“This is worse than the shower,” I say, wading through the icy waters.
“Give it a second,” he says, swimming over to me, his body warm as it presses against mine. “See? Not so bad, right?” he asks. I wrap my arm around his neck, keeping him close to me. The sun sparkles against the water, as Hudson points out schools of whitefish underneath our feet.
“I like this,” I say, tracing the illustration etched onto his ribcage with my fingers.
“It’s Narsil,” he explains, “the sword Aragorn is awarded to signify his birthright to the throne.”
“Of course it is,” I tease, knowing that his Lord of the Rings obsession runs deep.
“Did you know that Aragorn reforged the sword to defeat Sauron in the final battle?”
“Is that why you got it?”
“Partly, but I think for me it’s a representation of inner strength. A reminder that, no matter how broken we become, we can always reshape and reforge to become the ruler of our own destiny.”
“That’s beautiful,” I say, before focusing my attention on the words written against his chest, but the script is in a language I don’t understand.
“It says ‘Mor Boe Vanya,’” Hudson says, running my thumb over the tattoo. “It’s Elvish for ‘even darkness must pass.’”
“Wow. So it really is an obsession then,” I say, picking at his fandom.
“More of a comfort thing,” he explains, floating beside me. “My dad wanted me to see the adventure in everything, or at least that’s what he said when he gifted me his copy ofThe Hobbiton my eighth birthday.”
“Those are impressive reading skills.”
“It took me a few years to actually understand it, but it’s my favorite of the series.”
“Oh, I know.”
He raises an eyebrow towards me. “Do you?”
“Everyone always thinks that my job is just capturing the big moments, but I pay attention to the little details too,” I say, floating alongside him.
“And what have you noticed?”
“Besides the fact that you have an indention in almost every pair of your jeans from where you carry it around in your back pocket. I also saw you reading it in the room earlier.”
“Mira, are you admitting to checking out my ass?” he asks, in mock scandal.
“As if you haven’t checked out mine,” I retort, giving his butt a squeeze.
He returns the gesture, resting his lips against my neck. His breath is warm against my skin and he kisses down my shoulder, gently biting against me.
“I also have a confession,” I say, pulling away from him.
“What’s that?” he asks, his voice playful as he moves my hair behind my ear.
“Be warned, it might change everything between us, butFellowship of the Ringis my go-to nap movie.”
“No!” he scoffs, slamming his hands against the water in mock devastation.
“Orlando Bloom doesn’t appear until an hour and a half in. And by then I’m already asleep.”
“You have to watch the extended cuts. That’s where the stories shine.”
“You really think if I can’t get through the standard edition, that those stand a chance?”
“What if we made a date out of it?” he says, as we float further toward the lake’s center.
