— JENNIE

..

It's dark out. I can barely see…

No. My head turns to the right.

I'm cold from the rain. My breathing is uneven as I search around…

No. My head moves to the left.

I'm so scared. I can hear the boots trudging through the mud. They're getting closer. I run…

No. White-knuckled, my fingers grip the bed sheets.

I run faster, harder. Out of breath and lungs burning, I run, not looking back, just pushing forward…

No. Go away. Just go away.

I lose balance, slip, and fall. With shaky hands, I try to lift myself up. My gaze meets the tombstone.

No! My eyes flash open.

The dream. It's the same nightmare over and over again. When I think there's no way it'll come back, it proves me wrong every single time. It usually happens when I'm under a lot of stress, when my life is chaotic. Like now—or at least I think it is. I don't know. I'm more confused than I've ever been.

I wet my dry lips and sit up, leaning my head against the headboard. There's nowhere to run or hide. I'm trapped in this room. My eyes quickly scan the space. The creeping feeling that someone is watching me crawls over my skin, and I nervously peer into the dark corners, praying someone isn't lurking there, waiting to attack.

My large bedroom feels small all of a sudden, like the walls are caving in. I've felt safe behind these walls for the last twenty-one years of my life, but now they're betraying me.

My stomach churns and my throat starts to close, as if an invisible hand is slowly choking me.

I'm suffocating.

I need air or water or an escape. I just need to breathe. Find some way to just breathe. I push the sheets off. It's so damn hot in here; I brush away the sticky strands of hair from my face. Talking myself into it, I allow my legs to dangle off the side of the bed. I'm dizzy, my mouth is dry, my chest is tight—I need to call someone. I reach for my cell phone on top of the nightstand. With a shaky finger, I skim through the short contact list. Rosé is away on vacation with her family for the Fourth of July week.

I'm stuck. The walls are zooming in. Closer. I breathe in and out, three soothing breaths.

Lisa.

She's been an amazing friend over the last month, but the more time we spend with one another, the closer I feel to her. Too close. And I'm frightened that one day she'll pull away. She'll pull away as soon as she knows. I suspect she has an idea of what's wrong with me. Even though I feel better about myself when I'm around her, I sink right back into reality when we're apart. The reality where Lisa can never be mine.

Mine? What is wrong with me? She's not an object I get to claim; she wasn't handed off to me or gifted or purchased. Lisa remains the sole owner of herself. But shamelessly, I still want her to be mine.

"Hello?" Lisa's voice, low and raspy, prickles through the speaker. I look down at the phone in my hand. Oh God, I didn't realize I hit the call button when I saw her name on the list. "Hello…Jennie?" I hear again, her voice sleepy.

I quickly bring the cell to my ear. "I-I'm so sorry, Lisa. I didn't mean to wake you. Please, try to go back to sleep," I whisper.

She yawns. "It's cool. What time is it?" She pauses. I look at my clock just as she recites the time. "It's almost two in the morning, Jersey Girl. Are you all right?"

The sound of her voice is soothing, especially when she says the nickname she made up for me. It's something I've grown accustomed to over the past few weeks. "Yeah…I just had a bad dream."

"Another one, huh?" she says, her tone a bit clearer now. I can hear her bed squeak, as if she's adjusting herself to sit up.

Last weekend at the lake house, Lisa and I fell asleep on the couch in the living area. That couch has been known as our spot for the last month. We'd stayed up most of the night watching movies while everyone else sat out back partying. I didn't realize I'd dozed off until Lisa gently shook me awake. She said I was shaking and whimpering in my sleep. Even though I knew, I couldn't tell her what my dream was about. I did tell her, however, that it's a nightmare I've been dealing with for a very long time. She didn't question me, thank goodness. She rarely does. But waking up to Lisa made me feel safe. I guess that's why I subconsciously called her just now.

"Yeah," I say. "The same one."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Not really. I guess I just needed to hear your voice," I confess. "It calms me."

She chuckles. The sound of the low rumble deep within her chest shoots a warm liquid through my heart, and a tug starts at the corner of my lips. "That's good to hear," she says.

