Amber Eyes (18 page)

“Wait, Daniel. Where the hell you going?” Edward called. “I want you to take care of breakfast.”

Daniel kept walking but turned his head back. He chewed his lips, which immediately turned pulpy and reddish. “To visit the loo, can’t I? Or do you want me to do it in front of everybody, dude? Wanna see how big my thing is?” As he talked, Daniel raised his upper lip and took a hand to his
thing,
holding it over the tight briefs— compared to Yago’s bulky thing under his red bikini that night, Daniel’s bundle looked like a toy one.

Edward extended his arm and snapped his fingers at Daniel several times. “Speed it up! And put some jeans on, you look pathetic. You’re the cook this morning. I want breakfast ready at half past seven. Ham and eggs… and hot coffee. Make sure you wash your hands first. I don’t want your germs all over our food.”

Daniel stopped in his tracks and spun to face Edward as his jaw dropped and his eyes went wild. He pointed a finger right to the middle of his chest. “I’m the cook? That’s not fair! You always press me too hard, dude. I made breakfast yesterday.”

Would there ever be a day when Daniel wouldn’t complain?

Edward rolled his eyes. “Yesterday we weren’t even here yet. Don’t try to be a smartass. But I’ll be fair. Justin will help you fix breakfast.”

“Justin? That loser? Thanks a lot, dude!”

# # #

While Daniel paid his visit to the latrine, I went back inside the tent and changed into clean clothes, taking advantage of my little private moment. The second pair of sneakers I’d brought fit me better, but still not perfectly well—the promise of another day of aching, shrinking feet made me wonder if my feet would survive this outing.

Daniel put on jeans and sneakers—still no socks—and went right to Edward to complain about having me as his cooking partner, but Edward raised an open palm in front of him. “Talk to the hand.”

Daniel snorted. He cursed under his breath and strode toward the fire pit around where we’d gathered, sang, and cooked last night. I darted and stood in front of him. “Tell me what to do, Daniel.”

He didn’t answer but shoved me away.

Only a dead heap of white ashes and coal remained of last night’s campfire. Beside it, somebody had already piled a good amount of firewood. Daniel stopped in his tracks by the firewood and tucked his russet curls behind his ears with an affected gesture. He stooped, scooping up the bundle of firewood in his arms—his face turned red and the veins on this forehead popped with the effort. I rushed over and extended my arms. “Let me help you. Gimmie some.”

He didn’t. Instead, he invaded my personal space until his face was a few inches away of mine. He stood so close that when he spoke, I could smell his morning breath. “Here’s the firewood, dude. Stop making a fool of yourself and light up the fire. I’ll pick out the stuff we need for breakfast.”

Daniel released the bundle and all the firewood dropped in a rain of heavy logs. I sprung backwards so they wouldn’t crush my feet. “Hey!”

Daniel tucked his curls once more behind his ears and cast a sideways glance at Edward who was busy. He hadn’t witnessed the incident. Daniel gazed back at me with a smirk. “Be careful with the firewood, dude. It’s heavy. Could break your foot.”

I glared at him and ground my teeth. “I will.”

I actually wanted to slap him on the face, but it would have been too girly. A true guy would have punched him in the stomach, but I had no idea how to do it. Besides, I didn’t know how I’d explain to Edward why I’d suddenly hit Daniel.

Daniel sniggered and then walked to the little, third tent. It warehoused all the boxes of supplies and the cooler where the dairies and the perishables were locked. He kneeled and stuck half of his body inside.

“Hey, Daniel, wait! How do I do it?”

His voice came muffled from inside the tent. “Do what?”

“The fire. How do I light the fire? Got any matches?”

“You don’t need any matches, dude. Don’t you know how to light a campfire?”

“Of course not! I’m not a Boy Scout.”

“Then why did you come? Besides, everybody knows how to light a campfire. Don’t be such a dumbass, dude. They even do it on TV.”

Somebody placed a hand on my shoulder and I cringed. I was Edward. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach. Standing so close to him, I could smell his strong aroma. He oozed a sweaty tang he’d tried to conceal again with lime cologne, or maybe with antiperspirant. Both odors blended into a scent that flooded my nostrils. I found it oh-so appealing it brought out a certain and reckless animal instinct inside me. My skin tingled, and the memory of both of us endlessly shaking hands on Grandma’s street caused the butterflies in my stomach to flutter even faster. This crazy idea of holding Edward’s hand again came to my mind. Of course, I wouldn’t do it.

