Exhaustion from the day's events hit me like a huge sack of flour, and my feet feel like they were dragging the rest of me to my room. As soon as the door swings open, my eyes latched onto the bathroom door. Too tired and weary to even contemplate the chore of undressing and re-dressing, I look away. The door slams close behind me, and my bag slides off my shoulder and plonks to the floor.

Although still messy from the morning, my bed lures me with promises of comfort and revitalization. Without bothering about the laces, I step out of my shoes and crawl into bed. A sigh escapes my lips as my head rests on the somewhat lumpy pillow. Within seconds, my eyes closed and a dreamless slumber welcomes me.

Only minutes later, a loud banging wakes me from my afternoon siesta. Groaning as I fling the covers, my eyes dart to the clock on the bedside table. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! I passed out for hours!

Panic engulfs me, and I scramble out of bed. Promptly, I find myself nuzzling the floor. If only my feet weren't entangled in the covers, I would kick myself. It truly has been a day full of clumsiness!

Another banging finds me rushing to the door. As I open it a crack, I drown in cheerful chocolate brown eyes.

"Was that the sound of you falling out of bed?" JT asks a playful smirk dancing on his lips.

My parents often commented on how easily I blush. And true to my nature, I feel my cheeks getting hot. I must look like a mess!

With apologetic eyes, I try justifying my tardiness and ask for a tiny extension to piece myself together.

"I'll wait in the lobby," JT says waving his hand and turning around. "Don't be too long," I hear him say over his shoulder as he turns the corner.

Turning from the door, my eyes scan the room. Now where in sweet damnation did I leave my bag?

As my toe stubs against the object of my search, my mind screams, found it!

I roll my eyes and bend down to rummage through my bag. Quickly grabbing a comb, lipstick, and eyeliner, I step into the bathroom. Instead of showering, I splash water on my face and clean my arms with a wet a washcloth. As my hands lift my shirt, I grimace at the scratches reflecting in the mirror. These will takes weeks to disappear. Oh well, I think and begin gently wiping them clean.

Combing out my hair, I frown at its determination to not fall neatly around my face. I quickly pull it in a neat pony and leave it at that. No time to fuss with it, I remind myself. I slap on a thin layer of eyeliner and whisper a quick thank you when it refuses to smudge. At least I got this much right. As I roll the lipstick over my lips, I focus on my next dilemma. What to wear?

Living out of a suitcase is no fun when one is not inclined towards washing clothes in a bucket. And admittedly, I have procrastinated ever since learning that the rest-house had no laundry service. I scrutinize all my shirts and occasionally sniff one to gauge its cleanliness. My nose registers many offensive smells, and I figure my clothes were probably dirty enough to warrant being burned. Deciding to go with a sweater over my current shirt, I pray JT doesn't notice. Tomorrow, I shall shop.

Clean or not, I slipped into my only other pair of jeans. That I couldn't do without. There was no hiding the mud and grass stains on the pair I had donned earlier that day. Satisfied that I looked more presentable, I pick up my bag, and make my way to the lobby.

"There she is," JT says as soon as he spots me. His eyes roam over me quickly, and for a split second, I feel conscious. "You clean up well." He says nodding his approval.

"So where are we off to?" I ask, smiling inside at the success of my clean-up attempt.

"I hope you like bonfires," he replies. His dimple plays hide and seek with every smile he throws my way, and I can't help but stare.

"Absolutely!" I reply flashing a grin.

He walks me to the grounds behind the rest-house, and I find it impossible to hide my confusion. "The bonfire is here?" I ask.

"Mhmm," he replies pointing at the group of people standing around the un-lit woodpile. "I invited some army buddies and their plus ones. I didn't think you'd feel up to a huge unfamiliar crowd."

He was right. When he first mentioned a bonfire, for some reason, I thought it'd be more exclusive. The prospect of meeting a whole group of new folks left me feeling rather sweaty on an otherwise cool night. As we near the crowd, I begin falling back. JT notices I'm no longer keeping pace with him and he turns to face me.

"What's wrong?" He asks. This time, confusion reflected on his face.

"No, I just..." And it started. Words began failing me as panic began rising. "I'm not..." I try again, and still, find myself unable to complete my sentence. My lips tremble as I search desperately for words. "Not exactly a people person," I rush out. My chest is heaving with the effort it takes to breathe, and I am sure I can feel sweat collecting on my brow.

"Really? You could have fooled me". He tries humor. The expression on my face must have given away how I was feeling, for a second later, his smile vanished. "Oh. You're serious?" He asks, realization hitting him.

I nod. My eyes nervously wander over the crowd. There are perhaps eight maybe ten people? They seem to be milling around the refreshment table now. With the darkness setting in and shadows falling, it's hard to be able to count.

"Well," he says looking into my eyes. "We're going to have to work on your social skills, Miss Gwen."

