The moment is perfect to lean in and kiss her. And I badly want to put my hand on her cheek and bring my lips to hers.
Addison looks at her wrist, my fingers still there. “I should go,” she says shattering my thoughts.
I slide my hand from her wrist, along her palm, lingering on her fingertips with my own. Looking up into her eyes, I ask, Are you sure you want to?”
She meets my eyes. “No.” Her voice whispers the simple word I was hoping she would say. “But they’re expecting me down there.” My stomach aches when she starts to get up. “Thanks for catching me when I fell.” She brushes the sand off her dress and walks through the wheat grass toward the shore.
“You’re a freak like me,” Naya says, no doubt present in her tone.
Shaken by her word choice, but intrigued to know why she’s chosen it, I ask, “Am I? And how do you know that?” I swallow nothing, feeling my throat constrict as I wait for her answer.
With concern on her face, her lips purse, and she shrugs one shoulder. “I just know.” She touches my arm, leans into me and whispers, “As a friend, just be careful. The people here,” she looks to her left and then to her right, “well…they aren’t very nice to our kind.”