“Come on. I’ve saved the best for last.” I extend my hand.
She stands there still as a statue, staring at my outstretched hand.
At first, I think she’s about to reject it, but then I catch the look in her eyes. It’s not hesitation but curiosity, like she’s trying to figure me out.
She fingers the bottom of her long, dark-brown hair, still contemplating.
I wiggle my fingers. “I promise I don’t bite.”
She exhales softly, and then, after a few moments, she slides her hand into mine.
The moment our fingers intertwine, goose bumps prickle my skin, and I notice her body shiver on contact.
This is the shit you only see in the movies.
I never thought it was real. But this feeling is as real as it gets.
My eyes rise slowly, unsure what to make of our strong connection, and I’m met with her big emerald eyes. They’re bright and unreadable, a contradiction I suddenly want to unravel.
But I’m also positive she’s scared.
And I get it.
Knowing what I do about Mason and his family, I doubt she’s had much experience with guys her age.
I want to reassure her.Of what, I don’t know.
I barely know her, barely know what would make her feel safe with me. But something deep in my gut tells me she would listen to anything I said like it mattered.
Like I mattered.
And I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted something more.
Maddie Grace
Is this what it feels like to be alive?
If it is, then please, someone, let me live forever.
When my hand is securely in Nate’s, he squeezes it a few times and then leads us toward the lake.
It’s hard for me not to stare. I’ve never met anyone like him.
He’s devastatingly handsome, with his flirty grin and sharply chiseled jaw, and he walks around here like he owns the place.
He’s boisterous and friendly to most. Sometimes a bit reserved with the people he doesn’t know, but never cocky.
He’s kind to everyone we’ve encountered: other campers, staff, and even wildlife. He picked up a snake on the trail and moved it off the main path so it wouldn’t get trampled.
Every second we’ve spent together, I like him a little more than the last.
“My brother said you sail.” I’m glad I’ve remembered the tidbit, eager to contribute more to the conversation.
Nate’s done the majority of the talking for the last hour, and as much as I love listening to his deep voice and learning things about him, I don’t want him to think I’m just a spectator, uninterested in conversing with him.
That couldn’t be further from the truth.
I’m nervous.
