

Ash jumps up from her chair with gold glowing in her eyes, wrapping her arms around me in a bear hug. “I’m so excited for you! Grant’s been going on about this for the past week and he finally manned up!” I laugh nervously as Ash’s heat engulfs me, climbing up steadily with her excitement.

“Uh… Ash?” She looks up at me, her head level with my chest, before getting the message and letting go.

“Oops… Sorry, Mi. Got a little carried away.” I watch her take little breaths, her eyes going back to their greenish brown. I grin at her, letting her know I don’t mind.

Jeremy decides to hop up too, giving me a much more gentle hug to avoid crushing my rib cage. “That’s awesome, Mi. Good luck.” He gives me a little wink—Jere gives me a little wink—before letting go and sitting back down. Now I’m giggling nervously, walking back over to my seat. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Cole leaning against one of the far corners, his athletic frame relaxed with arms crossed. He’s not eating or talking to anyone, just standing and staring at the wall. Should I go up to him? He doesn’t look that lonely… I’ve been on the sidelines enough to know that looks can be deceiving, though. I sigh. I’m probably going to regret this, but I make the split second decision anyway. Grabbing my tray, I let Ash and Jere know that I’m heading back to my room.

Instead of heading to the nearest trash can, I go to the one closest to where Cole is standing. As I walk over, he glances up, making eye contact. His brow furrows slightly, but he pastes on a smirk all the same.

“You know… You’re not being forced to spend time with me right now.” His voice hints at amusement, but there is still none to be found in his eyes. He is genuinely confused.

“Meh. I figured what else have I got to lose?” I add my own smirk for effect. He has every right to be confused about why I’m talking to him when I don’t have to be. I don’t even know why I’m talking to him. Cole regards me for a moment before snorting and going back to his wall-watching.

“Wow,” I comment, stretching out the word, “Thrilling conversation.” My sarcasm is thick as Cole raises his eyebrow at me.

“I didn’t tell you to come over here.” His smirk is gone. He just seems irritated now.

“You didn’t tell me not to, either.” This conversation is going nowhere. Why did I come over here again? I huff before trying to replace some other topic to grab on to. Not my specialty. I look down at the floor before noticing Cole’s atrocious orange sneakers have been replaced by equally bright red and purple ones. Crossing my arms, I cling to the subject, “You really weren’t joking when you said you never wear shoes beside sneakers.” Cole sighs and looks at me again, obviously annoyed I’m still here, before begrudgingly replying.

“Yep. Best shoes on the planet. You’re wearing some right now. You should know.” I am wearing sneakers but, compared to Cole’s, mine are as bland as can be. They’re a simple gray, coordinating with the new black fitted training suit I’m still wearing. Ew, I just realized I haven’t taken a shower and probably smell. No wonder Cole doesn’t want to talk to me. Over the past two weeks, my wardrobe’s shifted from those awful white scrubs to simple white t-shirts and jeans, along with my training uniform. I still haven’t put on that bandanna, though. I don’t plan on staying long enough for that. Just long enough for Charley.

“Yeah, they are nice. Flips flops are still better, though.” Cole’s face twists into a disagreeable frown. I guess when you’re a super-runner, only running shoes are going to cut it. He shakes his head and lets out a little smirk, but stays otherwise silent. “So… Why are you over here by yourself?” This is the main question that’s been on my mind. Hopefully, Cole will actually answer it.

He looks down at me with a curious gaze before straightening out and sighing, “Don’t have any interest in holding up a conversation.”

Really? Cole’s an introvert? “I replace that hard to believe. You seem to be able to make conversation with me. You know, other than now.” I cast him a rueful smile while he just rolls his eyes at me.

“You’re different. Not all wrapped up in the organization yet.” I don’t like how he says yet. Not to mention, he almost sounds like he’s not a fan of S.C.

“What does that matter? These people aren’t bad.” Well, at least the three people I talk to aren’t bad. He just grunts and continues his staring contest with the wall. Isn’t he just a chatterbox today. He’s just intrigued me, but it’s obvious I’m not getting anything out of him. “Whatever. See you tomorrow, Cole.” He nods in my general direction, not even sparing me a goodbye. I don’t know what happened to him in the past thirty minutes since I last saw him, but he needs to unwad his boxers. I drop my tray in the trash and start the short trek back to my room.

After taking my waist length hair out of its sweaty ponytail, stripping out of my uniform, and taking a steamy shower, I’m officially dressed and ready to leave with Grant in an hour. Considering I finished getting ready with about five hours to spare, I’ve been doing the same thing I’ve been doing for the past two weeks: trying to activate my powers. Dr. Howard suggested meditating, concentrating on my center—my happy place, and using that to unlock my inner abilities. Without a survival situation to bring my panther out, I’m left trying just that to awaken my powers.

I’ve been sitting in the same cross-legged position on the middle of the floor for hours now with no progress. I’m frustrated, tired, and angry—all of the emotions I usually feel when I fail. My mind’s eye focuses on a picture of Dad and Lyla, their brown curls and hazel eyes shimmering in the memory. We’re sitting at the park by our house, laying in the grass, eating sandwiches, laughing. The sun is shining bright and the grass sparkles like emeralds. My mind switches focus, the emerald sheen of the grass transforming into two adorable eyes set on a feline face. I miss Nemo. I miss Lyla, Dad. Nemo’s little face focuses, his abundant meows translating into his need for food. I allow myself to think of the day I found him. The little basket with a tiny black kitten, a handwritten note from Mama inside. I always wondered why she would even bother. If she was going to leave, why give us a parting gift? Unless… Nemo looks so much like a little panther. I even used to call him that when he was a kitten. Nemo must’ve been Mom’s attempt at explaining. She couldn’t tell us about the compound, so she gave us a hint at why she left instead. She had to leave because of her powers. It’s too bad she never came back.

