There’s a tentative knock on my door. My heart, already pummeling in my chest, ups the ante as I check my outfit in the mirror one more time. If I had friends in this town, they would probably say, “You’re going on a date, with Eddie Munson?” If my best friend were here, she would probably roll her eyes and say, “Well, you’re off to a super start. It’s just like you to pick the local drug dealer to hang out with.” If my parents knew, well, they probably wouldn’t approve. Thankfully, they’re blissfully unaware. When they ask about new friends I’m making, all the cute boys I’m meeting, I just shrug my shoulders and keep my answers ambiguous.

“Um, hi,” he says nervously, looking from me to the ground. He scuffs his foot into the cement, almost like a shy child would do upon meeting someone for the first time. I smile and a little laugh escapes me, but I honestly can’t help it. I can see the discomfort seeping through his pores.

He’s wearing a button-up black shirt and tan slacks. The clothes look slightly ill-fitting, as if they are hand-me-downs. I am relieved to see he’s still wearing his white Reeboks, slightly dirty but still looking a little less dusty than normal. He didn’t do up all the buttons on his shirt, and I can see his signature band tee peeking out from underneath it. I can also tell he there wasn’t someone else at home to tell him to tuck in the button up shirt or to button it all the way up. He’s got an old black backpack on too. I take a second to wonder why, and then decide I’ll let him tell me. The slacks are also slightly wrinkled, but I only notice that because I’m having a hard time meeting his eyes. I can feel them on me, sizing me up.

“Well, uh, ready?” he asks, holding out his hand. I finally look at his face, and he has a small smirk on the corner of his lips as he waits for me. There it is, I think to myself. There’s Eddie. He looks completely different from how he normally does, and I can feel a blush creeping up as I realize he tried to dress up, for me. I take his hand and follow him.

There is a bike waiting for us at the foot of the driveway. He leans down to pick it up and says, “Sorry,” still looking slightly embarrassed.

“That’s okay,” I say, trying to reassure him. After all, this is the local bad boy, the drug dealer. I can’t reasonably expect him to have a nice car or anything.

“If you’re not comfortable, we can just walk,” he says, glancing at the pegs on the rear of the bike. He swings his leg over the seat and looks at me, waiting to see what I’ll do.

I laugh and say, “Looks like fun, let’s go,” and move toward his bike. He keeps the bike upright as I hop onto the pegs and hang on to his shoulders. He starts pedaling, slow at first, then gets his stride and we’re moving faster. The summer air, hot during the day, feels cool as we ride down the streets. It’s dark, and I can hear the crickets chirping through the whoosh of the wind. The streets are quiet, and I see people sitting in their living rooms, watching TV, through their front window.

We ride in silence for a while, and I let my thoughts wander as we leave the suburban areas and get closer to the wooded part of town. I start thinking about Eddie, and how I ended up on the back of his bike, holding on to his shoulders.

I first noticed him at his lunch table, sitting with the other kids befitting the term “nerds.” Apparently, he’s the leader of a Dungeons and Dragons group. He sits with them every day, and I can hear them talking about everything DnD, which I can’t follow for the life of me. The only reason it sounds interesting is because he’s talking about it. He seems to have a nervous energy, like he needs to be moving all the time. He gets so worked up about whatever they’re talking about. The other kids pay the most attention to him and follow every word he says.

I guessed that he was older than them. I found out that I was correct when he took off his leather jacket and I saw tattoos on his arms. I also heard him talking about finally graduating the other day at the table when he was talking to some other guys about taking over leadership of the group.

Even though I didn’t talk to anyone yet, I somehow still picked up that some people bought drugs from him. They were discreet, however, and took any means necessary to never be spotted talking to him for very long. After all, to them, he was still the freak, the geek, the loser. When I looked over at him during lunch though, I couldn’t help but wonder if they were wrong. He had this giant smile on his face when he got excited, and his voice got louder when he was talking about something he liked. He held reverence over the other guys at the table, but whenever tension might appear, he was always able to break it with a smile and a laugh.

