Steven was at the wheel beside me. It was a hot, sunlit day; his window was down, and my short blue hair danced in the wind—under the gold light it looked like a piece of sky exiled to earth.
Soft music drifted from the speakers. Steven wore a wide, easy smile.
Bored, I muttered, 'We're getting way too far from camp. Are you ever going to tell me what's so important?'
He ignored me and kept driving until he finally pulled off the road into open ground and killed the engine.
Ahead, a green field stretched out, a small cabin tucked at the far edge.
I turned towards him. His face was pale, almost washed out, and his straight blond hair framed that beautiful face.
His voice was warm, gentle. 'The day I saw you for the first time, I thought… wow.'
He turned fully to me. I went still.
'Those big, black eyes,' he said, 'with lashes so dark and long it felt like God took His time with every single one.'
My heart sank. The feeling was strange—nerves and embarrassment tangled with excitement and a keen curiosity to hear more.
He smiled, eyes steady on mine. 'You were the most remarkable girl in the camp. You didn't cry like the others. When they punished you or tried to break you, you were stubborn. And you always came first in the trials.'
I arched a brow, mocking. 'But I only beat you in that match because you let me. You threw it.'
He flashed a line of perfect white teeth. 'Mm-hm. True.'
Still smiling, still locked on my eyes, he added, 'Because it wouldn't have been fair to pit a big bear like me against a delicate little girl.'
I laughed under my breath and looked away, even as my heart raced and my hands went cold.
I couldn't make sense of what he was saying. Maybe I didn't want to.
His voice dropped, low and serious, and I turned back to him.
His eyes were a bright, icy blue—so light it felt like staring straight into the sky.
His lips parted. 'I fell in love with you the day I met you, Viuna.'
My heart shattered into a thousand sharp pieces. I stared, dry-eyed, a brittle smile tugging at my mouth.
'You dragged me all the way out here for a stupid joke?' I whispered.
'I'm not joking.' The gravity in his voice froze me. He leaned in, a little pained, set his hand on my thigh, and said, 'The day they burned your hand with coal… that night I was the one who put ointment on it. I spent my break making a doll so you'd have a little one to hold. I was watching you the whole time.
'Any mission you were on, I got myself assigned.'
My heart kept crumpling in on itself, tighter by the second. I was scared he could hear it pounding. I wanted to tell my own heart—shut up, be quiet.
That was the moment I understood… I'd fallen into the worst kind of trouble—
the kind called being loved.