I sit for a little while longer, thinking of all the good memories I have of my family. Still no success. I need to replace something that makes me whole and happy, something I can use as my center. I just don’t know what that something is. It’s obvious that whatever it is isn’t going to surface tonight, so I get up to stretch and brush through my hair. I’m standing in front of the mirror, mostly green eyes twinkling back at me, when there’s a little knock at the door.

I walk over and open it up to see a grinning Grant looking down at me. His tall body is lined in a simple t-shirt and jeans, like I’m wearing, with his muscles filling out the space perfectly. From his simple sneakers, to his brown eyes and dimples, he looks amazing.

“Ya ready to go, Sunshine?” I give him a little smile and a nod before following him out the door. I can feel the nerves rising up in my blood. After all, this is my first real date. I don’t plan on letting the nerves show, though. Instead, I plan on thoroughly enjoying the evening away from my problems. We make a couple turns before we come to the hall with the massive door to the outside at the end. Grant takes advantage of the moment, taking my hand and leading me to the door, then typing in the security code with his free hand. Unlike the cafeteria and the training room, the door to the outside does not have a public access code. Only those with high enough clearance know it. I try to peek over his shoulder, but Grant casually slips between me and the door, blocking my view. Sighing in disappointment, I look up at Grant to see mischief sparkling in his eyes. He knew exactly what I was doing.

Letting out a little chuckle, I let Grant lead me out into the surrounding jungle. The clearing that I first met him in is surrounded by the buzzing of cicadas and wraparound vines. Grant pulls me down a dirt trail, opposite the direction from Charley’s murder site, until we reach a tiny little conclave. About the diameter of a small entryway, the circular clearing is enclosed by massive Ceiba, Banana, and Red Cedar trees, all with vines inter crossing them. There’s a small opening overhead where light from the fading sunset is trickling in, making the steady thrum of crickets and birds even louder. At the center of the clearing is a picnic blanket, laid out with bottles of water, sandwiches, and at least five kinds of fruit. Tea light candles line the edges of the blanket, giving the clearing a soft glow in the fading light. It’s beautiful. There’s a certain energy in the air that calms and relaxes me, and Grant’s warmth enclosing my hand makes me feel more at home than I have been in a while. I haven’t gone outside since revisiting Charley’s body. This tops that any day.

I smile up at Grant, seeing that he’s just been quiet while the surroundings soak in, “It’s beautiful out here. Thank you for doing all this.” I smile shyly at him while his grin stretches. He’s clearly proud of himself.

“Not a problem, Sunshine. Glad you let me do it.” He winks at me and then leads me to the blanket.

Once we sit down, I give Grant an impish smile, “Okay, twenty questions. Favorite color?”

Grant’s eyes twinkle in amusement as he answers, “Orange. You?”

“Forest green. How about favorite movie?” smiling in return as I reply.

He sits up a little straighter and rubs his chin as if in deep thought before looking back up with a grin, “Raiders of the Lost Ark.”

I let out a little laugh, causing Grant to copy, “Nice. Because of the danger or because of the monkey?”

“The monkey, obviously.”

We continue like that for a while—answering questions, eating sandwiches and strawberries and mangoes, talking about inconsequential things—until long after the sun has gone down. We’re left in only romantic candlelight, the cicadas our only company. I replace myself looking into Grant’s eyes, the golden light reflecting off of them, the rest of his sharp features muted and softened. I don’t know who leans in first, who started what, but the combination of the romantic setting and the pleasant energy around me causes our lips to brush ever so slightly. I close my eyes, savoring the feeling of his warmth, his soft yet firm lips. My fingers come up to wind around the nape of his neck. Grant pulls me close, kissing me slowly, not rushing in the slightest. After a moment that feels like an eternity, we both pull away slowly, breathing deeply. My hands rest on his forearms, his around my waist, and we’re both smiling giddily.

“Wow…” Grant’s voice comes out nothing more than a croak, so he quickly clears his throat and tries again, “Wow. I guess I should probably get you back now.” I nod slowly, never breaking eye contact. Despite our agreement, neither of us moves, staring silently into each other’s eyes. After what has to be at least ten minutes, Grant finally removes his hands from my waist and helps me up onto wobbly legs. Casting me a grin that stays plastered on his face, he leads me back to my room, hand in hand. Saying a quick goodbye and stealing—figuratively—a kiss, Grant leaves me to process the night’s events. I change quickly into some pajamas and wash my face before sitting on the edge of my bed, head buried in my hands and a smile on my face. He’s a good kisser. I giggle like an overgrown schoolgirl and plop onto my back. I’m not usually the type of person to kiss someone so soon in a relationship. I actually don’t know why I did it. What’s wrong with me? Shaking my head, I snap myself out of it. This is Grant we’re talking about. I may not have known him for long, but I trust him, and right now I just want to relive the kiss without thinking of the consequences.

I sigh and smile dreamily, letting my eyes drift shut. Before I know it, I’ve fallen into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.