Last night’s memories assailed my mind and I recalled how I’d gotten carried away in that lavish bathroom. The freakin’ awesome sensations I’d experienced made me crave for a real make-out session with Edward. While I relished the idea, it sorta felt like I was betraying Jenny.

“You don’t need matches.” Edward released my shoulder and kneeled by the campfire. “You only need to blow. C’mon. I’ll show you how to do it.”

His aroma had completely disrupted my thinking process. I knelt beside him only because he’d commanded it, not conscious of the reason why. I rubbed the back of my neck and looked from the heap of white ashes to Edward. The rest of the world had disappeared, and I would continue to be oblivious to it as long as I kept breathing his arresting aroma.

Edward pointed at the heap of ashes. “See those white ashes? Gimmie your hand.”

Give him my hand? Had I heard right? Did he actually want to
take my hand
? The words sounded like heavenly music in my ears. Before I could react, Edward grabbed my hand. I couldn’t help but shiver when warmth traveled from his body to mine. The butterflies in my stomach went wild. Holding my hand, he passed my open palm a couple of inches over the ashes. I even felt him softly squeezing my hand, but then I wildly dismissed the thought. My body was playing with my mind. Probably for the too small shoes, maybe for sleeping in stinky, muddy clothes, but most likely because of that whirlpool of desire I’d awakened inside me last night.

“Can you feel it?” he asked. His tone sounded matter-of-fact, but he must have been a little thrilled because his hand trembled barely beyond perception while he held mine, both our hands hovering about an inch over the pile of ashes. I wondered if he’d meant the current that flowed between us, the warmth he kept conveying through his hand. Could he feel my warmth streaming in the opposite direction?

No. He couldn’t mean that, not if Daniel stood within earshot. So, if he was not talking about his exhilarating touch, I couldn’t figure out what he wanted me to feel. Besides, I couldn’t concentrate with my hand in his and breathing his primeval, sweaty, lime-like aroma.

“Feel? What?”

Edward squeezed my hand a little. “Can’t you feel it?”

Then I realized he meant the ashes. The ashes irradiated heat and he wanted to know if I could feel the heat. My voice sounded stupidly surprised when I answered. “The ashes are warm.”

“Bingo, Justin. You need three things to light a fire: heat, fuel, and oxygen.” Edward raised a finger with each item. “The firewood is your fuel and there’s heat left from yesterday’s fire as you have verified. So we only need to blow oxygen on it and we’ll have the fire back.”

His explanation just turned interesting. Still daydreaming, but a bit more focused on his comments, I tilted my head sideways. “How do you blow oxygen? From a tank?”

Edward chuckled. “No. Watch the expert.” He released my hand, kneeled by the fire pit, and stooped with his cheek almost touching the ground, his face turned towards the fire pit.

When he released my hand, I felt disappointed because I knew I wouldn’t have another opportunity to hold his. Guys don’t hold hands, and he’d only taken mine to show me that the pit was still warm. I think I sighed.

Edward gently blew the ashes and a cloud of whitish dust rose. All of a sudden, I found myself inside a mist where I couldn’t breathe but cough. I tilted my body backwards and waved a hand in front of me, attempting to dissipate the cloud. Edward blew again and another puff of ashes went airborne. I couldn’t bear it anymore and jumped to my feet. I backed off two steps. The third time Edward blew, a crowded mesh of red freckles materialized on the heap of ashes and coal. Even some little flames.

Edward looked at me and raised an eyebrow. A cocky smile spread on his face. “See? Campfires are like girls. You need to be tender but firm, and they’ll fall in love with you immediately.”

He laughed, but I frowned. Was he thinking we girls were cattle?

Edward blew again and more flames appeared dancing on the coal as if by magic. It hit me what he’d done and I found his trick clever. Blowing oxygen tenderly but steadily—firmly—had accomplished the task. He had a point. With hindsight, I noticed he’d been tender but firm with me since we’d first met, so I’d fallen for him… somehow. Crafty. At first, I rebelled against the idea, feeling like he was trying to steal me from Jenny. On second thought, I thought this behavior was so normal for him he might have been carrying it out without even noticing it—like flirting with the ticket girl at the Greyhound station without a real interest in her. On third thought, I discovered I enjoyed being the object of this tender-but-firm, unconscious, attention. Then I recalled I’d been pretending to be a boy so it was totally impossible Edward had paid me attention, even unconsciously. My heart shrunk. He’d only been a good Boy Scout helping a fellow in distress.

