"Who are you?" I immediately shoot, sitting up and gazing into the darkness. There is no point in playing oblivious. He already knows I've heard everything. "Are you from the military forces? What is your mission?"

   "Wasting no time, huh?" Deon sighs. "And, boy, you do have some courage. I've already seen that you're a person who faces challenges head on, and yet you continue to prove it. Let's calm down first and we'll talk."

   "Answer me," I insist, slightly flustered by the praise. "I'm no obstacle to your operation. What possibly could I do to get in the way? I'm blind, barely breathing and with second degree burns on half of my body. Not that there is anyone I can spill classified information to, even if I wanted. I am all alone in this world and entirely at your mercy. You can eliminate me right here and now, if you decide, and not a soul would look for me... I only want to know what I'm dealing with."

   "Heyy, what are you talking about?" He interrupts me gently, sitting next to me. I feel his warm palms cupping my face. "Why would you say shit like that? I know this all must seem crazy as hell to you, but when did I give you any impression I was going to hurt you? I am not a monster... Fuck! Don't worry, alright? You're safe. I swear."

   "I'm sorry," I mutter, unconsciously leaning into his hands for consolation, shame washing over me. "I'm not ungrateful. It's just... you're secretive... and the phone... and everything else. I wish so badly I could see your face right now."

   A severe blush heats my cheeks at the last sentence. The words slipped out of my mouth on their own. I didn't want to blurt this out loud. Deon's amused laughter only fuels my embarrassment. I am an idiot. This is what happens when you refuse to live among your own kind and prefer to roam the wasteland alone instead. Total lack of social skills.

   "Chris." Deon is laughing quietly while his thumbs are rubbing soothingly along the outlines of my jaw. "You're cute."

   The statement only makes me blush harder. What the hell? I must look like shit. That's how I feel at least. I find absolutely nothing cute about my skinny, scruffy, haggard self and this is the first time I am actually bothered by the fact. There is a warm, sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach which almost makes me sick. My hands start shaking. I instinctively clench my fists to make them stop. It feels like fever. I gasp for air. The only time I've ever felt this way was when the boy next door invited me to the pool party for his birthday. We were nine. It was a few months before The Impact. He told me he liked how I looked in a swimsuit and that I had nice abs. I almost drowned that day and it wasn't because I didn't know how to swim. But I am not a child anymore and this definitely can't be flirting. The man probably pities me and is simply trying to make me feel better. 

   "Listen," Deon says amiably, taking my hands in his. "I don't want you to be on the lookout all the time. Stop freaking out. I can't tell you everything. You won't understand it. Not yet. But I'll give you all the information I can. It has to be enough for now, ok?"

   I nod in agreement, still dazed and embarrassed, but a bit calmer. I am not used to be touched. Strangely, despite my suspiciousness, Deon's closeness seems to steady my nerves.

   "I'm not from the military forces, but I collaborate with them," he starts. "I experiment with a new technology which can eventually decontaminate soil and change everything in the course of time. We are on an early stage. I have only a greenhouse for now and several fields, situated on different locations in the valley. The army is guarding a wide area, keeping the ORDs away, so that I can work undisturbed. They supply me with everything I need, but also demand for quick results. The person who called was the general in charge of the project. He is an ass, but I get his motives. Food is running out on a global scale. Some animal species have adapted to the new conditions. Toxins have integrated into their system and they can digest anything edible they find. They seem to be in accelerated evolution mode. Unfortunately, it doesn't apply to humans. We need quick solutions to prevent extinction."

   "I understand," I mumble. "Sorry for doubting you and causing more trouble than you already have."

   "There's nothing to apologize for," Deon squeezes my hands which are still comfortably resting in his. "You have every right to be here. This is your house. I'm glad you came."

   "I can help you when I get better," I offer eagerly. "I won't be a burden. I'll do anything you tell me. It would be great to be a part of this project. Saving the world is something worth fighting for."

   "Cool off, Chris," Deon pats my knee. "let's heal you first. And be careful what you ask for. There's too much digging, plowing and sowing involved in this for it to be fun."

