7. You're amazing.

Cress was ecstatic.

She had been travelling with Thorne for a really, really, long time now; she had seen the highest mountains, the deepest lagoons, the longest rivers; eaten the spiciest, tastiest foods. They had flown over every country, every sea.

But what she was seeing now— Cress didn't have the words.

She stared at Jacin, who was as astonished as her, and Winter, who was smiling from ear to ear. Thorne was simply there, smirking, looking at them super proud of himself. His shirt was long lost, and although Cress couldn't believe it, she preferred to look at the landscape more than she wanted to look at his abs.

She was finally there.

On a beach.

Suddenly, Winter let out a squeak and started running forward, to the shore, while Jacin laughed—surprisingly, since he wasn't a happy guy—and followed her, both of them beaming. Cress lost them when they touched the sea.

On the other side, she couldn't even breathe, because maybe, if she did so, she would wake up, everything she was seeing disappearing into a dream. Thorne nudged her, and she managed, somehow, to turn around, look at him; he caught a strand of her hair between his fingers and pull, playfully. Cress opened her mouth, closed it, opened it, closed it again; she didn't know what to say.

Speechless.

It was sunny and there were lots of people and the warm sand beneath her feet and all those children jumping over the waves and the loud laugh of Winter and the girls sunbathing and the boys reading with the shade of enormous parasols. She saw a man with bronze skin with a girl with curls and chocolate flesh over his shoulder, and she couldn't help but smile because of her friends.

"I'm starting to think you're going comatose," Thorne murmured, brushing his thumb against the side of her face. Cress bit her lips and, suddenly, jumped. He laughed, and Cress hugged him tightly, smelling the scent of his cologne. "Is that a heart attack?"

"Maybe," she heard herself saying, but couldn't quite place it. "It' beautiful and… and…"

"You know? I kind of missed the beautiful thing. Remember? When you saw the sky and that animal and—"

"I remember," Cress interrupted. Because she did; when they were lost in the desert and he couldn't see and she had been kidnapped and he had won and scort-droid. She remembered every detail of those days, and how she always described everything as beautiful.

She still did.

"But I don't know how to swim."

Thorne laughed, and it irritated Cress a little; she broke the embrace and lifted her head, fixing her eyes on his, bright blue, as always. She couldn't blame him, since he didn't think before spoke most of the time. Ugh. Looking away, Cress took off her shorts and her t-shirt, her pink bikini showing, the scar Thorne had made while stabbing her, too.

Cress heard him gulping, then kissed his cheek. "I can teach you, anyway," he proposed, and her smile brightened.

"But—"

Without realising what was happening, Thorne spurred his arms around her torso and lifted her, placing Cress on his shoulder, just like Jacin had done with Winter. She screamed, people staring, though Thorne didn't seem to care; she punched him endlessly on the back, on the shoulders, but he was made of stone.

And suddenly, she was wet with salty water, screaming now because of how cold it was, trying to escape while Thorne walked—or swam, she didn't know—forward, sinking, sinking. Soon, her entire body was underwater, only her head on the surface.

When Thorne let go of her, she didn't dare move, since she would sink. "Thorne," she said, but her voice didn't quite sound as fierce as she wanted it to.

"You're amazing," he purred, kissing her tight, which was beside his mouth. Goose bumps erupted in her arms, but Cress didn't know if it was because of the cold sea water or because the kiss.

Probably because the water.

Placing his hands on her hips, Thorne lifted her, all his body underwater, and Cress squeaked. His head was there again in no time, nonetheless, looking at her, since he was hugging her now. Cress embraced him like her life depended on it because, well. It actually did.

"You are an idiot."

He kissed her in response.