arin

Come closer, and I will tell you."But he forgot. He kissed her, and became lost in the exquisite sensation of his skin becoming too tight for his body. He murmured other things instead. A secret, a want, a promise. A story, in its own way.

It was different to give something up than to see it taken away. The difference, Kestrel said, was choice.

She turned to look at him, and he was already looking at her. ____ going to miss you when I wake up,_ she whispered, because she realized that she must have fallen asleep under the sun. Arin was too real for her imagination. He was a dream.__on__ wake up,_ he said.

Yet he understood that there are some things you feel and others that you choose to feel, and that the choice doesn't make the feeling less valid.

He'd believed it. She couldn't believe that he believed it. Sometimes, she hated him for that.