"Yeah," I say, trying to think of something else to keep her on the phone a bit longer.

"Jersey Girl?"

"Yes?"

"Want me to come over? I mean, I know your father is away on a business trip and your mother left for that stupid spa retreat with her friends. And Rosé's on vacation with her family. You're all alone in that house. I know you're probably afraid."

She's right. I am alone. I've never felt more alone than I do now. "I am scared, I guess. But I don't want you to drive here at this time. It's late—or early… Whatever. I'll be okay."

"I don't mind. Tomorrow is the Fourth and I'm off. If I leave now, at this time, there shouldn't be any traffic. I can make it there in thirty minutes. Only if you want, of course. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable."

"You don't make me uncomfortable, Lisa."

Her silence says she doesn't believe that. Have my reactions to certain things convinced her otherwise? "Well, the offer is still there," she says.

"Okay." I finally cave in. I want her here with me. I'm afraid of this house, of my dream, and of my own thoughts. I want Lisa to clear all of it away, like she always unknowingly does.

"All right, see you soon."

We end our call. I hop out of bed and walk into the bathroom. I look like crap, so I wash my face, brush my teeth, and comb my hair. Then I tread down the stairs and wait at the bottom step, in the foyer by the door.

I just sit and wait.

..

The doorbell sounds, startling me a bit. I stand, rubbing the numbness out of my behind from sitting on the marble stairs, and then shut off the alarm and open the door. With sleepy eyes, Lisa smiles adorably at me and scratches the back of her head. Her hair is a bit longer than when we first met. A little giggle escapes me. "You have bed hair."

Lisa's mouth slants into a crooked grin as she brushes her hand over the wild locks. "Well, I did hop out of bed and run to your rescue. Give me some credit, huh?"

Even at almost three in the morning she's an ass. I playfully shove my hand against her shoulder. "All right, big girl, no need to be all cocky." I smile. "Come on in." Stepping aside, I give her room to shuffle in. When she does, I shut the door, lock it, and punch the code into the alarm. "Are you hungry or thirsty?" I ask her.

"Nah. You?" she asks.

I shake my head. "Well, um, I guess we can go up to my room."

Lisa nods once. It's not like I'm nervous or anything. I've been alone with Lisa a lot in the past few weeks, especially in her apartment. But she's never been in my bedroom, and I've never been in hers. A bedroom is kind of a sacred space. Asking someone to go in with you could give the wrong impression—especially for us. Will she be able to see right through me and know the exact person I am by my possessions? I shake that thought aside. I trust Lisa, so I walk up the stairs, and she slowly follows behind me.

As I enter my room, I look around. Suddenly I'm insecure of my things. I wonder what she's thinking as she takes in the cave I spend most of my time in. Is she judging the light grey walls and sleek black furniture? What about the built-in bench by the window? It's filled with three stuffed animals my father gave me as a child, and I just can't seem to let go of them. Does she think them juvenile?

I walk carefully toward the bed, turn to face her, and then plop down cross-legged on the center of the mattress. Lisa's eyes roam over the shelving unit by my desk, which is filled with old art sketches and oil paintings. "Did you sketch these?" she asks with her back to me.

"Yeah. A long time ago."

"Damn, Jersey Girl. I knew you were talented with the oil paintings, but these are very detailed. They're amazing."

"Thanks."

Lisa drops the clear plastic shopping bag she walked in with on top of my desk. Through the bag I can see jeans and a white fabric, which I'm guessing is a T-shirt. She turns around, facing me, and comes my way. My heartstrings thrum when she reaches the edge of the bed and slightly lifts her shirt, reaching for the button of her jeans. She looks up. "I hope you don't mind? I usually sleep naked, but I'll keep my boxers and sports bra on this time." She winks with a grin.

Naked? "Uh, no, that's fine." My voice, I'm sure, is a bit shaky.

Nodding, she drops her jeans, then grips the edge of her shirt, lifting it up and over her head. Each groove and line of her ab muscles flexes in the process. I swallow hard. I've seen her practically naked in swim trunks. This isn't a big deal. Just think of swim trunks and quit ogling her.