My thoughts are interrupted when he says, “We’re here.”

We’re by the hills on the outside of town, surrounded by trees. He shrugs and says, “Sorry, it’s a bit of a walk.”

“No worries, I wore my good shoes,” I said, lifting one leg up so he could see my shoes.

He smiles and said, “Yep, those are the good ones.” I made sure to wear them because he had complimented them the other day. They’re my favorite beat-up red Converse All-Stars. They have seen better days, though. He had told me how he liked that I had drawn doodles of flames on them. What kind of guy compliments shoes like that? I had asked myself. They were beat to hell, heels peeling slightly from the bottoms, the laces had been replaced multiple times, and they had numerous doodles on them, in Sharpie, during the various times I was bored in class. When I asked him why he liked them, he had shrugged and said, “They probably have a lot of stories to tell, ya know.”

We get off the bike and he grabs the handlebars as we walk towards the top of the hill. I notice he’s wearing his large silver rings on almost every finger, like he usually does. Wearing these must be so natural to him that he didn’t even think about it when he tried to dress up for our date. I’m also guessing he doesn’t own a pair of shoes other than sneakers. My stomach flutters a little when I’m reminded that he tried to dress up, for me, even though he didn’t know I liked him just fine in his usual band tees and jeans with holes in them.

“So, where are we going?” I finally ask, curiosity finally getting the best of me.

“The best seat in the house, baby,” he says with a laugh.

“The best seat for what?”

“You’ll see,” he says, winking at me. We climb up the hill, him leading the way while pushing his bike. When we finally get to the very top, he dumps his bike on the ground and swings his backpack off his shoulders and drops it to the ground. I walk a little way away from him to see what I’m guessing he brought me up here to see.

It’s the night sky, on brilliant display, like I’ve never seen before. We’re facing away from the twinkling lights of town, so there are no lights to detract from the stars. “Holy shit,” I say, exasperated.

“Right?” he says, glancing at me as he pulls something out of his backpack. I find a grassy spot to sit as he comes up beside me, carrying two beers. He offers me a beer, and I take it, relieved to feel that it is still cool.

He’s sitting right next to me, our hips touching, and he holds his beer up for me to cheers. I do, and he winks at me again. He sips the beer and then places it on the grass next to him. He reaches over and grabs my hand and says, “Best seat in the house, right?”

I look at him and see a sly smile on his face. I’m beginning to realize how attracted I am to his smile. “Yeah, it’s incredible,” I say, feeling the warmth of his hand holding mine.

He takes another sip of beer and I do too. “So, is this where you bring all your dates?” I ask him teasingly.

He shakes his head, ruffling his shaggy brown hair and says, “No way, baby. This is our spot.”

A little buzzing sensation starts up in my gut. I love his ease with words, and how they seem to slide out of him, as smooth as butter. He appears less nervous than he did at my house.

“I like your outfit,” I tell him, a teasing smile on my face. He turns slightly red.

“Yeah, um, I didn’t really have anything nice to wear. My uncle got me these and I never actually wore them until now.”

“No shit,” I say, laughing, “It’s not really you.”

He’s looking right at my face as he laughs too. “I guess I wanted to impress you.”

“You already impress me,” I tell him, looking away and blushing a little.

I can feel him moving around, and I watch him stand up and dramatically unbutton his shirt, swinging it over his head before tossing it on the ground by the bike. I’m laughing as he claps his hands together, as if the shirt had dirtied them, and he adjusts his black tee. “Thank god,” he says, sitting back down next to me. “I kind of hate that thing.”

I look at him and laugh. “I sincerely appreciate the effort though.”

“All the validation I need, baby,” he says, smiling at me and taking another swig of beer. He grabs my hand again, and I can feel the cool bite of his metal rings on my skin.

