Day 30
Him
Isleep like shit, but that’s to be expected considering the forest floor and the thin cushioning beneath me.
I still manage to wake up just before sunrise, though, and as I flip over to my side, my eyes immediately go to her, just like they always do.
How long have I known her for now? Ten days?
And yet I can’t take my eyes off of her longer than a few minutes.
Not just because she’s pretty, with her delicate features and long, soft-looking hair. And not because she’s hot, either, with those curves that I finally got to see as she bathed the other day—this girl should seriously be banned from ever putting on another hoodie.
No, it’s nothing surface-level that makes her this… fascinating to me.
It’s the little spark of insanity that she showed me, but contrary to what she might think, she didn’t really scare me. Not in the way she believes she did, anyway.
The only scary thing about it was how much I wanted to smash her mouth against my own.
I can’t let her get close; I know that, and yet, I want to. Not in a loving, healthy, doting way. I want to tear her apart and rebuild her around me. I want to peel back every layer until there’s nothing left in her that hasn’t been seen or touched or owned by me and my destructive, filthy hands.
Growing up, I used to think I was cursed. That maybe there was something contaminated in me, a disease, a reversed Midas’ touch that turned everything I ever touched into pain and disappointment and ruin.
But can I really tarnish something that’s already tainted?
And that’s the scary part, that has me staring at her as she sleeps, unaware that the drop of crazy she let out by the lake has settled right at home inside my ocean.
What if I find myself in her?
I let myself entertain the thought for one second longer before banishing it away, sliding out of my sleeping bag and placing a hand on her shoulder. She stirs awake almost immediately, and her confused, sleepy blink nearly makes me smile before I get a hold of myself.
“It’s almost sunrise,” I mutter. “I’ll wait for you outside.”
She nods, her blue eyes not fully open yet, and I leave the tent to let her find her bearings.
I step toward the viewpoint that must have attracted tourists by the dozens back when things were normal.
We camped far enough from it so we wouldn’t risk accidentally falling off the edge, but close enough that she spots me easily when she leaves the tent, and I hear her sharp intake of breath long before she comes to sit at my side.
We just stay there silently, for a while, as light inches higher and higher over the horizon, the sun slowly peeking above the treetops below, the first rays gracing the endless green terrain.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I barely recognize the soft voice that leaves me. I’m not really the poetic type.
“So much that it’s overwhelming.” She hugs her knees to her chest. “Makes me feel so small.”
I know what she means. Sitting there on the vantage point, we’re supposed to feel on top of the world, but it’s the exact opposite. It just feels like the world is so much bigger than we could ever imagine.
And it sure feels vast when I remind myself that it’s empty.
Not entirely empty, a gentle inner whisper reasons, and I turn my eyes from the scenery to the girl sitting next to me.
The orange tint of the sunrise makes her skin glow.
She looks almost magical, like this. She stares at the horizon with a million thoughts swirling behind those big blue eyes, and I want to hear each and every one of them.
I suddenly get the overwhelming sense that, if I’d have allowed us to get to know each other, I could’ve probably talked to her for hours.
About how meaningless it all feels some days. How tiny we are in this big, vacant world. How insignificant.
When she does speak about it, there’s a depth to her carefully selected words that I’ve never encountered before. Like her thoughts run on a more complex wavelength. And I find myself wanting to hear them, because they’re somehow a perfect echo to my own.
She’s silent and beautiful just like the view, but I realize that I could get lost in her for much longer than a week. Maybe even a lifetime.
“We should get going,” she sighs at last, turning her gaze to me, and her breath hitches when she catches me looking.
Tell me your name, the words hang on the tip of my tongue. And then tell me more. And more. Give me all you have until nothing’s left hidden inside you.
But instead, all that comes out is, “Yeah. We should.”