My traitorous eyes navigate over her chest, which is just begging to be touched, down her perfectly abs, also begging to be touched, and past the V of her hipbones, which I wouldn't mind running my tongue along. Then comes…her package. The fabric of her grey boxer briefs, snuggly wrapped around her impressive size, has my breath quickening and my mouth watering. All my self-control abandons ship and my thoughts betray me as images of Lisa climbing into bed and covering my body with hers explode in my mind. The only thing I can see are her blue-grey eyes filled with lust, penetrating mine as she drives her cock inside of me.

Oh my God.

I tear my eyes away, flushed and embarrassed by where my mind just went. Trying to shake away the shameless thoughts, I scoot over to the left side of the bed, giving Lisa room to join me on the right side. I feel the dip in the mattress as she settles in. I can't look at her again; I feel like I've been caught red-handed. The yellow and blue polka dots scattered around my pajama bottoms are extremely interesting all of a sudden. I trace each one along my thigh. God, I look like a five-year-old in PJ bottoms and a white cami next to her extremely adult, body clad only in boxer briefs.

"Everything okay?" Lisa prods.

I make the mistake of looking up. She's in my bed, half naked with her head propped against the headboard. Her waist and legs are beneath my covers, but her upper body is in full view, completely on display. I sigh again. "No. I mean…" I shake my head. "Yes. Yes, everything is okay," I fumble. Obviously I've forgotten how to speak

"Well, come here. I feel lonely over here."

Nodding, I scoot back so I'm leaning against the headboard like she is and drag the comforter up to my waist. My hand smooths over the steel blue fabric. The color reminds me of Lisa's eyes. Funny, I never put that together before now. "So what shall we talk about to keep that pretty little head of yours clear of bad thoughts?"

Tilting my head along the cushioned headboard, I cross my arms and meet her gaze. "What makes you think I have bad thoughts in my head?"

"You must have bad thoughts before bed if you keep having the same bad dreams over and over again. Something keeps bothering you. If you actually let me in and talk to me about it, it may help." There's a slight hint of annoyance in her tone, which in turn annoys me.

"I have let you in, Lisa. Other than Rosé, you're probably the only person I have ever let in, besides Jisoo."

She shakes her head. "Don't try to humor me. You don't and you know it. You beat around the bush with me. You never tell me what's bothering you. You won't tell me how you feel. It's like you skip over it, and I allow it. I accepted it because I thought you needed time, but now I'm not so sure if it's time you need. I feel like you'll always keep everything bottled up inside."

"Wow. If that's how you truly feel, then why are you even here?"

She bites down, jaw clenching. Through her teeth she mutters, "Because believe it or not I actually care about you."

"No one asked you to," I spit out, crossing my arms and looking away.

"Well, it's a little too late for that, huh?"

"What is that even supposed to mean?" I ask. Lisa lets out a mocking laugh. I scowl at her. "What's so funny?"

"You. Me. Us. Everything!" She raises her hands for dramatic effect. "Look at us. We're arguing like we're a damn couple."

"Yeah. Well, we're not."

"You've made that very clear," she retorts bitterly. Then she scoots down into the covers and roughly turns to her side, giving me her back. So I guess we're done with whatever this was—disagreement, argument, misunderstanding?

Yes, it was harsh. I know it was. But we're not a damn couple and I don't want her to think we are. I'm just…I don't know. I'm frustrated now—frustrated at myself for being such a bitch and frustrated at her for wanting more, for making me want more too.

I stand and pad over to the light switch by the door, mulling over the shitty turn that the last few minutes took. The small lamp on the nightstand casts the only light in the room now.

Slipping back underneath the bedsheets, I rest on my side with my head on my arm. I stare at the back of Lisa's head while my mind wheels in circles trying to fill the silence. She's in my room, and I know she's mad, and I want to know what the hell is currently going on in her head, but I don't dare ask because it isn't fair. How can I ask her what's going on in her head if I can't even tell her what goes on in mine? Now I understand her frustration.

"Art was always my thing, even as a child, as far back as I can remember," I start off quietly, my gaze lingering on Lisa's rumpled brown hair. Her shoulders slowly lift and drop with her even breaths.

