Page 79 of The Kiss of Deception

“We could.”

Picnic blankets are spread with an array of healthy foods: fresh fruits, Greek yogurt, protein pancakes and waffles… all strictly conforming to his dietary regime. And the inevitable candy bar. All my treats. Because it was my suggestion.

A day off. No pretenses, no pressures, no third parties. Just a boy and a girl and a picnic basket.

Under the weeping willow, the grass is cool and welcoming, courtesy of the shade. We pull our current books and we snack as we vanish into someone else’s stories.

“You’re staring,” Miles says without moving his eyes from his page.

I can’t keep the grin off my face, unashamed at getting caught. “You’re blushing.”

“Am I?” He lays the book over his bare chest, pinning his full attention on me. “I suppose a beautiful girl watching you is bound to have that effect.”

“A beautiful girl,” I parrot sillily before I can process how loud my voice is.

He hums as he reconsiders his own statement, determining it insufficient. “Not just any girl.” He shifts, supporting his weight on one forearm. “And not just beautiful.”

Here we are, in the heart of nature, in the lungs of the city—and there isn’t enough oxygen in the air.

“Looks like we have another thing in common.” Miles watches his knuckle brush across my cheek, the heat that spreads in there. “You’re blushing, too.”

“I do not blush,” I deny in a breathless puff.

“You blush. So prettily, too.” He takes his hand back, flexing it one, two times before he lies down and goes back to his fairy tale.

I snap my mystery book closed and push myself to my knees. “Do not. It just so happens we’re overdue for a dip.”

The scrunch of his face tells me he isn’t excited with my idea. “You want to take a dip in that dirty water?”

“I’m hearing only excuses.”

I start towards the river, unpeeling the strapless crop top that clings with a light sheen of sweat, then my shorts. I’ve foregone a bra, one of the perks of a small chest, so I’m all bare skin and a pair of silky black panties.

Uncommonly bold, I dip my toes in the chilly Charles and throw a quick look over my shoulder. “You coming, or what?”

Miles remains in place, but the book is thrown somewhere beside him, his gaze on my tattoo now as he mutters something under his breath. My panties are damp before water laps at them.

The chill bite on my feet triggers goosebumps all over my body, but I don’t hide myself. Instead, I trudge further into unknown waters until it laps at my collarbone.

Miles follows.

“I didn’t know you had a tattoo on your leg,” he rasps, sending ripples in the river that make my nipples pebble painfully harder.

My eyes drop to the art on his chest, half hiding under the water, half bathing in sunlight: an ornate hourglass, cradled by vines that weaves and wraps around the two glass bulbs, mirrors of each other. Innumerable grains of sands succumb to gravity’s hand, suffocating the narrow neck. One of them has penetrated, forever suspended in the air in a fall that’ll never end.

Below, there’s the bloom of a bug into an intricate butterfly with velvety wings, phase after phase illustrated with careful detail and utter realism. The word metamorphosis vertically completes it in straight capital letters.

“An unprecedented impulse.” That’s the best depiction of the barbed wire, a permanent garter on my left leg. I’ve yet to settle on whether I regret it. Right now, I don’t. “What about yours?”

“A reminder.” He crawls closer, the ripples of the river hitting just under my collarbones. “That the only constant in life is change. It’s scary, but freeing too.” He delivers the words softly, a secret meant to stay between us. “It reminds me that bad things won’t last forever. Good things don’t, either, so it reminds me to slow down and enjoy life, too.”

Droplets of water return to the river in soft patters as my arm stretches for him, to trace his skin with a new layer of invisible ink.

I’ve always feared change. Perhaps because the first big shift of my life resulted in a little girl grieving the loss of the people she loved.

Then, change arrived in the form of Miles Blackstein.

He’s shown me change can be for the better, too. He came in and tilted my entire existence out of its millimetrically designed orbit. He opened my eyes to all the changes I’ve been too blind to see, hidden below the opaque veil of my fears.

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