Page 5 of Hide and Keep

“Are you going to say something or just watch me all night?”

I scan the area, searching for who he’s talking to, but find no one.

Me? Does he mean me?

My chest locking up, I work to control my breathing but it’s coming out of me in fitful spurts.

After a tense moment, he turns his head, giving me his profile, and says, “Your breath gave you away.” Pulling down his mask, his lips form an O to blow out a cloud of steam.

I knew it’d be cold out here, but a coat doesn’t go with this costume. Teeming with adrenaline, curiosity, and anticipation since I left my house, the temperature hasn’t registered once. And I’m in a minidress and thigh-high boots.

No, what has my entire body feeling absolutely electric with goose bumps are his full lips. They look downright pillowy, more so from being pursed.

I remain quiet, still unconvinced he’s talking to me.

Replacing his mask, he finally looks at my exact spot, his eyes piercing mine through the darkness.

I’ve been caught.

Without breaking eye contact, his expression turns expectant, but I hesitate, unsure what to do. Do I run and take my chances being caught by somebody else? Do I wait until he seizes me?

Does he want to?

A loud crash behind me solidifies my decision as I rush forward, spilling out from the stalks and into muscular yet gentle arms.

“Do you want to be kept?” he asks, his gaze penetrating.

I shake my head without hesitation.

With a nod, he guides me behind him as he faces the oncoming noise.

He’s really tall, at least a foot taller than I am, so he easily blocks my entire body with his.

I hear him mumble a few words to whoever just pushed through after me. As soon as that person leaves, another takes his place, then another, an entire line of guys filing out from my previous hiding spot. I would’ve been found—and kept—a half dozen times by now.

I focus on my savior’s shoulder blades at my eye level. Beneath the tight black fabric, they move and flex as he gestures the group away from us.

One of his gloved hands reaches back to me, grabbing my hemline to pull me closer, out of view. My body obeys with hardly any coaxing at all, my forehead fitting between those shoulder blades. I rest my face there, releasing a full, contented exhale.

His hand doesn’t release my dress, the chilled fingertips awakening the skin underneath the fabric as they graze my thigh.

Warm breath pours in and out of my mouth, making a damp spot on his shirt.

Safe. That’s what I feel in this moment.

When was the last time I felt safe?

Have I ever?

I became a cheerleader soon after learning to walk, a flyer in preschool. I was being thrown into the air with only one to six hands below to catch me before I could recite the alphabet. My body’s in constant danger.

As for my sanity… Being a Munreaux feels just as perilous these days. Impossible expectations. No real safety net. And through it all, a smile plastered on my face because we at Munreaux Motorcycles know it’s presentation that truly makes the sale.

Tears cloud my vision, so I close my eyes before any can fall and ruin my expertly applied makeup, instead choosing to focus on the scent of this newfound safe haven. Salt water and some sort of tree. Fresh. Outdoors. Amazing.

The line of guys finally ends, but neither of us makes a single move. We just remain locked together in this unconventional pose. Unconventional to humans. Monarch butterflies stay embraced for up to sixteen hours when they mate.

Not that we’re mating but… This somehow feels more intimate than mating. More meaningful, at least to me. I’ve always envied monarchs for that ritual. Now I kind of pity them. After feeling this for myself, sixteen hours doesn’t seem long enough.

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