Life's full of surprises, the little things you don't expect. And
the big things. Like waking up in the morning, all warm and snug
under the duvet, bright sunlight filtering in through the green leaves
of the plants reaching for the sky from the windowsill, not opening
your eyes just to enjoy those few minutes of oblivion before the world
crashes in. And realising that there's a cold patch on your
shoulder where someone's breathing on you, turning over slowly and
opening those reluctant lids to see the short dark hair, long
eye-lashes and relaxed features of your assistant and best friend,
asleep next to you.
Definitely unexpected. How the hell did this happen?
#
Dangerous creatures, dinosaurs. Pesky too. Despite their
size, some of them, they can reach into places you wouldn't
believe. Like through a basement window, snout first, breaking
the glass and showering Stephen in it before opening its jaws, letting
out a God almighty roar and fastening its teeth into my forearm.
I lost my footing on the stepladder, scrabbling to find it again while
I dangled from my bleeding arm from the dinosaur's mouth.
I scream like a girl. I don't remember screaming before; yelling,
yes, shouting, crying out, but not an actual, God's honest
scream. Don't remember ever feeling anything like that pain
before either. The vice grip with knife blades and needles seemed
to be forever, the agony so intense I felt like I was drowning in
it. I barely heard the shot from the tranquiliser dart gun that
Stephen fired at point blank range straight into the eye of the as yet
unclassified dinosaur's eye. I just know when the pressure
started to ease, and then Stephen was with me on the ladder, prising
apart the jaw, sliding the giant teeth out of my arm while I tried my
level best not to bawl like a baby or, God forbid, to scream
again. I'd already shot my reputation to pieces, I didn't want to
make things worse.
But it hurt like hell.
The moment before the moment I could, I yanked my arm from the row of
razors, slicing through skin, watching - mesmerised - just for a second
as blood flowed from the wounds - ten puncture marks along the top, ten
along the bottom, wide and deep in the centre, getting smaller and
narrower out towards my hand and elbow. I began to lose my
balance. Leaning heavily into Stephen's awkward arm around my
waist, I was dizzy, light-headed and lucky for me he was thinking
straight. He got me down, or helped me down enough so that I
didn't break any major bones as I slid to the floor, landing with a
jarring bump on my arse. Like a true hero he stripped off his
jacket and his shirt, tearing the cotton into pieces, shrugging the
leather back on and zipping it up. I imagine the last thing you
want to be when running from a pre-historic predator is
half-naked. Or maybe the second to last thing. Or
third-to-last. Dead isn't good either. But then, you
wouldn't be running.
Delirium was setting in faster than I would have thought.
I tried not to make a fuss while he dressed my arm, just like he tried
not to show his abject panic when parts of the makeshift bandage turned
blood red within a minute. We knew we needed to get out of there
and I think I might have commented that this time I probably did need
to get to a hospital. I think he agreed with me so bravely he
moved to the heavy metal door we'd slammed and locked behind us to keep
out the twin of what had taken a bite out of me.
"Be careful." Pointless but it seemed I had to say it. My
arm was already numb and I admit it, through the slowly rising hysteria
I was starting to get scared. Scared for me. Scared for
him; he was my only protection. How pathetic does that
sound? I'm an expert in denial. My heart was racing as he
slid back the rusted bolt and cautiously opened the door. I
watched him breathe out slowly and took that to be a sign that the
immediate coast was clear; plus he wasn't trying to shoot anything.
He turned back to me - "Come on."
'Come on'? It took a second to get the signal to my legs to get
up off the floor and the moment I was on my feet my stomach rebelled
against the movement. I retched - I hate that feeling - but
nothing came up for which I was eternally glad. Stephen was back
with me, a hand on my shoulder, telling me we had no choice but to get
out of there. I knew that, I just wasn't sure I could actually do
it.
So gun in one hand he hoisted his other arm around my waist and I leant
on him for balance while the world tilted as he coaxed me away from the
wall. As long as I could quickly learn to walk the constantly
moving cakewalk of a floor I thought I might be okay. We stopped
just outside the door - reluctant to leave the point of no
return. And we listened for any sign that our Jurassic stalkers
were somewhere close by. But there was nothing, nothing but that
eerie silence that follows something so loud as a dinosaur attack.