Silence. Then, "Yeah?" She speaks but doesn't move.

"Yeah," I reply and keep going while I have the guts to do it now. "It's difficult for me to share or show my feelings. It was the same when I was a kid. I always drew, pencil to paper, and later discovered painting. Art was the only way I could express my emotions. I could create something beautiful without the risk of getting hurt." I laugh at the thought. "I know it may sound stupid."

Lisa shifts, rolling over to the left side of her body so she's facing me now. She stares at me, her head gently resting against the pillow. Not a trace of humor can be found on her face. "It doesn't sound stupid at all," she says.

"Maybe. Maybe not." I shrug. "The more I relied on my drawings or paintings as a way to cope with all my bottled-up emotions, the worse I got. It triggered something else, and I withdrew even more into myself. It got so bad that the one thing I was truly passionate about slowly became an enemy.

"My heart gradually shut out all those who cared for me, making me numb. Painting became the only way I could effectively communicate. I poured all of my frustration into my paintings, so much so that when I got overwhelmed to the point of a breakdown, I exploded. One huge destruction. I couldn't paint fast enough to handle everything, and I couldn't handle painting or drawing without crying, without falling apart. It hurt too much. Once it came to that, I told myself I wouldn't do it again. So I shoved most of my paintings and all my art supplies into a large cardboard box, metaphorically storing away all my emotions. I couldn't handle it anymore, so I just stopped."

"How long has it been since you last painted?"

I try to think back on it. "A little over nine months. My last painting was a month after Jisoo died. I never finished it. It's the only painting I've never finished."

Her eyes glisten as if a memory just sparked. "That one painting in your shed, when I walked in and asked for the measuring tape… That was the one, wasn't it?" she asks.

I nod. "That was the first time since I stored all my paintings away that I looked at all of them. My psychiatrist thought I was ready to start again, but I didn't feel ready yet. I don't think I'll ever be ready."

So many questions linger in her stare, but she doesn't ask. Instead she makes a statement. "You're so talented, you can't let that go to waste."

"Do you like to build?" I ask her.

"Yeah," she answers, a bit thrown off by the question.

"Why?"

"Just…because I do." She shrugs.

"No. There's a reason why."

She thinks for a moment. "Because knowing I took part in creating something that others can enjoy is rewarding somehow."

"Exactly. That's how I felt for a very long time, fulfilled at the end of each piece I'd created. But then it turned into something else. Something darker. I was no longer fulfilled; I was angry at everything and everyone. My anger slowly turned into something more and then, before I knew it, creating art wasn't fun anymore. Every time I tried, it triggered something else." I shut my mouth and then open it to tell her. Tell her what it triggered. Tell her about my disorder. Tell her who I truly am.

Then Lisa scoots in closer, reaching her hand over my waist and bringing me into her. We're both in the middle of my mattress. My hand easily lands on her chest, and hers rises to rest on the base of my neck. "You will create art again and when you do, you'll have that feeling back at the end of each piece. Because I believe in you and your work and the person you are."

"I don't think I'm strong enough to handle it," I confess, and I truly don't think I am.

She brings her head to mine. Her lips touch the tip of my nose, my forehead, and finally my chin. Our little thing. Ever since the first time she's done it, she's never stopped, and I will never let her. I'd rather have a thousand little Lisa kisses like those than no kiss at all, because when her lips lightly caress my skin, she's mine and I'm hers.

She rests her forehead against mine. "You're stronger than you think, Jersey Girl."

"I hope so," I whisper.

..

I wake up to the smell of buttery pancakes and bacon. Lisa steps forward at my bedside, a plate in one hand and a glass of OJ in the other. She rests the glass on my nightstand. Her smile is contagious, forcing me to smile back as I sit up.

"Good morning, Jersey Girl. You slept like a baby."

"That's the first time in a long time I've slept like that in my own room."

She smiles, handing me a plate. "Breakfast in bed," she announces proudly.

I grab the plate, placing it on my lap. Two pancakes, three strips of bacon, and scrambled eggs. "You actually cooked?" I ask in disbelief.