   "Sounds great," I smile sheepishly. "Yeah, you're right. That dragon surely ruffled my feathers pretty good. I only wonder why it didn't kill me. How come you didn't see it? It was huge, dwarfing the oak trees. And that dreadful hiss. You can't have missed it...."

   I hear a snort, followed by another ripple of soft laughter.

   "Did you just roll your eyes," I squeal. "I know you did. Don't make fun of me. I saw what I saw."

   "Yeah," he quips. "And the soldiers with all the surveillance equipment didn't. They must have been asleep. Don't you think the General would've mentioned it, if a SUP had crept nearby?"

   "You can mock me as much as you want, but... Wait!" I breathe out startled. He lifts my hands and places my open palms on his cheeks. "What are you doing?"

   "It's not the same as actually seeing me," Deon says. "But you can still get some idea of what I look like by touching. I'm not a cover model, but it's not that bad either. I don't think I'll scare you off... at least I hope so. Go on!"

   The shaking of my hands is back in full force. I bite my lip in an attempt to control it. That's too many touches in one day for me to be relaxed, but I can't miss the opportunity. The curiosity is stronger than the nervous tension.

   "Breathe, Chris. Just breathe and touch," Deon utters quietly. "It's ok. You need reassurance. Knowing my face will give you more comfort. We can be friends. I am a friend. You only need to accept it."

   I take a deep breath. My heart is racing. He is right. I need this or the uncertainty will bring out the worst in me. I can do it. My fingers are stiff, as if frozen. Maybe, that's why the warmth, radiating from his smooth skin feels like fire beneath them. I wait for the sensation to become more familiar and help me shake off my numbness. Then I move my hands up, tracing his high cheekbones. They are well defined, perfectly proportioned and hint at a certain sublimity in his features. I slide my fingertips further until they reach the edge of spectacle frames.

   "You wear glasses," I exclaim in surprise. 

   "Ugh...yes. I don't see that well with these eyes," he mumbles. "You don't like glasses?"

   "No! Nooo! I like glasses. Of course, I do. Yes, I love it when people wear glasses... What do you mean you don't see well with these eyes? You really use awkward expressions sometimes," I chuckle. "You don't have another pair, do you?"

   "I'm just teasing you," he smiles. "I can be funny, right? It's great to see you cheered up."

   I suddenly feel an overwhelming urge to touch his lips. Maybe, it is not a good idea, but how could one get an accurate picture of someone's face without knowing the shape of their mouth. I can't stop anyway, so I gather my courage and slip one palm under his chin and the other over his jaw. He has five-day stubble. I wonder what color it is. It's soft and pleasant to the touch, tempting me to explore more. I run my fingertips over his bottom lip first and then over the top one, following its perfect Cupid's bow. His lips are full and firm. His hot breath makes my skin tingle. This man must be really handsome. I don't need to be able to see to be sure of it. I pull my hands away, embarrassed by the unexpected course of my actions and thoughts. I don't want to make the situation more awkward than it already is.

   Deon clears his throat, a bit anxiously. It seems I made him feel uncomfortable. Did I cross a line? I should have stopped. 

   "I'm sorry," I barely whisper. "I..."

   "No," he instantly stops me. "I should be the one apologizing. I lived alone for too long. Your touch affected me more than I expected. It was nice. You have gentle hands. Umm... I hope you're not disappointed by what you discovered."

   "Oh, no, on the contrary," I shake my head. I am still tense, so I try to ease my self-consciousness with a clumsy joke. "Well, maybe a little. It seems you're much better looking than me. I can't say it makes me happy. I was convinced I was the handsome one."

    We both laugh. I feel brave enough to ask one more question. "What color are your eyes?"

   "Blue," Deon answers.

Photo 36763948 © Andrey Kiselev | Dreamstime.com

Photo 32608394 © Andrey Kiselev | Dreamstime.com

A/N

Hello at the end of chapter 6!

Thank you for reading and supporting! ❤❤❤

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