First Comes Love - Ashlee Price Page 0,28

says.

“Oh?”

“I used to listen to my parents, until I realized they were just flawed people.”

Surprised, I glance at her and she grimaces. “Sorry. I’m tired and a bit dopey. Kind of a depressing thing to say.”

“It’s true, though,” I admit. “It’s a sad day when you realize they aren’t the omnipotent beings you once thought they were.”

“But necessary,” she agrees, “to becoming an adult. That and owning your shit. Like, even if they did screw you up, it’s your responsibility to unscrew yourself.”

I laugh and inwardly curse myself at the same time. God, she’s so cool and fresh and honest and yet… why in the fuck do I have to get a boner when she says the word ‘screw’?

“So, how’s that going for you?” I find myself asking. “Unscrewing yourself.”

“It’s a process.”

Silence, then she says, “Hey, as much as I like wandering through potentially treacherous rainforests with no aim in sight, what are we doing?”

I freeze, and this time curse out loud.

You fuckwad. This is no way for a producer to act, and maybe even endangering Harley too?

Luckily, I’ve been leading us in wide circles around the still smoldering campfire, so we aren’t too far off.

“Shit, sorry, I…”

I trail off. I’m not about to admit that being around her messes with my head in a way I’ve never experienced before. That it’s almost like being in the producer’s chair, a clarity, a loss of time, a focus, a desire to stay in the state as long as humanly possible.

Get it together, Greyson.

I make a mental note to call up Nolan. He’s always been good at sorting out my brothers whenever they think they’ve found ‘the one’.

I point up overhead. “Thought you should see these.”

“Oh, I…” She falls silent as she sees what I see. Seeing them through her eyes, it’s like seeing them for the first time.

A mind-shattering amount of stars. The kind of view you expect to see in the middle of the desert maybe, or in some high-res image in a nature museum exhibit. Not just randomly trekking and happening to look up.

There’s big stars, small stars, spread-out dots of stars, constellations of stars.

“It makes you think.” Her voice is soft and clear in the night, like an auditory star. Our hands have found each other’s, hers cool and fitting right in mine. “Who else has seen stars like these? Peoples all throughout history, maybe even beings on other planets. Even me, as a kid, I was so self-absorbed, I didn’t give a shit about stars or stuff like that, so whenever I did see them, I didn’t really see them, if you know what I mean?”

I can feel her gaze on me. And I do know, but putting it into words, what I hadn’t even consciously realized but now know, seemed impossible.

What other things were right in front of me, obvious and beautiful now, yet that I couldn’t see for all the world?

All I know is that her hand feels right in mine and that this now, whatever it is, I don’t want it to stop.

“It’s a good shot,” she says, after a time, her hand drawing out of mine.” I’ll go get my camera.”

My hand is cold with hers gone.

The next few minutes pass as part of the flow: I direct and she responds, the two of us working like two limbs of the same beast, like a connected mind. By the time she’s captured the shots, I don’t need to look back on the footage to know that she’s captured a winner.

After, all there is left to do is take one more look at the ceiling of beauty we’ve been sleeping under unknowingly all this time.

“So,” she says.

“So,” I say.

My body is itchy with her closeness, my arms empty with how she should be in them. I wet my lips and twist myself towards my tent.

“We should get to bed.” I force all emotion out of my voice.

I want her. I want her with a wildness that’s unfamiliar, a tenderness that feels dangerous.

“We should,” she agrees.

She doesn’t move. I don’t move.

Get the hell out of here.

Kiss her, take her, you know you want to.

My thoughts fight each other, until I stride ahead, not daring to look back, not even daring to say a word because autopilot and my want would take over.

She catches my arm. “Greyson.”

I spin her into my arms, and all self-control falls away.

Our lips meet and what follows follows. Behind a big ceiba tree, in sight of the camp, yet far enough