Locked

Chapter Thirteen

This time I wake up in his arms. We fell asleep and now it’s nearly evening. His eyes are closed, but when I kiss his neck I feel his arms tighten reflexively around me.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi.”

We kiss lazily for a few minutes. His hands move up and down my arms. He kisses my nose. Then right behind my ear.

“That tickles,” I say, laughing.

“Noted.”

My stomach starts to growl, and I realize I have not eaten a single thing today. I left early to meet with the chief and since then have had only water.

“Hungry?” Noah asks.

“Starving,” I say.

“I’ll be back,” he says. He kisses me and then stands up. I try to pull him back down. “I don’t want you to go,” I say. I wrap my arms around his torso and bring his face down to mine. “Sustenance,” he says, “is key.” His lips meet my shoulder and then travel back up my neck. I sigh. Food seems overrated. “I’ll be back.”

He pulls on clothes and I watch him go. I lie back. It’s weird. I know I shouldn’t be this happy. I know I should want to get back home, that I should be looking for a way, but I can’t help it. I feel content. It’s not just right for him; it’s right for me, too. Because my life ended the instant we crashed, and my new one, this one, began that same moment. My life with Noah. Maybe he’s not the only one who belongs here. Maybe I do, too.

I slip on some clothes and join him in the kitchen. He’s baking fish, and he hands me a ceramic plate of cut fruit. I devour it all, and he gives me more. I have a flare of pride that Noah’s presence has created a life that flourishes here.

“Better?” he says when I’ve finished. He takes the empty plate out of my hands and wraps his arm around my waist. He draws me close to him and kisses me once. He sets the plate down but doesn’t let go of me, and with his other hand he tucks some hair behind my ear. “I love you,” he says. “Have I said that yet?”

“In so many words,” I say. My chest feels light, like it’s rising. Like it might just float up without me.

“Well, I do,” he says. “In case it isn’t obvious, I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I whisper.

I’ve said “I love you” before to Ed. But when Noah kisses me, I know I’ve never felt anything close to this. I’ve never meant it before, not like this.

Noah takes my face in his hands. His eyes look into mine, and there is an intensity I haven’t seen there before. If I didn’t know better, I’d call it something close to desperation. “I want you to know that, okay?” he says. “Whatever happens, I have always loved you and I will always love you.”

I smile. “Okay,” I whisper. “I know.” I kiss his temples. The bridge of his nose. “But nothing is going to happen.”

For a moment something passes over his face, but it’s gone before I can recognize what it is. And then we’re kissing again and I’m so lost in him—his warmth, the way it feels to be close to him—that I don’t think to question it. I don’t think to hit pause on that moment and study it. Turn it over.

All I think about is now.

We eat more and then get back into bed. I don’t think I will ever get sick of touching him. The endless exploration of sensation—there there there. The way he seems to anticipate what I need before I know it myself. It’s like he’s living inside me. Like we’re sharing one ecstatic, electrified body. It feels like every part—arms, legs, knees, lips—was made for us and us alone. No one has ever used them like this. No one has ever felt what we do. No two people have ever fit together so perfectly. He whispers my name over and over, and I think I’ve never heard anything more beautiful. My name on his lips in sweet, delicious surrender.

I fall asleep in Noah’s arms. And all through the night, I feel them around me—strong, protective. It feels like nothing could pull me out of them. Not the morning. Not hunger. Not thirst. Not even a natural disaster.

And I’m right. Ultimately, it’s none of those things. It’s a helicopter.