"Yeah. Unlike at my place, your folks actually had something in the fridge." She sits on the edge of the bed beside me, studying my features.

"Thank you. Um, I usually don't eat breakfast, though."

Lisa lifts her leg up on the bed and twirls her body so she's face-to-face with me. "How 'bout this—if you eat up, I'll give you a hint about a little surprise I have in store for today."

"Surprise?"

"Yep."

"What kind of surprise?" I ask.

Her lips curl up into a grin. "Eat up." I stab my fork into the fluffy cake and take a bite. "There you go, Jersey Girl. Let's get some meat on those bones."

"What?" I mumble through my mouthful. "I'm not skinny."

She chuckles. "Eat up, will ya?"

I quickly scarf the rest of it down until my belly's aching and on the verge of exploding from being full. But it was worth every bite to see the satisfied look on Lisa's face as I took my last swallow. That's the best breakfast I've had in a really long time.

..

"This is not fair! You made me eat all that breakfast and you haven't given me one hint!"

We've been driving for almost two hours now. First, Lisa had to stop by her apartment to grab a few things. She asked me to wait in the car, which I did. When she came back out, she held a black book bag over her right shoulder. When she entered the truck and I asked what was in the bag, she tossed it in the backseat and told me it was none of my business.

"I gave you a tiny hint already," she says.

"Telling me to bring a change of clothes and dress comfortably with sneaks is definitely not a hint."

"We're heading toward the lake house."

"Is that the big surprise? The lake house?"

She laughs at my unenthusiastic tone. "No. We'll be there tonight to hang out. Mingyu, JK, and a handful of people will be there. It won't be packed since everyone is with their families for barbeques and fireworks and crap like that."

"Why aren't you and Mingyu with your family for the Fourth of July?"

"Because my mother hasn't celebrated the last two years; it's too close to Jackson's birthday. Uncle George usually hangs out with his buddies. It's not really a big holiday for us."

"Oh."

"But I can tell you where I'm taking you is nearby the lake house." She steers the wheel as she turns her head to take a quick peek my way. Her smile brightens. "Oh, come on, Jersey."

"Come on what?" I ask innocently.

"What's that face for? I expect you to be enthused by the mystery of this adventure."

"Honestly? The lake house isn't a huge surprise. I wouldn't have scarfed down my breakfast for—"

"Oh, have a little faith." Lisa shakes her head at me in mock disappointment. "I only said it was by the lake house. It could be the most epic surprise of your life for all you know." I cock my head to study her. She catches me staring and smiles.

"Okay. Fine," I relent. "I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. This could be the best surprise ever!" I joke, slamming my hand to my chest and batting my eyelashes at her.

"See? Now you're getting it, Jersey."

..

Lisa parks her truck in a large dirt-filled parking lot surrounded by tall trees. There's a handful of cars spread out in the lot. I unclick my safety belt but stay inside, scooting toward the dashboard and crooking my neck to get a better look.

We're parked at the base of a trail into the woods, but these woods aren't like the ones by the lake house. Those are open and airy and you can see at least a mile. These woods, even though it's sunny and bright out, feel dark, secretive. Hundreds of tree trunks hide what's beyond.

Run.

Sweat coats my skin, trailing behind a sheet of goose bumps. My fingers grip the edge of the seat as I stare ahead. I stare and stare, waiting for him to jump out—the person watching me. I can't see him, but I can feel his eyes penetrating through the trees, across miles of wildlife, through the windshield, and straight into me. He's waiting for me to step out of the truck.

Run.

"All right, Jersey let's do this—"

Lisa stops midsentence. Shuddering, I slowly turn my head to her. She's beside me with the door wide open. Her eyes cautiously take in the fear in mine. "Are you all right?" she asks.

I'm not. Everything in my stomach is churning, my mind is racing, and my heart stammers in my chest. I'm not all right. I'm scared and though I don't know the man that I'm afraid of, I can't help that I am. I don't want to be anywhere near him.

Lisa's hand finds its way to my cheek. The warmth from the contact instantly soothes me. I lean my face into her, wishing I could shrink and curl into a tiny ball and live in the safe haven that is Lisa Manoban's palm for the rest of my life.

