Offering a smile, I say, “Hey.”
She doesn’t smile back. “Are you snooping around my room?”
“Snooping?” My head jerks back, but then I realize how this must look. “No, of course not.”
She looks around like she’s checking whether I touched anything. “Then what? Is this like some weird hippie thing? Are you trying to feel my aura or summon spirits or something?”
I wrinkle my nose. “What?”
She gives me a sideways look. “Do you not, like, do that aura sensing thing?”
“Well ... I guess, kind of—”
“Called it.” Adingsounds from her pocket, and she grabs her phone, swiping the screen. She doesn’t look up when she says, “You’re weirding me out, so if you could leave, that’d be great.” When I laugh, she pauses texting to scowl at me. “Look, I’m tired, and I’ve had a long day, so—”
“Kimmie, I’m not here to ... sense your aura.” I swallow back another laugh as I take a step toward her, holding out what I came here to give her. “I’m here because I owe you a shirt.”
She stares at the white fabric.
“It’s cute, right?” I move closer, setting my purse down by the door and adjusting the marbled, short-sleeved T-shirt so she can view the front. There’s a circle of autumn-colored flowers and plants in the center, and inside the circle reads:Not Today, Satan. “I picked it up at the farmers market. I was thinking you could roll the sleeves up a bit more if you wanted, and it has this little side-knot at the bottom too, see?” I tug on the knot, but she’s still just staring.
After a second, she lifts an eyebrow. “That bohemian thing is supposed to replace my Ralph Lauren shirt?”
“If you want it to.” I shrug, glancing from the shirt to Kimmie and taking in her outfit. “Actually, it’d look awesome with those jeans you’re wearing.”
“Why’s your face like that?”
I frown, touching my cheek. “Like what?”
“All red on one side.”
“Oh, it’s probably from the grass. I was at the park doing my homework, and I took a nap under the tree for a while.”
She rolls her eyes to the ceiling. “Oh. My.God. Just leave the shirt on my dresser on your way out.”
I can’t stop the grin stretching across my face. “Okay.”
I set it on her dresser and leave, feeling good about today. I was supposed to email some pictures to my mom, but I figure I can get Tim’s help scanning them sometime tomorrow. It’s not until I’m already in my bedroom, pushing the window open and gazing into the dark sky, that I realize I left my purse in Kimmie’s room.
Closing the window, I tiptoe back down the hall. Her door is cracked again, my purse just within reach, so I quietly slip my arm through the opening to grab it. But I pause midway, my hand on the strap. Across the room is Kimmie. She’s standing in front of her full-size mirror wearing the shirt I gave her. She tightens the side-knot so it shows a bit of skin, rolls the sleeves up once, and tilts her head, squinting at her reflection.
Then her lips curve.
And I smile before slipping away.
It’s still semi-dark when my eyes drift open, but it feels like morning—new, blooming,alive. I glance around the shadowed bedroom for a minute, then out the open window. Cold air flits across my skin, seeping under the thin material of my loose crop top and pajama shorts. It zips down my spine as I slip off the bed. I love the weather here: unpredictable and wild, shifting from hot to cold like it has a mind of its own.
After grabbing my camera, I poke my head into the empty hall and pad barefoot down the stairs, through the wide living room and kitchen, then out the back door.
It’s hauntingly quiet outside, with only the soft whooshing of the wind to keep me company. The pool glistens like I’m standing inside a painting, and there’s just enough daylight spreading through the night sky to make it glitter. It’s beautiful. I don’t know how so many people sleep through this time of day. I guess because they have no idea what they’re missing.
Setting my camera down, I lie on my back in the grass. Then I stare at the sky. It’s so deep. With endless colors and invisible wavelengths stretching across the universe and touching my little patch of earth.
Sometimes, when I really let myself feel all that surrounds me in this great big world, it steals the breath straight from my lungs.
“Might wanna get up.”
My head whips toward the low rumble on my right, where the fading night partially shadows Joshua Hunt. He’s resting a shoulder against the doorframe of the guesthouse, hands loosely in the pockets of his sweats, one ankle crossed over the other. He’s shirtless, and his hair’s rumpled like he just rolled out of bed after a restless night.