The stairs were at the end of the corridor. We knew that because
we'd been chased down them less than five minutes ago. I knew
something was wrong with me, something more than blood loss and
shock. I was starting to feel like someone had cranked the heat
up, as if I was being dragged through a desert and not a corridor in
the basement of some derelict factory. It was a fight to keep my
legs from giving way, to keep my knees supporting me, to keep my
breakfast inside me. How long did it feel since Stephen and I
shared those Lattes at the café by the river this morning….?
"Nick!" I was dropping to the floor, sliding from Stephen's grasp
on my hip, and surprised I straightened myself, realised I should be
concentrating on staying alive, on getting out of there. I was
going to get out of there - we both were. And it wouldn't be
thanks to me - because in my state I was starting to worry I might get
us both killed.
As we reached the base of the wooden stairs there was an almighty crash
behind us, like a massively strong dinosaur knocking over a cabinet
full of rusted tools and tins and God knows what else. It sounded
close and we weren't about to investigate. Half-carrying me,
Stephen got us up the first step, then the next and the next, every
slight rise making my brain pound against my skull, turning my stomach
over so that by the time we reached the top I had to stop. I
pulled hard away from him, getting a couple of feet before my legs went
out from under me and I collapsed on all fours, the pain in my arm
spiking as I put weight on it, violently throwing up breakfast and
anything else that was inside me, including - it felt like - a couple
of major organs. The stink made me retch, nothing but acidic bile
following the little food and coffee I'd managed to consume before that
day's madness had begun.
Nick's hand settled on my back, and I turned to glance at him. He
looked terrified - I've never seen him look like that before and it
made me wonder what I looked like. Then I swallowed. And
tasted it. That copper tang of blood was in my mouth and when I
dared to look at the mess I'd made it was more than tinged with
it. I backed up, sat on my folded legs, cradling my arm, in more
pain than I'd ever been in before.
From the base of the stairs came that sound - somewhere between roar
and a scream - like death on our heels, and this time it was in
stereo. They were too close. "Get out of here." My
throat felt like I'd swallowed a jar of sulphur.
"Absolutely not." Stephen wrapped two solid arms around my waist
and yanked me to my feet, movement which brought tears to my
eyes. I retched again, struggling to lean forward, to miss his
sleeves, but there was nothing left to come up. "Come on.
Move!"
He dragged me off along the dark corridor and I could only hope he knew
where he was going because my vision was blurring, the little light
there was hurting my eyes. Half-blind I tried to walk on my own
but at the pace he was going I must have made one step to his
three. I could feel the sweat under my clothes, on my forehead,
felt so hot inside but somehow cold - getting colder - on the
outside. Like the sweat was turning to ice on my skin.
"Almost there, Nick, don't give up on me."
I didn't feel like I had much of a choice any more. If he let go
I knew I'd drop and then I would die, seconds later, mauled by the
monsters that were chasing us. I didn't want to die, especially
not like that. I forced myself to do more, to meet him one for
every other step, to take some of my own weight on my trembling
legs. I swallowed the bile that rose in my throat, blinked sweat
and tears from my eyes so that I could see where we were going.
And I saw sunlight. Blessed sunlight, streaming in from the end
of the corridor, barely touching the dim darkness but still I was
almost certain it was real. Stephen seemed sure too, because he
sped us up, craning his head once to look back. I was sure the
ringing in my ears wasn't some unspecified alarm bell, which was what
it sounded like, but it stopped me from hearing anything and I couldn't
turn my head because if I did I was seriously worried it might fall
off. Or explode. Neither option was good.
Not wanting to sound clichéd, we headed for the light, and it
turned out to be as blessed. An exit. A fire door, and not
one of those trick fire doors with the chain preventing it from
opening, but one of those beautiful, real fire doors, with the push bar
that sends it springing open and lets the panicked escapees exit the
building. Of course it sets off the fire alarm too, but that was
a small price to pay, and over the noise already in my head, it hardly
mattered.
My feet hit concrete, then grass, and after two soft steps forward,
Stephen suddenly and without warning dropped me. I stopped and
fell like an idiot in a movie chase scene; face first, no time, no
strength in any case to put my arms out to break the fall. My
head hit soft, damp ground moments after my knees, and my hips
followed. My numb arm folded under me, trapped between my heaving
stomach and the grass. And that's where I stayed, unable to move,
while my body felt like it was disintegrating.
