My feet lead me down the stone pathway that snakes into Killick Bay. It’s quiet and dark, the stars illuminating from up above, and off in the distance, I spot the lights from the town marking the end of the way. The sounds of the ocean lapping against the rocks feel extra loud tonight in the quiet of the evening.
Once I’m about halfway between the lighthouse and the town, my eyes catch the dancing flames of a bonfire. I don’t know how, but Iknowit’s him. Walking over to the fire, I see a black figure sitting in a lawn chair, facing the orange flickering light. The fire pit is just off the path on the side where the ocean is. As I get closer, I can see he’s got one of his notebooks in his lap, hand delicately holding a pencil as he sketches something. The light from the fire is brightenough that there’s enough of a glow for him to see, but from where I am, I can’t make anything out.
Is he drawing me again?
I sneak up behind him, and when I’m finally close enough for his familiar scent to make its way into my nostrils, my lips quirk into a smile.Dylan. I place a hand on his shoulder and whisper, “Boo,” and he jerks forward before turning his head around and catching my gaze.
He is a sight.
His thick, long hair is pulled up off his face, and the glow from the fire lights up all his features—his sharp jaw, long, slender nose, and that devilish smirk he’s sporting. Just for me.
“Did ya miss me?” I ask as I kneel down on the cold, rocky ground beside him. The heat from the fire warms my chilled body.
He snaps his notebook closed and stands up, offering me his chair. “Of course I did. I thought you weren’t coming until tomorrow.”
I shake my head at his offer, not wanting to steal his only seat, so instead, he sits back down, grabs me by the waist, and pulls me onto his lap. My breath hitches as I make contact with him and try to keep myself composed while I completely invade his personal space.
“I had no plans, so I thought I’d come see you tonight instead.” Looking toward the notebook wedged between him and the camping chair, I bite my lip. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”
He grazes it with his index finger before moving his hand back around me. “Nope. Was just finishing something up.” He gives me a light squeeze before adding, “I’m happy you’re here, Luce.”
“Me too.” I smile. And for a minute, all is right in theworld as we sit together by the fire on this cool late-summer night.
“Want a marshmallow?” he asks as he reaches down and grabs a plastic bag from the ground beside him.
“Sure,” I respond. “Hey, did you bring an entire bag of marshmallows for yourself?”
He pauses as he tears open the bag and pulls one out for me. There’s a stick beside him, leaned up against the chair. He grabs it and offers it to me with the fluffy white marshmallow stuck on the tip.
“Might have brought it just in case,” he says quietly as I melt. “I also have coffee. It’s on your side, in a thermos.”
I turn to face him, holding the stick in my hand. “You knew I’d come?”
His eyes drag down my body until they come back to meet mine. “Didn’t know. Just hoped.” He offers a small smile before shifting in his seat and looking back at the fire. The orange and yellow flames bounce and reflect in his eyes.
I lean back into him and aim my stick over the fire. The marshmallow is instantly coated in flames and blackens. “Shit, shit, shit,” I say, springing forward as I pull it out of the fire and blow on it. What I’m left with after the smoke clears is a burned, black blob. “Ugh, I can’t even roast a marshmallow,” I laugh as my chin dips down. This was never something we did as kids. We were served tarts where the meringue on top always ended up a perfect golden brown, finished with a blowtorch by our chef.
“That’s okay. You made toxic waste.” He squeezes my hip. “That’s the best way to roast a marshmallow.”
“To burn it?” I raise an eyebrow at him.
“Yep.” He leans forward, pulls the sticky, gooey dessert off the stick, and pops half of it into his mouth. “Mmm.”
“Hey, now.” Ipush on his hard chest, turning to face him again. “That was mine.”
His eyes drop to my mouth, and he offers the other half of the marshmallow to me. Instead of grabbing it with my hands like a civilized person would, I open my mouth into an O, lean over, and suck it right off his fingers. He emits a low grunt, and I lick my lips, savouring the sweet, smoky taste as my stomach erupts into butterflies. I press my lips together and turn back toward the fire. Who would have thought I could be so turned on so quickly from a freaking marshmallow.
We sit together until the logs turn to coals, eating blackened marshmallows and sharing the thermos of hot coffee. It’s nice. When there’s no longer an orange glow from the fire, he checks his wristwatch, noting it’s getting close to midnight.
“You should stay over tonight.” We get up so he can put the fire out with a bucket of water he carried here. “It’s late, and I bought you some clothes to sleep in. So you don’t need to wear mine anymore.”
What if I don’t mind wearing yours?
“You didn’t have to do that,” I tell him. “Let’s share the bed, at least. You’re too tall for that couch, anyway.”
I catch a hint of something in his eyes before it disappears. “Okay, as long as you’re sure.”
We make our way back to the lighthouse, side by side, my mind racing with thoughts.Sharing a bed together. Nothing can happen. Stay friends. You’re keeping a secret from him.Sometimes I feel like I could crumple from the weight of everything I’m carrying in my head, but then he glances at me, showcasing that wide grin, and it all seems to melt away for a moment.