"Look at me," she urges kindly. My eyes flutter open, mesmerized by stormy blues as they fill with concern for me. "We can leave," she says, acknowledging my discomfort.

You always ruin everything.

Shut up, I tell the voice in my head.

You do! Just because you've ruined your own life, doesn't mean you have to ruin it for everyone else, You're pathetic…

Straightening my shoulders, I suck in a shaky breath and fight back the urge to burst into tears. As much as I hate the voice, it's right. I ruin everything for everyone.

Slowly, I shake my head side-to-side. Lisa's brows draw in, "You sure?" I nod. She's not convinced. "I don't know, Jersey—"

"I'm fine!" I croak. Clearing my throat, I finally say, "Seriously, I just thought I saw something, that's all. I'm fine now. I promise."

Lisa stares at me, hyperaware of every bit of my anxiety. She turns her head toward the evil woods. I focus on her, breathing a little heavier than normal. Finally her eyes are back on mine and everything is okay again, if only for a moment. My lips tremble into a shy grin.

"All right, then," she says. "Let's get to it." She reaches her hand out for me. I grab it without hesitation and hop out of her truck.

Lisa intertwines her fingers with mine, tightening her grip as she pulls me in closer to her, but our bodies remain inches apart. Using her free hand, she shuts the passenger door behind me.

I take in all of her actions. Even if they mean nothing to her, they mean everything to me. The way her body towers over mine—it makes me feel safe. The way she pulls me in close enough to breathe in the smell of Gain fabric softener lingering on her fresh T-shirt—it sets my senses whirling. The way our bodies touch without actually touching, my chest centimeters from the middle of her stomach—it only intensifies the magnetic pull between us, slowly luring me to her.

I'm falling deeper and deeper into an ocean filled with nothing but emotions for Lisa Manoban. I'm the anchor sinking to the bottom. Reality is the life vest thrown in to rescue me. But in my life, I don't want to be rescued from reality. I want to drown in this small world created with Lisa. I want to breathe it all in, let it fill me up, and drift away. I don't care how much it'll burn or the amount of time I have left before my lungs stop working. I want to just feel this way for as long as I can.

What is this feeling? I have no idea, but I know that it hurts and heals and nurtures all at the same time.

"You see over there?" Lisa says, her tone low, almost a whisper, but the words sound loud in my head, pulling me out of this trance I'm in.

Fluttering my eyes open, fighting back the urge to cry—I have no idea why I have this urge, but I do—I lift my chin and meet her gaze. She looks down at me and her forehead wrinkles with worry. Quickly I force a smile, hoping to distract her. "You see over there?" she repeats, her head nudging behind me.

It takes me a moment to work up the courage to look over my shoulder. Farther down, a few feet away from her truck, is a huge wooden, worn-out sign that reads Coven Pocono Nature Trail in bold red, chipped paint.

"Is that where we're going?" My question comes out soft. I'm not sure she's heard me until I turn my head back to her.

Wetting her lips, she lets go of her grip on my hand. I'm upset at first because I need her touch. I need the contact. And she gives it to me by bringing both of her hands up to cradle my face.

I'm safe again.

"Jersey Girl," she whispers and I shut my eyes. Now and forever, I will always love that name. I don't care how much Rosé makes fun of it; it's mine. All mine. Lisa gave it to me and it will forever be only mine. "We don't have to go in. I just… I don't know. I wanted to show you how beautiful it can be. It may look scary and dark on the outside, but on the inside there's so much more. So much potential, so much room to grow."

Swallowing back a hiccup lodged in the center of my throat, I meet her gaze and nod.

She smiles.

Lisa drops her hands from my face and takes ahold of my hand again. We step forward, side-by-side, toward the entrance of the trail. I lean in closer to her, and my eyes focus on our sneakers crunching against old fallen branches and leaves underfoot.

Lisa stops abruptly just before we walk into the trail. "I almost forgot," she says, slinging the backpack in front of her and catching it between her knees. With her left hand still tangled with mine, she struggles with the zipper using her other hand. Once it's halfway open, she opens the flap. "Can you grab the camera in there?" she asks me.