I find myself just looking at him for a moment: his bushy brown hair, his huge brown eyes, and his lips, still doing that characteristic smirk I love so much. He reaches up and brushes my hair behind my ears, and my breath catches in my throat. His hand lingers for a second next to my cheek, brushing it ever so softly. He’s looking right at me, and suddenly, I find it hard to breathe.

I look away from the intensity of his gaze after a moment. His eyes are boring into me, warm with a devilish glint to them. He still has a sly smirk on the corner of his mouth. I’m trying to hide from him how much I’m blushing, but I feel his hand reach around and gently tilt my face back to meet his eyes. His touch is so soft, and his hands are so warm, and I feel my heart beating faster in my chest.

He takes one finger and traces it along my jaw with the lightest touch. My breath catches as his finger goes to my lips, lingering there for just a second, before his hand goes around the side of my neck. He’s leaning towards me, and I find myself frozen, just watching him come closer. He leans over me and kisses me, his hand resting on the back of my neck. I close my eyes and relish the warmth I feel between the two of us. His hair tickles my cheek as he presses in, kissing me softly.

I reach up and put my hand on his neck, underneath his copious amount of hair. I gently wrap my fingers around some of the long curls. He lets out a small moan and presses in closer, opening his mouth slightly as he continues to kiss me. I reciprocate his kiss, opening my mouth a little bit too. I can taste the beer on his breath. I feel his thumb tracing my jawline and his other hand move to my back, holding me up as he gets closer and closer to me. He smells slightly smokey, but I pick up a clean, warm scent to him too, like laundry detergent. He’s almost on top of me now, his hands pressing more and more tightly to my skin.

I begin to kiss him with a little more enthusiasm, and I feel him pull away ever so slightly. I open my eyes and he’s right in front of me, smiling. His eyes are fixed on me, but I’m not intimated in the slightest. I feel like I’m getting lost inside his eyes. “Let’s not get too carried away, babe,” he says, sitting back down beside me.

I get my breath back as he takes another sip of beer. “Don’t want you to miss the show,” he says, gesturing to the night sky. I move my eyes from him to the stars, finding myself dazzled at how many I can see. There is a slight wind, cool on my bare arms, and the grass tickles the palms of my hands. I can hear crickets singing their summer song on the air, louder than ever now that we’re away from town. The can of beer is cold against my skin. I take another sip, looking back at him, wanting to just stare at his goofy smile all day.

He’s looking at me too, taking a swig of beer, a slight laugh on his lips. He brushes his long hair away from his face as the wind catches it.

“You’re not at all what I thought you would be,” I find myself blurting out. He looks at me, raising an eyebrow.

“And what did you think I was like?” he asks devilishly. “A devil worshipper?” he says as he sticks out his tongue a little and opens his eyes wide. I can’t help it, I laugh.

“No, I don’t believe in any of that stuff,” I say between giggles.

He shrugs and says, “I don’t know babe, I could be the big scary demon lurking under little kids’ beds,” and does a dramatized crawl on the grass, creeping up on me and baring his teeth.

Containing my laughter is difficult. “You and I both know that’s totally ridiculous,” I sputter.

He sits next to me again, closer this time, and rests his elbow on my knee. “You’d be surprised,” he says with another shrug, “Some people really believe in that shit.”

I shake my head. “No way, you’re not like that at all.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks teasingly. “What do you think I’m like?”

I pause for a second. “You’re not like I thought you were when I first saw you,” I start, “I feel like I was proven wrong after watching you at lunch for a while.”

He raises his brow at me again and nods, prompting me to continue. “I mean, people have their thoughts about you based on what they know, but they don’t know you personally at all. How could they know what you’re really like?” I ask him.

He nods and purses his lips, trying to appear thoughtful. “So why are you trying to know me personally?”

I look away from him and say, “I’m not sure. I guess I just feel it. It’s hard to explain.”

He does it again: gently guides my face to look at him again with his hand. “I’m sure you’ve been overanalyzing it for the last few days.” He laughs again.

