Chapter Three
Michael
I kick up a flurry of crisp white sand. Han smiles. She’s beautiful. Wild dirty-blonde hair, blue-green eyes, well-defined cheekbones. No scars, unlike me. The scar doesn’t usually bother me, unless she is staring at it. It’s not even midday, and Han looks exhausted.
“Want to get on my back?” I ask, crouching down.
She gives me a questioning look.
“You look like you’re about to fall asleep standing,” I say.
She climbs onto my back. Surprisingly she’s not that heavy. Soon, I hear her slow breaths. She is asleep. I walk on, though her weight slows me down a bit. It is late noon now. The sun is about to begin to set. I walk on, my footsteps heavy. Han is awake now. She slides off my back and walks beside me.
“I’m sorry I flipped out on you this morning. I’m just stressed,” she says.
“It was dumb of me to not take your place,” I say.
Han gives me a sort of half-smile.
“It’s okay. In the end, we didn’t die,” Han says forgivingly.
The sun is setting.
“We should find a place to rest,” I say.
Han nods. She fails at stifling a yawn.
“I’ll guard,” I offer.
Han is too tired to even protest. I set up the tarp, and she lies down.
Morning. The sun glares into my eyes. Han is putting away the tarp. I groan and sit up.
“Morning, sleeping beauty!” she says with an energetic smile. Her hair is soaking wet. She must’ve washed it. Beads on her bracelet catch the sunlight. I haven’t noticed the bracelet before. How come? She must not wear it often. Or I’m just ignorant.
Am I ignorant? I think.
“Did I say that out loud?” I ask.
Han gives me a strange look.
“No…?” she says slowly.
I smile nervously.
“Are you okay?” Han says.
I blush, hard. What has come over me?
“Let’s get going,” I reply, changing the subject.
I take a packet of mint leaves from my pack and begin to chew a few. Han does the same.
“Where’d you find a spring to wash your hair?” I ask.
Han points me in the direction, and I head off to wash. When I return, Han has cleaned up and is sitting on the sand. I shake the water out of my hair, splattering water droplets all over her. She laughs and playfully shoves me. When she gets up, we trip over each other and she lands on top of me. Our faces are maybe an inch apart. Her breath smells like mint.
Realistic Fiction