I went back again.
I couldn’t help myself. Every step I took down the narrow path toward the stream felt reckless, dangerous, yet I didn’t stop. The forest at night was quiet except for the crunch of leaves under my feet and the soft calls of crickets. The moon was full, glowing so bright it lit the woods in silver.
When I reached the stream, I hid in the bush again, crouching low, waiting for him. My heart pounded as I peered out between the leaves, hoping to catch even a glimpse of him.
But he didn’t appear.
Minutes turned to hours. My legs cramped from crouching, and my body felt hot and sticky under my clothes. Sweat trickled down my back, and frustration burned in my chest. He wasn’t coming—or maybe he didn’t want to.
I sighed softly and pushed away from the bush. If he wasn’t co
