I laugh, watching him, his enthusiasm infectious. He’s a complete dork but utterly amazing and undeniably cute.
“Can you hear it, Amelia?” he asks, his eyes sparkling with excitement.
I pause, listening to the gentle rustle of the trees and the distant calls of morning birds, mixed with the steady thump of my own heartbeat. “Hear what?” I ask, genuinely puzzled.
Misha grins widely. “Every time I see something special, something that makes me grateful to be alive, I hear this song in my head. “Midnight City” by M83. Can you hear it?”
I shake my head, still grinning. “No, I can’t hear it.”
Undeterred, Misha starts to hum and then yells, “Ba doo doo ba! Ba doo doo ba!”
He grabs my hands, pulling me to stand with him, and begins to sway, to dance with me. “Come on, Amelia! Just feel it!”
Laughing, I let myself be swept along by his energy, dancing and swaying to his rendition of the song as the sun climbs higher, casting a golden-orange sheen across his face. His joy is so vivid andpalpable. It feels like it brightens everything around us, including me.
He’s living sunshine.
Misha stops his dance, and I stop, too, as he reaches out, tucking a windblown strand of hair behind my ear. His voice softens, almost lost in the wind. “See how life gets brighter if you’re just willing to sit through the darkness long enough?”
It really does.
Standing there, with Misha’s hand in mine, dancing to a song only he hears, I feel a rush of life, of joy I hadn’t known I was missing.
It’s the most alive I’ve ever felt.
TWENTY-ONE
The morning lightgently seeps through the windows, casting a glow onto the kitchen countertop where I’m preparing a cup of tea. As I pour the steaming water over the tea bag, I can’t help but pause. The warmth of the cup in my hands mingles with the memories of yesterday.
The way the sunrise had burst through the horizon, splashing the world in hues of gold, was so vivid, so alive, and the dim light through the windows seemed to echo that moment. It’s as if every sunrise from now on will hold that wild beauty.
And Misha’s smile.
I grimace as I turn and take a step toward the living room. It appears my legs echo the memory as well.
“How are you this morning, Amelia?” Jamie asks.
“Sore, Jamie. Very sore.” I groan as I walk to the couch and lower myself in slow motion. Every muscle aches. It was fun, exhilarating even, but clearly, my regular treadmill sessions aren’t adequate preparation for even a mild hike.
Who knew walking up a hill could be so exhausting?
I don’t think I ever felt like that after a hike with August. Which reminds me, I need to check my emails.
Maybe I should try and call him.
“It seems like muscle soreness after exercise is quite normal, especially if the activity level is higher than usual. It should pass in a few days,” Jamie offers, the concern in his tone almost making me laugh.
“Thanks, I hope it does. I’ve got plans with Grey later, and at this rate, I’ll be waddling like a penguin.”
“You might consider a warm bath and perhaps some stretching,” Jamie suggests.
“Maybe.”
After setting the mug on the coffee table, I lean back and let a smile spread over my face.
The stars, the predawn chill, Misha’s laughter echoing around us.
“You’re amazing. You’re someone I want to be like when I grow up.”