I nod. “Yeah, actually.”

He moves his face closer to mine. “Me too. I didn’t want to scare you away.”

“Nope, you don’t scare me,” I respond with a smile.

“I…don’t…scare you?” he asks, grinning at me.

My heart races as he looks at me like that. “Not even a little.”

He has that devilish, teasing look on his face. “You’re not afraid of…big, scary Eddie Munson?”

Then, he pounces on me, pinning me down to the grass and pretending to gobble me up. Gasping with laughter, I pretend to fight him off, even though I’m relishing how he feels on top of me. His hair is brushing my cheeks and his breath feels warm on my collarbone. My hands are on his waist, and I can feel part of his skin below his shirt. I hook my thumbs into the belt loops of his pants and meet his eyes. He’s looking at me again, his big goofy smile ever present.

“Okay, I’m a little bit scared,” I say teasingly.

“That’s right,” he says, hovering only inches from my face, “everyone is terrified of Scary Eddie.”

I move my hands to his sides and rest them on his ribs. “Happy now?” I say with a jest.

He shakes his head, brushing his curls across my face. “Very.” He says it with almost a purr in his voice. Before I can stop myself, my hands move to his neck and pull him down to me. I kiss him, more fiercely than he kissed me the first time, and I feel one of his hands cup my head. His fingers weave through my hair and he grips it, gently at first, and then with some more strength. I open my mouth and feel him meeting my enthusiasm. His tongue slightly traces the inside of my lower lip.

Hungrily, my tongue starts exploring his mouth. His kiss is electric, like bolts of lighting are shooting through my whole body. He laughs and pulls away, righting my beer can that had been knocked over in the heat of the moment.

I fall back on the grass, twirling his long hair in my fingers. He gently kisses the inside of my wrist, then moving to my palms. His lips are just barely grazing my skin, but it feels like I’m on fire. Then he rests his cheek against my hand and closes his eyes. He says nothing, just letting me softly stroke his hair. I reach over and run my thumb over his eyelid, down his cheek, over his jaw. I feel a small amount of stubble on his face, barely visible unless you’re as close to him as I am.

He opens his eyes and meets my gaze. A smile slowly creeps across his lips. “I was a little bit scared of you too,” he says sheepishly.

I am stunned. “Me? What’s so scary about me?”

He laughs at my expression. My shock must show on my face.

Still laughing slightly, he says, “Intimidated is the better word. You seem like a girl who knows what she wants and will do anything to get it.”

My cheeks burn after he says this. “How do you mean?”

He sits back down beside me and says, “Well, you’re not trying to conform just to make friends, or make people like you. You’re still doing your own thing, and it’s badass.”

My face is probably as red as a tomato. “Well, I wanted you to like me.” I’m not normally this brazen, what is it about this guy that is driving me so crazy?

He smiles at me. “Yeah? You want Eddie the Banished, king of the nerds, high school reject Eddie Munson, to like you?” He says each of his self-given titles with emphasis. He does appear to have a flair for the dramatic.

I nod. “Yeah, I do.”

“Well, mission accomplished, babe,” he says dramatically, ruffling his shaggy hair.

I lean over and take another long swig of my beer, now warm, just to distract myself while I steady the beating of my crazed heart. I’m feeling the tension between us, like electricity between our two bodies, and I feel bolder than I normally do. I mean, he did say he likes me. I must be doing something right.

“Well, I do know what I want, and I’ll fight someone to get it.”

He stops, mid-swig of beer, and laughs, turning to look at me. “Yeah? Even monsters and warlords and demons?”

I dramatically raise my arms up and shout, “Bring it on!”

He takes another sip of beer and asks, “Alright, mighty sorceress, what is it that you will slay even the strongest warriors and beasts to withhold?”

I just look at him and laugh for a second, then raise my eyebrows, gazing right into his eyes.

His eyes widen and he gestures to himself, and with dramatic flair, he proclaims, “Me? The unremarkable Eddie the Banished? Why, the lady must be under some spell!”