Raising my brow in question, I do as she asked, digging my free hand in to remove an all-black, older Canon model camera with the extended lens perfectly intact. It's sturdy and a bit heavy in my delicate hand, but I keep it secure while Lisa zips up the book bag and swings it back into place behind her.

"What's this for?" I ask.

"We're going to take photos."

"Photos?"

"Yep." She nods. Then she wraps the strap from the camera around my neck. It drops heavily, dangling over my chest.

"Why?"

"You'll see." She moves forward, turning to see what's keeping me in place when I don't move. Her features relax. "Do you trust me?"

I nod.

"How much?"

"With all I have," I admit.

She steps back to me and tilts her head lower, pursing her lips and then giving me SLKs (Special Lisa Kisses). Nose. Forehead. Chin.

My body instantly relaxes and before I know it, we're in the woods, walking down the trail. At first it's just like any nature trail—tall trees, leaves and branches shielding the sky, a hint of sunlight beaming through.

My fingers grip Lisa's hand tight as we tread on. I look all around us: up, left, ahead, right, over my shoulder. No one is in sight. I let this roll through my mind a few times before I relax again.

We continue to walk in silence for about twenty minutes when Lisa stops midstride. I look up at her. Her head is tilted back, staring up as her shoulders move steadily with her breaths. "Do you see that?" she asks.

I look up, trying to figure out what she's looking at, but I don't see anything, well, except for the branches and leaves above us. I look back to Lisa who has let go of my hand and is now bending at the knees. She lies down on her back, crosses her legs, and then folds her hands over her stomach.

I step up beside her, looking down as she smirks up at me. "What are you doing?" I ask.

"Admiring."

"Admiring what?"

She taps the ground beside her, gesturing for me to lie next to her. I look around us. We're in the middle of a trail with no one in sight and she just wants to lie down? It's weird, but Lisa always has a reason behind her actions, so I just shrug it off and get comfy beside her. Positioning my body the same as hers, I adjust the camera on top of my chest so it doesn't tip over to the ground.

We gaze at Mother Nature above us. The vibrant colors of tea-green leaves, lemon chiffon sun, and celestial sky blue artistically paint the perfect image. It's soothing and perfect. I take in a deep breath and just marvel at it. I wish I could capture this and keep it forever.

Then I remember the camera. Reaching for it, I remove the lens cap, switch it on, and bring the eyepiece in view.

Click. Click. Click.

I stop midclick, tilting my head to find Lisa with a full-tooth grin, still looking up. "Why so happy?" I ask her.

"Just because." She shrugs.

Click.

She tilts her head to look at me.

Click.

Her smile weakens. "Stop snapping pictures of me!" She moans.

I giggle. She looks cute when she's upset.

Click. Click. Click.

"I'm going to rip that camera out of your hands and return the favor."

I stick my tongue out at her and adjust the lens to snap another shot when pink shoelaces appear in the frame right beside Lisa's head. Slowly, I lower the camera and follow the shoelaces up two little legs to a small body and curious round face.

"Momma, look!" A little girl—no older than three—points down at us. I sit up. The mother runs up and quickly grips her daughter's hand.

"I'm so sorry," the lady says to us.

Lisa chuckles as she sits up. "No problem."

"Momma, I'm big girl," the toddler says, wrinkling her nose as she tries with all of her strength to pull her hand away from her mother's.

"Yes, Lana, a very big girl. But big girls need to hold their mommy's hand. Besides, I'm not ready to let you go. You think you can do that for mommy?"

"O-tay," the little girl says, defeated. Then she jumps up and down. "But come on! We go on adtwenter."

"Yes, Lana. Let's go on the adventure." The woman treads forward with her daughter, looks back at us, and mouths "sorry" one more time.

I watch as the mother and daughter walk side-by-side, the toddler's tiny sneakers stomping and hopping around as she talks away—her words barely understandable—and the mother nodding, laughing, and just enjoying her daughter. A smile pulls at the corner of my lips. I lift the camera, zoom in on the two of them, and take the perfect shot.

"All right," Lisa announces with a single clap. "You ready to finish the rest of our adtwenter?"

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