Wink, Wink

After my little confession, the girls had felt obliged to divulge all their tips and tricks on how to be a good kisser.

I had sat back and listened in amusement as they coached me to be careful with tongue and not become a slobbery kisser. Not to be too stiff and overeager, and as Hannah said most importantly to not give in too soon. To nibble, bit, and tease until the air was charged and both of you were ready to create; quote on quote 'lightning'.

Though at first, annoyed and feeling judged by their comments and questions, I had quickly learned that they were just worried about me. Granted it was unwarranted if you asked me, but it was all in good fun so I wasn't about to burst their bubble.

It had been late when we had all retreated to our rooms.

Harper had plopped on the bed, mumbling a preamble good night before promptly going to sleep.

I, however, could not find the elusive land of euphoria that was sleep.

It evaded me, and I had given up on even trying to fall asleep.

The room we had been assigned faced the water and with the window that we had left uncovered open, the moon's reflection cast an eerie silver light into the room.

With a final glance toward a sleeping Harper, I flung the duvet off my body and slipped into the flip-flops at the end of my bed.

As quietly as I could, I crept out of the room, making sure to close the door behind me. I then tiptoed down the main hallway and hoped to God that the chaperones, staying in the house in the middle between the girls and boys houses, were as gone to the world as the girls were.

I breathed a sigh of relief as I shut the door screen door shut and proceeded to walk as quietly as humanly possible to the makeshift lakefront.

Though we were at a lake, as I got closer to the body of water, I noticed what seemed like sand lining the outer perimeter.

The dock and boats sat off to the sides on either side of me, swaying slightly from the cool night breeze.

As my flip flops came into contact with the sand and the little granules hit the backs of my legs, I noticed a dark figure looming off to the corner.

Alarmed, a part of me thought to retreat and hide in the blanket of darkness, but something propelled me to stop and watch as the figure throw something in the water.

I was too far away to hear the heavy rock drop into the water, and too far away to hear what the figure was saying, but I knew they said something.

Because despite my uncertainty of our relationship at the moment, I knew that the lone figure wearing the black hoodie had stormy grey-blue eyes and dark unruly hair.

I knew they hated chocolate and loved anything and everything that had to do with 80s music and television. I knew that despite their cool and calm exterior, they knew more than they let on, saw more then the should at times.

And perhaps the most important of all, I knew that they were ignoring me and probably didn't want to talk to me anytime soon. But without even intending to, my legs moved forward and I soon found myself sitting down beside the figure.

"How was your game.?" I asked as a way of greeting.

Noah didn't so much as move to acknowledge my presence or question.

A minute of silence went by before he answered. "It was good."

I turned to face him, noting his sharp profile. Prominent nose, high cheekbones, and full supple lips. The glow of the moon made him look like the strong roman heroes in epics. The energy around him told of his self-assured nature and hinted at the underlying turmoil only someone who had experienced hell and survived could have.