Edward got to his feel and stood beside me. “See? Now you try, Justin.”

It should have been the easiest thing in the world. I stooped just as Edward had done with my face to the ground facing the fire pit, and I blew. The small flames died. Pathetic. Edward had said tenderly and I’d blown harder than the Big Bad Wolf.

“Too much!” Edward laughed. “It’s not a birthday cake. The air you’re blowing contains oxygen but it’s also cold. Remember, we need oxygen
and heat
. Tender but firm.”

Edward knelt and I got to my feet to leave him the stage. He blew again softly, holding it for almost a full minute. The flames reappeared. Edward stood up beside me. He extended his open palm, giving me the fireplace. “Your turn again, Justin.”

I frowned. This time I had to do it the right way. I couldn’t blow such a simple task. I knelt, stared for some seconds at the fireplace and at the dancing, little flames, and blew. Once more, I blew too hard, or in the wrong way, or maybe too gently because I killed the flames. I look up at Edward, wondering what I’d done wrong. He winked and made a stupidly wide smile, from ear to ear and motioned his hands as if making some invisible thing flow.

Okay, okay, I’d try again. Point taken. Besides, I wouldn’t allow Daniel to call me a loser because I couldn’t start a fire. I turned back, facing the fire pit, raised the sunglasses a bit, and glared at it not angrily but intently. I blew for a third time being so very careful, pumping a gentle and steady flow, not of air, but of my own breath—I fed the fire with life, not with plain air. The ashes and coal crackled. Large flames appeared and the wave of heat made me sat up from my stooping position and tilt backwards.

“Well done, Justin!” In his excitement, Edward dropped to his knees beside me and passed an arm over my shoulders, softly squeezing my body. I clapped like a kid and my chest expanded. Delight welled up inside me and I felt powerful, capable of ruling the world if I tried hard enough.

A large grin drew itself on my face and I breathed in, full of pride. I’d just stopped being a loser despite whatever Daniel or anybody else had said. Edward squeezed me again and it felt like electricity flowing through my bod. In my burst of happiness, I hugged him. “I did it!”

Edward hugged me back. His aroma flooded my nostrils once more, transforming into fuel feeding intense passion in my body. I hugged him harder.

Somebody coughed. We parted as if somebody had pushed a button activating a spring between us. Daniel stood outside the supplies tent. He glared at Edward and me, pursing his lips. In one hand, he held a basket full of eggs and an orange juice jug, in the other two large pans. “What the hell are you guys doing?”

Edward rose to his feet. He flushed, but managed to keep his matter-of-fact tone. “Don’t be a girl and stop fussing, Daniel. When you ask somebody to do something, first check if he knows how to do it. Justin had no clue how to light the campfire. But he just happened to be a very fast learner.” He turned to me, keeping on his business-like tone. “Now, Justin, just keep blowing. Put on more firewood as the fire catches up and keep blowing. Remember: tender but firm, just like with a sexy girl.” He winked at me.

Daniel dropped his stuff on the ground and unscrewed the cap of one of the large water jerry cans.

“What are you doing?” Edward asked him.

Daniel raised his upper lip. “I’m gonna wash my hands. You specifically asked me to do so, don’t you remember, dude?”

“Not with that water, Daniel. That’s drinking water. It needs to last 4 more days. There’s an empty jug inside the tent. Go and fill it.”

Daniel pointed a finger to the middle of his chest. “Me?”

“Yes, you.”

Daniel put his arms akimbo and shook his head—his red curls drifted around him for a second. “And where the hell do you think I’m gonna find clean water in this damned forest, dude? The water from the fountains is not exactly suitable for washing anything. How about filling it in the lake?”

Edward scratched his head. “Go to the gatekeeper’s, it’s closer than the lake. He must have tap water. Justin, go with him. I’ll take care of breakfast.”

“To the gatekeeper’s? That’s miles away, dude, I’ll go the lake.”

“Daniel, just do what I say.”

Daniel snorted. He strode back to the supplies tent, stuck half of his body in it— his butt protruded out like a rocket launcher—and pulled out a one gallon, empty water jug. I was still kneeling by the campfire, stupidly staring from Daniel to Edward. Daniel approached and kicked me. “Get up, loser! We need to get the stupid water.”