I heard the smash of a force in motion against unyielding metal, heard
the strengthened glass in the doors break, fly outwards to land in an
arc around the exit. I felt the vibrations through the ground as
something heavy too two thudding, quick steps to reach me, felt hot
breath on the back of my head, my neck, on the small of my back where
my jacket and T had ridden up as I'd fallen. I knew I was going
to die. I knew the next thing I'd feel was those razor sharp
teeth sinking into my thigh and the last things out of my mouth would
be a girly scream and a stream of bloody bile. Tears swam in my
eyes but I couldn't do anything about that either.
I didn't hear the shots, the rifle, despite it being so close by.
But instead of teeth I felt something heavy and hard hit my back,
knocking the breath from me, leaving me gasping, choking, fighting to
get oxygen into my lungs. But not dead. Not at that moment
at least, although I had a distant inkling that if I gave up struggling
I might be.
Whatever it was that had landed on me was lifted off and a gentle hand
touched my face. I forced my eyes open, saw a blurred shape that
might have been Stephen's knees, and closed them again. It seemed
strange to me, but he started to gently comb his fingers through my
hair. I wondered what he might be saying, if the words I couldn't
hear were important enough to get him to repeat them if I ever got the
chance. But it seemed like an okay way to go, with Stephen
stroking my hair, and the gentle vibrations of the world underneath
me. I managed a deep breath, let it out, and the pain was slowly
pushed aside by the sticky darkness around the edges of my mind.
At the very last moment the calm was blasted apart by a single,
determined thought, one that sparked panic in every nerve - there were
two dinosaurs behind us. Stephen! There were two!
#
Stephen
I could honestly say I'd had the worst day of my life. Ironic
when it had started out so well. Nick had picked me up in the
morning, suggested we get breakfast as his favourite café down
by the river, and when I'd pointed out how late that would make us to
the Home Office, he smiled wickedly. Anything he could do to make
Lester's life that little bit more awkward.
It was a glorious morning, good too to be sitting out in the sunshine
with Nick - that old easy friendship back between us, strong roasted
coffee, freshly baked croissants, the light turning his hair to spun
gold….
Such a terrifying difference between that and where we ended up at the end of the afternoon.
It's not something I'll ever forget - kneeling on that grass outside
the old plastics factory, the damp soaking the knees of my jeans, a
dead dinosaur on one side of me, and Nick dying on the other. He
was ashen grey by the time I dropped him to run to the truck - exactly
where we'd left it - grab the rifle from the passenger seat and shoot
the dinosaur in the head before it took a bite out of my best friend.
Kneeling next to him I touched his face and could feel the chill of his
skin despite the sweat on his forehead and cheeks. There was
blood on his lips - he'd coughed it up when he'd been sick at the top
of the stairs - and that's never a good sign. Whatever that
dinosaur's bite had done to him, whatever poison or venom it had
injected into his system, it was quickly killing him. And there
was nothing I could do. My mobile was gone, lost somewhere along
the line. There was no means to call anyone and I just knew he
didn't have the time for me to leave him to fetch help. I didn't
want him to die alone.
I started to stroke his hair. What else could I do? Tears
welled up in my eyes, streamed down my face, and I just kept up a
soothing rhythm, watching his face slowly relax. He was dying,
right there, right in front of me. We all know this is a
dangerous job but none of us expect to have to watch one another
die. And not Nick - definitely not Nick. He's the heart of
us. He's my heart, my soul. How I was supposed to live
without him I had no idea, I couldn't even contemplate it, couldn't
imagine it. Yet somehow I watched him take his last breath and
let it out so slowly, his body deflating, pain leaving him. A
harsh sob broke from my throat, a sound of denial, of disbelief.
My heart breaking.
Then suddenly his eyes snapped open, the panic and fear back in one
paralyzing moment. And his lips moved, no sound being made but I
could read the shape of what he was trying to say - 'Stephen' - my name
in his final words - 'there were two'.
Fuck!
I grabbed up the rifle, turned back to the gaping exit through which
we'd run, the twisted metal of the emergency doors through which the
first dinosaur had smashed its way. Into the yellow reptilian
eyes of its twin. For one insane second it looked at its fallen
comrade - sibling - partner? - and I saw it tilt its head. Was
that sight as terrible to it as the one of Nick lying next to it was
for me? Where had this humanity inside me come from? Not
like I had to ask. For two seconds we were both still, it paused
in its attack, me on the ground with a rifle aimed at its head.