What! My mind gawks. Back home, Tom would have let me crawl back into my shell. Sure he'd drop me home and go back to the party. After all, why would he suffer for my inadequacies? But JT was actually suggesting, no he was insisting, that I join him.

"No, no. There shall be no excuses," JT says as my hands come up, and my mouth opens to pour out many practiced pretexts.

Closing my mouth promptly, I glare at him. He laughs when he sees me pursing my lips and staring down at him.

"Ah yes, the stiff-upper-lip treatment," he chuckles. "Nope, that won't work on me, missy. There will be no tantrums today." He grabs my hand and begins walking towards the crowd.

As I dig my heels in, a voice calls out. "JT! My man!"

"Too late now," JT says winking at me. "We've been spotted."

A short fella jogs up to us. He sports the same haircut as JT. As with all military men, he's impeccably dressed; his white shirt is creaseless, and his pants fall perfectly, folded neatly at the cuff. He completes his ensemble with black army boots. How predictable.

With a huge grin, JT shakes hands with the man and then turns to me for introductions. "Gwen, I'd like to introduce you to Aalam, one of my closest friends."

"Pleasure," Aalam says reaching out to shake my hand. His eyes are twinkling, and he's already nursing a drink of sorts in his left hand.

Unable to think of anything intelligent to say, I smile weakly and nod.

"A shy one! Don't worry. We'll fix you by the end of the evening," Aalam says patting me on the shoulder. He has one of those huge grins that allows the other person to count exactly how many teeth he has. Toothy, my mind thinks. His close proximity leaves me fidgety and uncomfortable, but he doesn't notice. As he and JT rattle off, my mind chews over Aalam's words, fix you. I didn't imagine that there was much to fix.

I sigh inwardly. I'm going on the defensive. First JT with his self-appointed role as fixer of my social skills, and now Aalam. Was I reading too much into a joke? Both men were probably just pulling my leg, I rationalize. But the feeling doesn't shake off that easily. I take this as a sign of how the evening is going to proceed. Several introductions were still to take place, and I was already beginning to feel like a bug under a microscope.

As the men turn to walk towards the group, I trudge along behind them. The sky and the play of little twinkling lights spread over the mountainside seem to captivate me more than the on-going conversation. At some point, I turn towards the rest-house behind me and look up at the window of my room. It would be so easy to slip away, I tell myself. To hide away for the evening in my room and not have to play exchange-a-handshake with all these new people.

I feel warm, calloused fingers slip into my palm, and I look up into dreamy chocolate eyes. "Don't even think about it," JT whispers in my ear. It's almost as if he read my mind. Wouldn't be too hard, I tell myself. I'm probably as predictable as any of these military men.

As we near the group, a sea of unfamiliar faces surround me. Everyone seems to be smiling and talking. But all my ears register is a static buzz. A combination of various flowery perfumes and musky aftershaves hits my nose. Somewhere in those smells, I can make out a hint or so of beer and vodka. The mix is heady and leaves me feeling dizzy. Introductions fly by, and I cannot keep names and faces straight.

My breathing becomes heavy again, and I can feel my palms reflecting my anxiety. A slow squeeze reminds me that JT is still holding my hand. I look at him, and he flashes a reassuring smile. His presence allows me to derive a tiny measure of strength.

A cheer goes up as the woodpile is lit. With people moving towards the bonfire or searching for something to eat and drink, JT and I find ourselves alone. The sudden space allows me to breathe easier. I relax and find myself sighing with the respite, glad to have this part of the evening done with.

"Ahh finally!" JT exclaims withdrawing his hand. He looks relieved for some reason. "I thought you'd squeeze the life out of my fingers," he jokes.

I hadn't noticed how tight my grip had been! As he inspects his fingers for damage, I find myself laughing at the comical look he's wearing.

His grin returns and I feel the world vanishing. "Would you like to sit?" he asks, and I nod. We begin walking and find an empty blanket laid out on the ground. I plonk down on it; my legs stretched out before me. I wriggle my toes inside my shoes as the heat from the bonfire seeps in through the soles.

"Drink?" JT asks still standing, and I nod again.

"Any preferences?" He prompts.

"Oh," I say. I didn't get a good look at the refreshments table. Other than the beer and vodka that I had smelt, I didn't know what was being served. "Ah, whatever you're having," I say.

"Be right back madam," he says pretending to bow, and I giggle at the theatrics.

I watch as JT makes his way through the crowd, often stopping to shake hands or exchange a few words with his friends. He makes it look so easy, I think.

Familiar catchy beats float through the air, and I search the crowd for the source. Two girls standing behind a table seem to be writing down requests, and I assume they're working on a playlist of sorts.

I close my eyes and soak up the lyrics.

You were my shepherd,

you were my guide,

I follow your dark eyes,

right into the night

"I didn't know you were a fan of Milk Inc."

