The night is come, but not too soon.
~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I’m wide awake.
The station is dark and still. The clock is moving slower than normal. Dustin’s heavy breathing is the only sound in my bunk—like death by a thousand snores. I roll over and check the time on my cell—again.
Forget it. I can wait for her in the kitchen. No use lying here tossing around.
I get up, slip into my slides and quietly inch out of the room. Stealthy as the soldier I’ve been trained to be.
Dustin rustles and rolls over, mumbling something about "Emberleigh," and “Babe,” and “Six kids,” and “grab the baby.” I almost chuckle, but I swallow my laughter, carefully shutting our door behind me.
I cross the bay and when I open the kitchen door, the warm yellow light over the stove illuminates her smile. Therestless energy I’ve been battling all night settles at the sight of her.
“You’re here?” I ask. “I thought we said midnight.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” Hallie says in a whisper.
Dustin and Patrick can’t hear us—they’re across the bay, sound asleep.
“Me either,” I confess in a matching hushed tone. “I never fell asleep. Just laid there watching the clock.”
She smiles. “Want cocoa?”
“No.”
“No?”
“No. I want something else.”
“Juice?” she asks as I tread across the kitchen in her direction.
“No.”
“Water?” Her cheeks flush.
“No.”
“Tea?”
I’m right in front of her, caging her against the counter.
She looks up at me, her breath fanning my cheeks, eyes wide and fixed on mine.
“You,” I say, plainly.
“Oh.”
Her tongue darts out and wets her bottom lip.
“I want to kiss you, Hallie.”
She nods. “You should.”
I lean in, like a man parched from a day in smoke and ash with no relief. She’s the hydrant, and I’m cupping my hands around her chin. Finally, refreshment.
She leans into me, looping her arms around me, toying with my hair, driving me crazy. I can’t get enough of her.
