Page 57 of Catching Camila

They sat for a moment in silence. In the valley, a coyote howled. The silence was killing him. What was she thinking? Would this end it between them? “I’m sorry, Camila.”

She looked into his eyes. “John, why are you apologizing?”

John shrugged. “I don't know. I don't want to be different. I don't even know where I came from.”

Camila's face softened. “What did Nomad say?”

“He told me I was an alien scout sent here to do reconnaissance and report back.”

Her face tightened. “Report back to who?”

John shrugged. “We didn't get that far.”

“What about the killings? Did he know who did them?”

John looked out over the river. “He knows.”

“Was it him, John? Oh God, they showed me a sketch. At first it looked like you, but then when I looked closer I thought it might be Nomad.” She twisted the ends of her hair between her fingers and looked up at him.

He dropped his eyes. “I don't think it was him, but it wasn’t me. I swear.”

She dropped her eyes to her hands. “Are you going to meet up with him again?”

“No. I don't think he was too happy with me when I left.” John twisted a few strands of grass around his fingers. Nomad. Every time he thought about him, he wanted to take Camila and run far, far away. And yet, there was another side of him that wanted to pepper Nomad with questions and untangle his past. How could he have both?

“Listen,” John said. “If you see Nomad, I want you to hide, okay? He's not a good guy.”

Camila nodded. “Yeah. That’s what I was trying to tell you.”

“I should've listened to you.”

Camila reached for his hand. When her fingers laced through his own, tingles shot up his arm. His heart sped up.

“You needed to know,” she said, rubbing her thumb over his hand. “I understand.”

He met her gaze. Moonlight reflected in her brown irises. Her dark hair rippled in the breeze. She pressed her lips together and then parted them slightly. She blinked and leaned closer.

He could barely contain the beating of his heart as he pulled her to him.

Their lips met. The softness of her mouth, the sweetness of her tongue overwhelmed him. She tasted like spring. One of her hands locked at the back of his neck. The other gripped his shoulder. He cupped his hands under her chin as her body pressed into his, every curve angling, filling him up. He could feel himself coming alive, and more, his desire burned brightly in his chest. God, he wanted her. Every square inch of her.

She pulled away, breathless, her eyes searching his face. A small smile lit the corners of her mouth. “That was…”

“Magic,” he whispered.

She leaned in, laying her head on his chest as he held her in his arms. He inhaled and took in the scent of her.

“That was better than any kiss I’ve ever had.” She lifted her face to his, tossing a dark strand of hair out of her eyes. “Have you kissed a human before?”

He shook his head, twining his fingers through the hair that brushed her shoulders. “Not that I remember.”

She smiled. “Good.”

He looked out over the moonlit landscape. Hold this moment, he thought. There won't be another like it.

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