I shake my head, laughing. “I don’t think so.”

He’s laughing too and shaking his head. Feeling emboldened (maybe I AM under a spell?) I swing my leg over so I’m straddling him. He lays down on the grass, smiling at me. I grab his wrists and pin them down next to him and kiss him again, softly, to tease him. After a minute of this, he can’t resist: he moves his hands up the side of my face, breaking out of the bind I have him in, and clasps on to my hair. My hands move to the sides of his face, entwining my fingers into his curls.

His kiss becomes more aggressive, and his breath is warm in my open mouth. I give him a soft bite on his lower lip, and he makes a soft growling noise, no louder than a whisper, and moves his lips to behind my ear, kissing it softly. His breath on my skin sends shockwaves through my whole body, and I feel myself shiver as his breath tickles the hair behind my ear.

I take a long, deep breath, trying to slow down my pounding heart again. I hear him chuckle, his lips still grazing the spot behind my ear. My hands move down to his waist again, and I lightly grab the edges of his shirt, feeling his skin under my fingers. He wraps his fingers around the back of my head and pulls me down to him again, kissing me fiercely.

My hands are underneath his shirt, feeling his warm skin against my fingertips. He moans slightly and moves his hands to my waist, gently guiding my body back to the ground. He’s lying next to me, leaning over me, and his curtain of thick hair blocks out everything else; I can only see his face above mine. He stops kissing me to look at me, tracing his fingers all over my face, around my ear, and in my hair. He takes a lock of hair and twirls it in his fingers, turning to study it as he does so.

“I wish everyone sees the you that I see, right now,” I say, musing quietly.

He meets my gaze again, smiles, and says, “No way. They can never know what I’m like. Got to keep up appearances, you know.”

I shake my head. I’m finding it increasingly difficult to think clearly when he’s looking at me like that. “Big scary Eddie, devil worshipper, drug dealer?”

Shit, I think myself. That slipped out, damnit. He frowns at me slightly, then looks away and shrugs. “You do what you got to do, you know,” he says.

I can feel my face burning red. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” Trying to come back from that is going to be difficult. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He turns to look at me again. “You don’t have to apologize.”

I rest my hand on his cheek. “Yes, I do, that was a stupid thing to say. I didn’t mean…”

He moves his hand to rest his hand on my cheek too. “Really, it’s cool.”

I close my eyes and sigh. I’m embarrassed as hell, and I feel like I’ve ruined everything.

“Hey,” he says softly, as I open my eyes to look at him again, “It’s cool.”

I sigh again, hoping my face is losing some of its red color. He leans away for a second, looking off into the distance. I sit up, leaning up on my elbows, and watch him.

He’s quiet for a second. “Does that bother you?” he finally asks.

I frown and wait for him to look at me. He does, and he’s not smiling, but his face is still soft. His gaze is gentle.

After a moment, I reply, “No, it doesn’t.”

He nods, looking thoughtful. I grab a fistful of his shirt in my hand. He looks down at my hand and touches my arm softly.

“You’re so much more than everyone thinks you are. You’re sweet as hell, you’re kind, you’re…” but his laugh stops me.

“What?” I exclaim, “It’s true.”

He keeps laughing as he says, “I think the lady is growing soft for dear Eddie.”

I laugh too. “Hey, I’m not the one with a reputation to uphold.”

He pretends to look thoughtful, still grinning. “’Tis true. No one can ever find out that I’m nothing more than Eddie the bard, nothing more than a weakling.”

I shake my head, running my hands up and down his arms. “No way,” I whisper.

He laughs once, noticing me ogling at his muscular arms, and says, “It’s just the guitar playing, that’s all.”

“Must be a good workout,” I reply.

He tilts his chin down, a devious look in his eyes, and says, “Not the best kind of workout though.”

Feigning shock, I playfully slap him on the chest. “Don’t be a perv,” I say in between laughter.