Then the spell broke, it opened its mouth and screamed its grief or
anger or whatever the fuck it was feeling and I shot it, five times,
hitting the back of its throat, bullets tearing through its brain so
that it fell like an expensive remote controlled model with the power
cut.
My heart was beating so fast I though my heart was about to
explode. I couldn't move my arms, couldn't look away from the
dead creature to see the dead human behind me. So I sat, lost,
for as long as it took for them to find us.
It was minutes, apparently, but it could easily have been hours.
I heard the 4x4, heard the ambulance, and still I sat frozen in place,
only the rifle having fallen forward, the butt still clutched in my
aching hands. I heard my name called by Abby, his name called by
Connor and I thought briefly of the terrible grief to come, but all
with some strange sense of detachment. My tears had dried
up. I couldn’t understand how I was still alive.
I felt a hand on my shoulder, heard the activity around Nick's body behind me.
Then like sunshine I heard three little words.
"He's still alive!"
That had me up on to my knees again and turning round so fast I heard a
gasp of surprise from Abby standing next to me. I pushed passed
one of the medics, said Nick's name but got no response. Why
would they lie? Why would they say he was alive when he was
clearly gone? But before it could crush me again I realised that
they were forcing an IV into the back of his left hand - his good hand
- they were putting an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. Why
bother if… so he wasn't…?
Abby was the one to pull me to my feet, to drag me away just far enough
so they could work to save Nick's life. They turned him over onto
the stretcher and I saw the blood soaked shirt strips covering his
right arm. As soon as they had him in the ambulance, as soon as
we were underway, they removed the gruesome bandaging. Abby had
loaded me up with him, with her and Connor following behind in the two
trucks - theirs and ours. I couldn't have driven. I could
barely stand up. I stared at the wounds on Nick's arm - the skin
and flesh cut to gory ribbons by that single bite - and I wondered if
they could ever heal. He'd be so scarred. Would that upset
him? I thought probably not. He wasn't - isn't - a vain
person. He'd probably enjoy showing them off at parties, not that
he ever went to parties. Maybe university soirées - those
events when professors were expected to play nice with businessmen in
order to secure future funding for projects like ours. Okay, not
exactly like ours.
I watched them add a saline drip to the blood already being replaced
through the IV line but I knew he wasn't out of danger yet.
Whatever was in his bloodstream had poisoned him frightening
fast. It was still there, still killing him. We had to find
out what it was and find an anti-venom.
Lucky that Connor and Abby had been thinking straight. Apparently
without a second thought they'd hacked off the dinosaur's head at the
base of its throat and brought it with them.
~
I sat for hours, days, waiting, watching the steady neon line of the
monitors, the slow drip of the blood and saline IV drips, the even rise
and fall of his chest. Nick's always been our strength and lying
in the hospital bed with the wires and the nose cannula he looked
small, vulnerable. But not weak. To have lived through
what'd he'd lived through, he had to be as strong as they came and I
knew he was.
By some major miracle - and believe me when I say he deserved one - the
venom in the dinosaur bite had so closely matched that of a modern day
rattlesnake they were able to use the same anti-venom. At the
time they'd administered it his life had been solely dependent on the
life-support machines they'd hooked him to, but three days later,
although still unconscious, he was breathing on his own. He was
healing. All we had to do was wait for him to wake up. The
first night I'd got some sleep, stretched out on the couch in the
family room attached to the intensive care ward. I was exhausted,
wiped out, couldn't stay awake if I'd tried - and I did try.
Since then I hadn't been able to, had barely moved from the chair in
his room except to take a piss. I hadn't eaten, I wasn't hungry,
and whatever Abby and Connor said to me I felt sick whenever I thought
about trying to.
Every time I closed my eyes I saw him lying on the grass, face peaceful
as he took his last breath. And I opened them quickly to reassure
myself that he was alive, lying under wires and tubes but still… alive.
I had no idea what time it was. It was dark outside, really
dark. I finished my third novel, read the last word and closed
it, dropping the leg I had pulled up under my chin, shoes kicked off to
the floor, and stretching it out, stretching every muscle, popping my
spine back into its original shape. On the bed, Nick pulled in a
deep, deep breath and made a noise that sounded like it scratched the
back of his throat. I was out of the chair in a moment, perched
on the edge of the bed, hand against Nick's face just like I had done
out on the grass when he'd been dying on me. His eyes opened,
blinked a couple of times before they locked with mine.
