Bliss

ten

I wouldn't say I'm a morning person. I don't like chirping birds or dewy grass. That is, I don't like them if there isn't a steaming mug of coffee involved. And yet, it's barely dawn, and I'm up. Bleary-eyed and coffee-less, but up.

Oh, and there's no chirping birds or dewy grass. There's almost no sun either. Just murky darkness, cicadas and Isaac. I'm a good meter behind him, watching as he marches up the trail like the grand old Duke of York. With every surefooted step, his arms swing and his calf muscles tense. They're sharp and smooth all at the same time and jut out rather attractively.

Don't get it twisted; I'm not a leg person. And if I were, I certainly wouldn't be into his legs. But looking at them reminds me just how much he's changed. Physically that is. After all, he was never really the type of guy who had sexy legs, more like the guy with kind eyes, but nothing can stay the same forever. Us out together at the crack of dawn is proof enough of that.

Isaac stops rather abruptly and spins around. He grins down at me, cupping his hands around his mouth. "Hurry up," he bellows, his laughter bounding down beside the words.

"We've been walking forever," I shout back, increasing my pace anyway.

"You're being dramatic."

"That's easy for you to say. You seem to enjoy this shit."

He only laughs harder. "We're almost there," he says, offering his hand to yank me up a steeper part of the trail. "And the view is totally worth it."

That's how he got me up, by the way. Whispered promises of a beautiful sunrise, and I slipped out of bed without a second thought. Little did I know, it required a gruelling hike up an ashen trail at a thousand miles per hour with general dickface.

Honestly, who moves this fast this early?

"Have you done this before?" I ask, speeding up once the assent levels out.

"I come most mornings," he admits, slowing down to match my shorter strides. "That is when strange girls don't fall asleep in my bed."

"I thought we weren't going to talk about that." I'd never expressly asked him not to, but then I don't think it requires an ask.

"Who said I was?" He wriggles his eyebrows.

I falter and trip over my own feet.

"Steady on." His hands curl around my waist as he hauls me into his chest. "What is it with you and falling?"

"It's not my fault," I huff, shoving him away. "And anyway, we aren't talking about me."

"We aren't?"

"No, we're talking about you and the girl from the club."

"What about her?"

"Well, if I'm not the strange girl, who else is it but her?"

It's pretty impossible even then. I mean, I woke up in his bed two days ago, and we're here now. But then Henry did sneak her friend in last night. If he got with one of them, it's a given that Isaac got with the other. Right?

Oh, what does it matter? It's not like it's my business or that I care. Because I totally don't care, and it's totally not my business. Still, Isaac laughs a little too loudly, and I kick my foot out to trip him. Not to hurt him, just to shut him up.

"I was taking the piss," he says once he regains his footing. "You're the only strange girl out there. And even if I wasn't joking, she's not exactly my type."

"Stunningly beautiful women aren't your type?" He's lying. He has to be. That girl is everybody's type.

"She's good looking," he says, his words slow and considered. "But physical attraction only gets you so far, you know."