He pretends to look shocked, even though he’s smiling, and says, “I would never disrespect the lady like that.”

I just roll my eyes and laugh, emptying my beer with one more swig.

“Do you want another?” he asks, gesturing to his backpack.

“How many did you bring?”

“Four,” he says, “Couldn’t fit any more in there.”

He stands up to get it, and I take a second to look at the sky in front of us. The hills look like they roll on for miles, and there are barely any lights to be seen, just the stars.

He comes back and sits next to me, offering me the beer. It’s warm, but I find myself not really caring. It’s intoxicating, sitting here with him, listening to the crickets and feeling a cool breeze on my skin. I shiver slightly, and I notice goosebumps prickling up my arms.

Before I say anything, he gets back up and retrieves his button-up shirt that he had dramatically twirled away and places it over my shoulders. I wrap it around me, relishing how it smells just like him. Even though I don’t feel very cold, I love having the shirt over my shoulders and being embraced by his warm scent. He reaches over and touches my back, rubbing it gently. I turn and look at him, and he smiles when our eyes meet.

We sit quietly for a while, our bodies touching, sipping our beers, and looking at the sky.

When he breaks the silence, he says, “Sorry if this isn’t very exciting. I don’t go on a lot of dates so I don’t have anything to go off of.”

“It’s perfect,” I respond, smiling at him.

After a minute, I ask him, “So, Eddie Munson doesn’t go on a lot of dates?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Nah, not really. I’m not really a big deal in this town.”

“I can’t imagine why,” I say.

Raising his eyebrow, he looks at me and says, “I am a leader of a D’n’D group. It’s not exactly a ticket to Popularity City, if you know what I mean.”

I shake my head. “Popularity City is boring. Everyone always does the same exact thing, over and over again, every single day. It seems so vapid and narcissistic to me.”

He’s looking at me, still smiling. “Sweetheart, you’d better be careful, or I’m going to start falling in love with you.”

I feel my heart shoot to my throat. Trying to play it off, I say, “Would that be so bad?”

“I’m not sure you’d want to be Eddie the Banished’s girlfriend. That comes with its own set of problems.”

I grab his hand and ask, “Yeah, like what?”

“Just in case you’re not already aware, I’ve got…issues,” he says. Propping myself on my arm, I lean against him and run my finger along his jawbone. He swallows, like he’s nervous, and looks away from me. After a minute of silence, I say, “You want to know what I think?”

He raises his head and looks at me. “Sure.”

I smile, meeting his eyes. “I think you need to get over yourself, Eddie Munson.”

He laughs, and I close the distance between us. He twists his body so one arm is around me and the other hand is behind my head again. I grab his shirt and pull him into me, even though I’m not sure we could be any closer together. He is kissing me with more fervor now. He pauses every few seconds to run small kisses along my jaw, behind my ear, my cheeks, and my forehead. His hair tickles my skin and a giggle escapes me. That makes him laugh, so he keeps doing it, increasing his pace so he’s kissing me all over my face with more fervor. Pretty soon, he’s tackling me again, leaning on top of me and assaulting my face and neck with kisses. I bust out laughing, and he’s laughing too, as I pretend to fight him off.

After a while, we’re both breathless from laughter. He just looks at me for a second, then he wraps his hand around my neck and gently kisses my forehead. It’s the most adorable thing, and I’ve got a smile so big on my face, I feel like I’m going to burst. He laughs and shifts off me so I can sit up. I finish what is left of my beer and then put my hand on top of his, wrapping my hands into his palm. His hand is so warm, and his palm feels slightly leathery, like he works with his hands a lot. He wraps his fingers into mine too, and for a while, I lean against him, my head on his shoulder, and we just watch the stars.