"Easy. You're in hospital." For a minute or so he just took
a couple more deep breaths, kept looking at me as if I was about to
vanish. I found his hand, held it lightly, gently. "It's
okay." It was okay. He was going to be okay. I
couldn't help the smile but it was going to take a while to convince
myself he hadn't died and this wasn't some kind of cruel dream.
All I could remember was him dying….
His fingers tightened around mine. "Stephen." It was just a
rough whisper but it was the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard.
"Yeah. You're going to be okay. We got the
dinosaurs." Some part of me was insisting I alert the doctors, at
least a nurse, but I couldn't bring myself to move.
"You got the dinosaurs. No thanks to me."
"You weren't all that well."
"You saved my life. Again."
"I think we're equal." Nick's other hand lifted and I reached
over to push it back down, IVs and all, before he dislodged something
he didn't really want to. "Please behave in here, okay. Do
as you're told."
He smiled, eyes already closing. With the drugs in his system -
anti-venom and morphine - I wasn't surprised. I was still holding
his hand and without meaning to, without planning to, I raised it to my
mouth and pressed my lips to his knuckles. Don't ask me
why. But he didn't resurface to consciousness, for which I was
very, very grateful; right at that moment I'm not sure I could have
explained why I'd felt the urge to kiss his hand.
~
Everyone was pleased to see him awake and talking to us. He sat
up in bed, IV still in place but no longer attached to anything,
smiling at his visitors like he was just glad to be alive. The
venom had ravaged his system, and he tired easily for the first couple
of days, but they released him after a week's observation and I got to
be the one to take him home. I'd been his best friend longer than
the rest of them had even known him and I used that fact shamelessly
when Claudia, Abby and even Connor volunteered to give him a lift back.
I dropped his bag in the hall and followed him through to the
lounge. His right arm was still in a sling but his luck had
turned and was holding; the bite hadn't severed anything that wouldn't
mend in time and while he was going to be scarred, his pale skin and
fine blond hairs would eventually hide the worst of it. He'd
dropped into the sofa, eyes closing, the simple acts of getting dressed
and riding home in the truck having utterly wiped him out. They'd
said at the hospital that it could be weeks before he was back to his
old self, that the venom was still working its way out of his
system. He still needed a shot of the anti-venom on a daily
basis, something he wasn't at all happy about and didn't want to
administer himself. No problem, the nurse had shown me how.
Another reason - excuse - to see him every day.
I stood in the doorway of the lounge, awkward, wondering if I should stay or leave.
"How about a cup of tea?"
He surprised me. A cup of tea sounded such a normal thing, such a
mundane thing. Such a simple thing, only the milk in the fridge
had passed its 'use by' date over a month ago which meant I had to take
a walk to the nearest shop, which was half a mile away, and by the time
I got back he was asleep, snoring softly, arm cradled protectively
across his chest. I made myself a mug of coffee and joined him in
the lounge. The armchair was piled high with papers -
dissertations waiting to be evaluated, course work from lower years
waiting to be marked.
So I carefully lifted his socked feet from the sofa cushions and
dropped into the opposite corner to him, resting his feet on my
thighs. I finished my coffee, ditched the mug on the floor and
leaned back into the sofa, closing my eyes, hands coming to settle on
Nick's feet, just keeping them warm I told that nagging voice in my
head. No lines being crossed here. Just a casual touch
between friends.
When I opened my eyes again it was dark outside and Nick was watching me with an amused expression on his face.
#
Nick
I felt like I'd been hit by a truck. I'd feel the same for weeks,
according to the very patient doctor who'd looked after me in hospital;
it would improve slowly, he'd told me, and eventually I'd be back to
'normal'. I didn't bother asking him what 'normal' was supposed
to be.
But it was good to be in my own home, good to be alone for a
while. I knew the milk was off, knew Stephen would have to go out
to get some fresh and it was one way to get rid of him for just a
little while without hurting his feelings or meaning he wouldn't come
back. Just the silence of the house, the complete privacy even if
it was just for a quarter of an hour, was wonderful. I hadn't had
that in a week and I cherished it. Within a couple of minutes of
the front door closing behind him, I was asleep.