I open my eyes and reach for the can JT offers me. Crossing my legs, I sit up straight. "I only know the one song. Not enough to be tagged as a fan."

"You know you were a little off tune right?" JT says smirking playfully.

I'm mortified. Was I actually singing out loud? He laughs at the horrified look on my face and sits down next to me. He nudges me with his elbow. "It's all right, even off tune, you have a great voice."

Now I'm laughing. No one had ever told me that I had a singing voice. He stares into the fire quietly and takes a sip, a smile still playing on his lips. I find myself content with watching the flames dance in silence as well.

A beer turns into two and then three. Pretty soon, we're sipping on our fourth. I feel lightheaded and happy; not quite as guarded as when the evening had first begun. At JT's encouragement, I had gone from exchanging shy smiles with people to a few words. Perhaps that was the turning point for me. His friends were chatty and outgoing, and as long as I participated, even by listening, they were content to let me be. I no longer needed fixing.

An empty plate sits on the blanket with us. At some point, it had tiny amounts of food on it, from spicy roasted chicken to garlicky mushrooms to a dry peanut salsa with all the toppings. As the night went on, the cold began setting in, and the once raging bonfire turned into a smoldering pile of coal and ash. Slowly people started leaving and pretty soon JT, and I were the only ones left.

He stands and dusts the bottom of his jeans. Extending a hand, he offers to help me up. I accept with a little smile, and he tugs me up with more strength than necessary. We're both a little off balance and stagger into each other with the effort. As we straighten up, I giggle, and he chuckles.

"Soo... that was a great evening," I say.

"Mhmm," he replies staring at the vast black expanse before us. "Isn't it beautiful?" he asks.

"Maybe..." I reply. But he doesn't really hear me. My eyes travel to where his were focused. At the end of the ground was a three-foot shrubbery fence. After that, there was nothing. A huge black void. In daylight, one would be able to see the gentle slope of the mountain behind the fence and the huge pine trees that littered the mountainside. Beyond that, in the horizon, there would be rows and rows of mountain tops, some dark and some covered in snow – with lazy clouds floating in between. In the early evening hours, that same mountainside had been covered in lights from houses. Now that everyone had presumably gone to sleep, the mountainside was dark. And quiet. I shiver and wonder why he thought the black void was beautiful, but I didn't dare ask.

The sky, however, was the complete opposite. I have never seen a sky so brightly lit with stars. Between the polluted London air, the looming skyscrapers and the brightly lit streets, stars were impossible to spot. Here, on top of this little mountain slope, the sky was breathtakingly beautiful. Every inch was covered in little twinkling lights. Never having developed an interest in astronomy, I didn't know the names of all the constellations.

Despite my ignorance, I could clearly see the three bright stars that made up Orion's belt. And I think I spotted the big dipper... or perhaps it was the little one? Oh, I was so hopeless at these things! The silence stretches out, and I'm scratching my head thinking of how to break it.

"About tomorrow..." I start.

"Mhmm," he replies still lost in his thoughts.

I pull at the sleeves of my sweater trying to hide my fingers from the cold. "The cleaning crew..." I prompt.

JT finally turns to look at me. "Right ... right that," he says finally coming down to earth. "They'll probably be at your property early. What time will you be in?" he asks.

"Not sure, what time do I need to be there by?" I question.

"Six be too early for you?"

"You mean a.m.?" I ask him surprised.

He laughs. "I believe so," he said.

I groan.

"I'll take that as a no," he says smiling at me.

"I ah... actually thought I'd do some shopping before I get to the house." That's the best excuse I could come up with. Well, it was partly true. I did need new clothes.

"Right.... shopping," he teases me.

"What... it's true!"

"Sure, Miss-sleep-a-lot!"

I glare at him, and he laughs some more. "Come let's tuck you into bed. I'm sure it's past your bedtime," he teases, and I feel like a little child.

We walk back to the front of the rest house in silence. As I enter the giant glass doors, he stays put.

"So this is goodnight," he mumbles, and I nod.

"Thank you for a great evening," I say.

His eyes light up, and he looks at me for a second. "You're not just saying that are you?" He questions and I shake my head. "I had fun," I replied wrapping my arms around me.

"Great!" He fumbles with the zipper of his jacket before continuing. "So then I'll be off." He says pointing at the road behind him. Another short awkward silence passes between us. I feel like there's something more he needs to say, and I give him the time to gather his thoughts.

"Oh and if you don't see me for a few days don't worry. I have some training stuff to complete."

I feel sad for a minute, almost abandoned. He must have noticed for JT quickly adds, "But you have my number. You can call if you need anything." That reminder brings a smile to my face.

"That I do."

"Good night," he says taking a step back as if to leave.

"Good night," I reply as I turn from the door and head towards the stairs.