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I can be brave when I want to be.
To prove it to myself, I take my tray of food to the nearly full table. A few heads notice me approaching and look up, but I keep my gaze firmly fixed on the back of Kellyn’s head.
Otherwise I just might bolt.
When I come to a full stop behind him, I realize he hasn’t noticed me yet.
Obviously. His back is turned, idiot.
Do I clear my throat? Speak up? Tap Kellyn on the shoulder? Another person at the table is speaking, and it would be rude to cut him off. Yet, if I do nothing, I stand here like a dolt.
I’m panicking. I feel my legs shaking, and I want to run far, far away.
I take the seat without asking.
Every muscle in my body snaps taut. I’m stuck here, and I probably just stole someone’s seat. What if they were just in the lavatory or something?
Oh Twins. What have I done? Why did I ever think I could—
And then a big arm wraps around me, and Kellyn puts his lips to my temple.
And everything is just fine.
Well, not really. I’m still surrounded by strangers, and I hatemost everything about this situation. But Kellyn is touching me, and I really like that.
I did the hard part; now I just need not to overreact.
I try listening to the conversation.
“… and then the mercenary lands me flat on my back!” one of the younger men at the table says. The rest break out into more laughter.
Kellyn leans into me. “I helped with some of the training today. Made some new friends.”
After one day?
I’ve never made this many friends in my entire life.
“They seem to like you,” I respond.
“What’s not to like?”
“I can think of some things.”
He grins and nuzzles my hair right in front of everyone. As though he wants to make it perfectly and publicly clear just who I’m with. As though he’s proud to be with me.
But such a public display of affection makes me a little uncomfortable, so I think I’ll let him know that when we’re alone. He won’t mind, I’m sure.
“Who’s this?” another one of the men asks, clearly meaning me. I try not to visibly shrink back.
Kellyn turns to me, giving me the option to answer.
“I’m Ziva.”
“You didn’t tell us you were married,” one of the men says to Kellyn.
“I’m not,” Kellyn answers. “Ziva and I have only been together for a few weeks.”
It would have been longer, had I not broken things off while we journeyed. But Kellyn makes no indication to show his thoughts have turned where mine have.