As the stars burn brightly overhead, my imagination starts running wild with images of what it is going to be like from here. Somehow, thoughts about what other people will think can’t break through. I see myself walking down the hallway at school next to Eddie, his arm wrapped around my waist. My stomach rages with crazed butterflies as I picture his face, looking at me and smiling in that way that I love so much. It’s so carefree and easy, like nothing in the world could ever bother him.

I picture him at the lunch table, gesturing wildly with his arms when he’s talking about something. I envision him laughing, slamming his hands against the table to get everyone’s attention. To me, I don’t understand why other people aren’t captivated by him. He has such a whimsical air about him, like he truly doesn’t care what others think. Being around him is so light and so easy, it’s as natural as breathing. It’s like he radiates light and warmth, and I felt myself drawn to it almost instantly. I just wanted to be in his presence, listening to him and watching him say almost everything with flair and emphasis. 

And now, it’s just the two of us, sitting on top of the hill, side-by-side. To the rest of the world, he is someone to be afraid of, to avoid. To me, he’s like magic.

He lifts our clenched hands up and kisses the back of my hand, smiling at me again. I reciprocate the smile, feeling like the whole world could be crumbling beneath us, and I wouldn’t even notice. I find myself just looking at him, into his eyes, and there is so much kindness and warmth in them.

“So, what’s next?” I ask, breaking the silence.

He shrugs and says, “Who knows? It shall be an adventure.”

“I’ll go anywhere with you,” I say breathlessly, instantly regretting it. Too soon?

A roguish smile splays across his face, and then he stands up and offers me his hand. I grab it, and he yanks me to my feet with astonishing ease, helping me balance by placing his other hand on my lower back. He presses me to him again, leaning in close next to my ear.

“Better be careful about what you say, sweetheart,” he says quietly.

I leaned in next to his ear and whispered, “Bring it on, Eddie the Banished.”

Then, he’s kissing me again. One hand is still wrapped around my waist, the other behind my head. With enthusiasm, I throw my arms over his shoulders, bringing his head closer to me. I feel a swarm of butterflies rush through my guts and wonder how we could still be earthbound; we feel weightless together. Minutes or hours or days could pass, and I wouldn’t be able to tell you how long we stood there, wrapped in each other under the breathtaking night sky.

He pulls away, laughing quietly, pressing kisses to my forehead. I wrap my arms around him, pressing my face to his chest, and soaking in his essence. To me, it’s like whiskey: warm and slightly smokey. He rests his head on top of mine and rubs my back with his hands, and I decide that I would like to stay here forever. To my dismay, he pulls away slightly and takes my hands.

“Come with me?” he says, a wicked smile on his face. I can only nod as he leads me back to his bike, still holding both of my hands, and then letting go only to pick up his backpack. My head is buzzing with so many thoughts as I watch him: what the hell is happening to me? I’ve never felt like this before, with anybody. How does he do it?

We start to walk back down the hill, him leading his bike, when suddenly he swings a leg over the seat and careens down the hill. I bust out laughing as he woops with glee, blasting down the hill at full speed. When he’s at the bottom, he skids to a stop and turns the bike around, waiting for me. To mess with him, I pretend to move very slowly down the hill, taking several seconds to take one step. He tosses his bike back down to the ground, grinning at me, and waits a few seconds. Finally, he dashes up the hill to me with surprising speed and tackles me to the ground, tickling me and kissing my face wildly.

The air is completely gone from my lungs: I am laughing so hard that I cannot breathe. After a moment, he lets me up, his face red with exertion and his hair windswept. When I catch my breath, I run down the rest of the hill and stop by his bike. Looking up at him, he’s standing with his hands on his knees and still gasping for breath. Our eyes meet and he laughs, shaking his head.

“I’m really in for it, aren’t I?” he says.

I nod. “I wouldn’t dream of making this easy for you, Eddie Munson.”

Once he makes it down to me, he presses his lips to my forehead again and says, “Let’s go sweetheart, the adventure doesn’t end here.”

As we walk together, him pushing his bike by the handlebars and our arms around each other, the only thought in my head is: our adventure is only beginning.