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home watching TV or in bed. We alternated between her house and my apartment. My place was closer to our jobs but hers was nicer.
I felt comfortable with her. And I think she felt the same way around me. Out in public, I still felt awkward. I couldnt take her hand when walking along the beach or put my arms around her at the mall for fear of attracting all sorts of unwanted attention. On the few occasions when we did so, I discovered that we were either being started at disapprovingly by older people or gawked at by horny young men.
I spent the next Friday night in her bed. We made love all night. It was cool enough to leave the windows open and with the warm ocean breeze and waves crashing on the shore, the atmosphere was perfect for romance.
Waking up in her arms made me realise how lonely I had been for the past few months. I watched her sleep for a long time. She looked so peaceful. So beautiful. That was the morning I vowed to do everything in my power to hold on to her.
We spent a lazy Saturday around her house. After dinner, with the sun setting, we sat on the beach as the clouds streaked with reds and oranges. I leaned back into her arms. This stretch of sand was devoid of tourists; they were further south with the hotels and resorts. Her neighbourhood was gated and the beach fenced off so other people on the beach were few and far between.
Her strong arms were wrapped around me. I turned my head and nuzzled up against her neck. She let out a contented sigh. Her eyes were closed and there was a slight smile on her lips.
"You are a wonderful kisser," she said in my ear.
"So are you," I replied.
"Can I ask you something?" she said after a long pause.
"Anything, sweetheart."
She didnt say anything for while. I sensed that she was building up to something, so I remained silent. My lips nibbled at her neck and the underside of her jaw.
"Did you . . . um, do you wish . . ." McKayla faltered for a second. "Are you happy with the way things are going . . . you know . . . between us?"
"Yes," I replied quickly, not wanting her insecurities and fear of commitment to take over. "Are you?"
She turned and looked me in the eyes. "Yes . . . more than you can know."
"I was worried that I was going to scare you off," I admitted. "That first day I was with you . . . I knew what I wanted . . . I knew I was right in asking you out."
"Im glad you did," McKayla said. "I wish I had the guts to make a pass at you months ago."
"Why didnt you?"
"Because you werent sending me any of the usual signals," she replied. "And you were kind of seeing that guy . . . whats his
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name? Travis."
I blushed and looked away. My fuck buddy.
"And I didnt . . ." her voice trailed off for a moment. "I didnt want to just have a fling with you. I wanted more than just a one night stand."
"Why?"
"I dont know," she replied. "I think it was because I didnt meet you in a bar. You were more than just a girl I could fuck and then leave the next day."
Inwardly, my stomach flipped, and not in the bad way. McKayla was telling me that she felt the same way I did about "us". My pulse began to race.
McKaylas arms tensed around me, pulling me close to her. She took a deep breath. "Ive been praying a lot lately. Ive been looking for direction. For purpose . . ."
I kissed her gently on the cheek. Her mask of certainty slipped away. My hands closed over hers and I squeezed her reassuringly. It was good to know that she reciprocated the feelings I had for her. I also wanted to take this woman in my arms and hold on to her. Maybe it was some maternal instinct to protect the people we care about.
Or maybe I was falling in love.
Her lips met mine and I melted into her embrace. The two of us stayed like that for a long time. Neither of us said anything else. We didnt have to.
The moon was out before we got up and went inside.
"I have something for you," McKayla said, letting go of my hand and pushing the sliding glass door open. "Ill be right back."
When she returned, she held a box that was wrapped in elegant silver paper with a big bow. It was a lot heavier than I expected. I looked up at her incredulously. She only smiled.
I slipped the paper off the parcel and opened up the box. Inside was a thick, leather-bound book. There was a faux-lock on the cover, like you might see on a wizards spellbook in a Lord of the Rings movie. The pages were thick and gilded with gold. The volume had been carefully made up to appear as it had come to life from a fantasy world.
My eyes welled up as I read the words on the cover, The Elfstones of Shannara.
"Where did you—?" I gasped.
McKayla smiled—that beautiful, haunting smile that made my heart melt—and pulled me close. "Theres this thing . . . its called the internet . . ."
I was laughing and crying at the same time. I pressed my forehead against hers. Our noses brushed together.
"Thank you," I whispered.
"Youre welcome," she replied warmly and we kissed again. "Just one thing, though: You just have to promise that youre not going to turn into a giant tree."
Tears began to roll down my cheeks. It had been years since I had read the story, but I knew the gist of it and how my namesake ended up at the end of the book.
"You read it?" I asked. I set the book down on
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