When I woke my neck was aching, it was night outside the open curtains,
and Stephen was sitting in the other corner of the sofa, sleeping,
snoring, hands wrapped around my feet. Slightly odd. Not
that I minded. Stephen's been my best friend for years - what was
a warm touch between two people who'd seen what we'd seen, who'd
experienced what we'd been though together? He'd saved my life,
dragged my out of that factory and killed the monsters before they
killed me. Disable the prey, then eat it alive, that was the
idea. I wondered if those dinosaurs had ever come up against
someone as determined as Stephen before, determined that we were both
going to make it. I'm such a lucky son-of-a-bitch, to have had
him there, to have him here.
It wasn't a huge surprise to me that I had these feelings for him, to
realise that he'd wormed his way into my life, into my soul, as deeply
as he had. I was happy to lie there, comfortable and warm, and
watch him sleeping. I needed to pee but I could wait, I didn't
want to move. A little part of me wanted him to wake up with his
hands on my feet so that I could see what his reaction would be.
Ever the scientist. And I had to wonder if the drugs in my system
were at least partially to blame for it.
It was a good twenty minutes before Stephen did wake. Probably my
fault, wiggling my toes slightly against his loose fingers. He
turned his head along the back of the sofa and mirrored my smile with
one of his own. Then he glanced down at his hands on my feet but
didn't shift them, and when he looked up at me again there was
something else in his eyes, something heated and heavy.
Experimentally I wiggled my toes again, and he rubbed the underneath of
them with his thumb, not hard, just a gentle touch but firm, meaning it.
Something in my stomach uncurled.
"Is there anything you need? Anything I can get you?" It
was an innocent question and I knew he was talking about anything other
from what my delusional body thought it wanted. I moved my head,
left to right, still smiling.
"I just need sleep, and by the looks of it, so do you."
He looked faintly disappointed and I knew why, but he admitted, "I didn't sleep at the hospital."
"You didn't have to stay with me."
"Yes, I did."
Nothing I could say to that. Reaching out, I offered him my hand
and pulled us both to the centre of the sofa, although to be fair he
was the one doing most of the pulling. "Bed upstairs is big enough for
us both to get some rest."
I couldn't believe how innocent I'd made it sound, how easy it had been
to say it. It was worth the look on his face and he nodded.
He didn't have to say anything.
~
I woke up all warm and snug under the duvet, bright sunlight filtering
in through plants on the windowsill. It was a minute or two
before my arm started to hurt and at about the same time I realised
that someone was breathing on me. Carefully I turned over,
getting my arm more comfortable, so that I could admire and enjoy the
sight of Stephen's relaxed face while he slept. Events of the
previous day came back to me slowly and I remembered what he was doing
in my bed in just his thin white sweater and boxer shorts. I was
still wearing the clothes I'd come back from the hospital in - sweat
pants and a T-shirt - my arm still in its sling although by now the
cloth was wrapped around my throat threatening to strangulate me if I
moved once more in the wrong direction.
Stephen's eyes opened and widened, awake in a second, and I thought he
was going to move away, back up at best, get out of the bed at
worst. But he didn't. He stayed put after that initial
moment of uncertainty, his face inches from mine and I suppose we both
knew what was going to happen next.
I started it, I made the first move, but only by half an inch. He
met me more than half way, mouth sealing over mine, tongue skimming my
lips before delving into my mouth. Nothing shy about him now, and
I knew his only cautiousness was coming from an awareness of my
injuries rather than any reluctance to be with me like this. He
scooted closer, one hand pressing flat against my stomach, the other
curling around the back of my throat, thumb teasing the short hairs at
the nape of my neck. It was better than good, it was perfect.
When I finally broke away, I got my free hand between his neck and the
pillow and nipped his bottom lip playfully. "Wanted to do that
for a long, long time," I admitted.
He nodded against my fingers. "Me too. Can't believe you almost had to die for us to tell each other."
"I'm fine, Stephen."
"I thought… out there, outside, I thought I'd watched you die. And I couldn’t… can't imagine any of this without you."
"What we do, it's so dangerous. There's never any guarantees we'll both come back."
"I'll make sure we both come back." Ah, the optimism of youth -
who was I to destroy that? "But if we don't, I want to make sure
we can look back on life and smile." I thought at that moment I
might be a little bit in love with him. "So how about another
kiss before I have to jab a needle in your thigh and you change your
mind about me?"
Not just a little bit. A lot. A lot in love. So I kissed him again.
