Page 18

Twelve

Huck

Stella snored, that surprised me. It was an adorable little whir, like a kitten purring.

I glanced over at her curled up beside me on the bed and mulled over this discovery.

Honestly, she could’ve produced a perfect impression of a human lawnmower and I still would’ve wanted to spend every night next to her.

But the gentle vibrato of her breathing only made her more magnetic.

Up until now, I hadn’t been able to believe that she was real.

She was this magical creature. A treasure hunter, a muse?

She even sounded made up. But the snoring confirmed she was not a character I’d invented or a figment of my desperate imagination.

She turned a bit, nuzzling herself into me, and I wrapped my arm snugly around her.

I wanted to keep her safe and warm. To pore over ancient poems and decipher clues with her.

I was ready to hold her metal detector, or her purse, or her hand. Whatever she wanted.

I replayed our conversation from the night before.

I was fairly certain that we’d both shared things that we hadn’t told anyone else, and while that would’ve normally left me feeling incredibly exposed and like I was reeling with some sort of verbal hangover, I was relieved somehow. But I hadn’t said everything.

I hadn’t told her why Clark deserted me.

Dawn came early, too early for my liking, but an energy I hadn’t felt in a long time left me unable to sleep.

I watched Stella as she slumbered beside me, hands still tucked beneath her cheek, her pink lips parted slightly, a strand of light hair fallen over her cheek.

The compass tattoo peeked out and made me wonder how many other hidden treasures she had for me to discover.

I could’ve looked at her like this, so peaceful resting there, knowing that she felt safe enough with me to share, to fall asleep beside me, for hours, days even.

I reached down to brush the strand from her face. Years?

I could buy a boat, I thought, learn to sail.

It wouldn’t matter that I get seasick. I could overcome that.

Stella could teach me. She could plot our adventures and I could write them.

Sea salt–flavored kisses and making love in the moonlight at anchor.

I indulged in these daydreams while she snored away in my arms. We were giving couple interviews on Good Morning America —I did those again—telling the hosts about how we both found treasure in hidden depths and each other.

She was waving to me from the bow of the boat before diving into some cerulean waters; I plunged in after her.

I wanted to stay like this, in a fantasy future conjured beneath the warm covers with the very real woman who’d made me want to imagine things again.

My arm fell asleep and I got a crick in my neck, but I couldn’t bring myself to move until she did.

After she woke, we stayed close as we went about the morning, smiling slyly while we quietly made breakfast, stole kisses in the kitchen, and snuck outside to sip coffee on the patio.

By late morning, Stella had grown antsy and pounced on a still-sleeping Ted in total disregard for his tendency to wake up swinging, hungover or not.

I tried not to delve too deeply into what Stella would know of waking him in the morning; just thinking about it made me feel physically sick, especially after I’d woken up to her in the morning like coming out of a dream I didn’t want to end.

“I’m feeling lucky,” she announced. “Let’s go hunting.”

“You’re the worst, Stell,” Ted groaned, sitting up and stretching. “Did you wake me up just to punish me for getting so very trashed last night?”

“Nope. I woke you up to be my bitch. And you’re going to like it.”

I bit back a laugh.

Ted rubbed his eyes. “You know me so well. Sullivan, please tell me that you have ibuprofen. The Black Death has me dying.”

“I got you, man,” I said, holding out a coffee and a couple of pills.

Our days back at Monadnock had been a mix of hard-core academics, creative arts training, and clandestine partying, so I knew the routine.

No one threw a party better than Ted, and he paid the price for his dedication to a good time.

Whether it was somehow managing to get the motherlode from the New Hampshire state liquor store delivered in a trunk labeled Winter Clothes or fashioning a bong and filtering system out of any typical household item, Ted held that corner of the market on fun times.

He was wild, that’s for sure, but he also had this uncanny knack for figuring out what made a person tick and could use it to bring even the most reserved wallflower to life.

He’d done that for me when I arrived at Monadnock, depressed and defeated.

Ted became half cheerleader, half fun catalyst, the perfect antidote to my father’s raging disapproval.

This same special attention and energy made it impossible to stay mad at him, even if he had rerouted me last night with Stella.

Ted dragged himself off the couch and took the medicine with the coffee in a single gulp.

“Where are we headed, then, Boss Lady?”

She stabbed the map she’d been annotating during the trip with a finger. “Here.”

“Beautiful,” Ted said. “Sullivan, you’re driving. I am in no condition and Stella’s driving is too extreme for the fragile homeostasis my stomach is trying to maintain right now.”

I agreed. Ted took his place in the back of the van, and Stella punched the address into the navigation system.

The drive to the village of Skógar took several hours.

We stopped once for gas and another time for food.

Ted managed to keep his meal down and by late afternoon he was back to his normal self, amusing us with his wild stories and making up lyrics to sing along to the Icelandic music that played on the radio. His voice was just a tad off-key.

When we reached the parking lot for the Skógasafn Museum, the sun was nearly set; a few cars remained.

We did the tourist thing and scoped out Kvernufoss, wandering the paths, taking pictures of each other in the fading light.

I tried to keep my cool when the waning warmth of the gloaming transformed Stella’s beauty into something that felt miraculous deep in my chest. Finally, the last of the tourists departed and we headed back to the van to get our gear.

“Aren’t we near the other falls we searched?” I asked.

Stella nodded. “We passed it actually. It’s a few minutes back the way we came.”

“Do you have a good feeling about this one?” I asked Stella.

She eyed me for second. “I think maybe I do,” she said, and winked.

She turned on her headlamp just in time to see my ridiculous grin.

I opened my mouth to speak, to save myself from the dumb look on my face, but she was already in motion, racing toward the falls.

I knew she was fast, athletic, from the first outing, but somehow, I was still amazed by how nimbly she navigated the twisting path and odd rock jutting from the mossy ground as we neared the falls.

The treasure trove of embarrassing- moment stories she’d claimed at the restaurant last night struck me as entirely implausible now. Ted and I followed with the equipment.

“Is she always like this?” I asked him.

He looked up at her just as she leapt over a rock. “Exhausting?” he asked. I guess he was still a little sour from being awakened.

Wonderful , I thought. “So full of life?”

Ted snorted. “Seriously, dude? Keep it in your pants.”

“I didn’t say I wanted to sleep with her, just that she has a certain joie de vivre.”

“You’re never as insufferable as when you start speaking in French, Sully. And I didn’t black out last night. When I got home from my date, you fully had your tongue down her throat.”

I coughed. “That isn’t what—”

“You keep telling yourself that. Listen, bud, Stella is just Stella. More energy than she knows what to do with, doesn’t know when to quit, only thinks about one thing.”

I didn’t even bother with the typical response that his “only thinking about one thing” comment warranted. Because her single-mindedness was on full display and I was soaking it up. Ahead of us, she dragged one hand along the rocky face leading to the falls.

It was a simple thing. Not the way her hair shone in the moonlight, or the curved lines of her in the shadow.

Not her finding something or even looking back at me, even though I was desperate for it.

It was the way she ran her fingers over the stone, almost mindlessly, caught up in her own world. A totally ordinary moment.

I fell in love with her.