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She’s so unabashedly naked, no trace of her previous maidenly shyness in sight. And that makes her…different. There’s a different confidence about her. I’ve noticed this from the moment she dropped her act. It’s still her, but now it’s more. And I’m equally wary as I am fascinated by it.
“It’s also the worst area for us to build our shelter in. I think we should go back to the crash site and use what we can from the collapsed half to make a shelter,” I point out.
Noelle is pensive for a moment.
“You’re right. But first let’s get food.”
Nodding, I watch her step closer to the water, dabbing some water over her body and washing herself before putting on her clothes again. I do the same, and when we’re ready, we find a good position alongside the riverbank and we wait.
Noelle insists on taking one gun.
“You said you shouldn’t strain yourself. The simple act of holding the gun and attempting to aim is going to cause a strain. I’m handling this,” she says confidently.
My first instinct is to argue. But then I remember how she’d shot Santiago—which I’m still mad about. She’d had perfect aim, and she’d done it without much fuss. That tells me she knows exactly what she’s doing.
“Fine,” I shake my head, a slight smile playing on my lips. “The stage is all yours,” I say as I lean back, simply watching her.
Her brows are pinched together in a frown as she focuses on her surroundings.
“I used to hunt with my brother before,” she adds “I’m not a stranger to this if you’re wondering.”
I raise a curious brow at her but don’t comment. I think I need to stop being so surprised by every little thing she does since it’s clear that I only ever scratched the surface with her.
“I haven’t said a thing,” I laugh. “You’re in charge.”
The corners of her mouth tip up.
“I’m in charge, huh? And you’ll let me?”
Her head turns slightly to me as she watches me intently.
“I know I’m in charge where it matters,” I add vaguely, but she clearly gets the innuendo as her cheeks redden.
She looks away.
Well, I might have been wrong on one account. She might be oozing confidence most times, but there’s still something oddly innocent about her andsomeof her reactions.
And that… Strangely, that warms my heart.
Because it tells memyNoelle is still there. That it wasn’t all a lie.
“You’re taking this better than I thought,” she notes.
“What do you mean?” I frown.
“I haven’t injured your male pride yet?”
“Why would my pride be injured because you can handle yourself?”
She shrugs.
“I don’t know. Other men would take offense to it.”
“I’m not other men, Noelle. You know exactly what I take offense to, and it’s not that you’re a good shooter,” I add drily.
She purses her lips, undoubtedly knowing what I refer to.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
