Today, Church was even more fun than it's required to be. I always love going because I get to be among warm people coming together for a common goal and enjoying each other's company while they're doing it. 

Starting the week without going to church the day before always feels like I'm starting the day without brushing my teeth. 

Well, there are the odd sour prune and hypocrite in there as well, but they just make the others shine more brightly in contrast and teach us all about tolerance and patience; besides, we go there to support each other, have a chat with God and hear what's on His heart, not to argue about nonsense.

We argue about nonsense when we're playing human ten-pin bowling or action chess or have wheely bin races... but those arguments usually only involve my friends, and they're not prunes or hypocrites... so that probably doesn't count...

Most of my friends were there this morning, and so was my family, which is always a plus. I'm content when all the people I love are near me. Jet seldom goes, though; he often says stuff like his life is too messed up to be welcome there. He doesn't get that it is the perfect place for messed up people to gather and become loved and un-messed up.

I held Kicks' hand for almost the entire service. I think she would've taken up Deli's nasty habit of pinching me if I didn't keep her fingers trapped with mine. It was so awesome! 

Our parents saw it!

My mom was smiling sweetly, and I could see that she was thrilled about it. Uncle Joe pretended not to see, but he kept pushing his glasses around the way he often does when he is trying to digest something weird I've said.

It's all good. I know he appreciates me being open about how I feel about his daughter. If I'm holding her hand in front of him, I'm less likely to pinch the cat in the dark behind his back... He said something like that last night when I asked him if it would upset him if I did stuff like holding Kira's hand and hugging her and so on... 

No, it made no sense to me either... 

Seeing it, my dad just gave me a look, and I swear it contained a 2345-word speech, all the lines ending with the words: "I'm watching you, Boy!" Yeah, as if I would pinch the cat where he can watch me.

Wait! Pinch the cat? Why the hell would anybody want to pinch a cat?! Shouldn't it be cuddle the cat? After all, I want to cuddle Kicks, not pinch her, so...

Well, I got to hold Kira's hand for hours and hours - something like 45 minutes - and after a few of those minutes, she finally relaxed into it and stopped trying to un-hold mine. I can almost forgive her for sitting on the opposite side of the Earth to me while we were having lunch at our dining table after Church. Next time, I'm not letting her get away with that.

The Crofts always have Sunday lunch with us. Mom and the girls cook, and Dad does the meat. It's the only thing he can make; he is seriously good at it. Uncle Joe and I set the table and do the general clean-up since neither of us is much good at cooking, and I've been told that I'm a menace in the kitchen. Uncle Joe makes really good scrambled eggs, though.

I love Sunday lunch! 

After Church, I helped Uncle Joe make all the lizard-friendly openings in Kira's section of the garage less inviting for a little cat hell-bent on wreaking havoc. I believe that Kicks' ecosystems and ant farm are now safe from furry invaders. I hope... Scamp is a crafty little fellow.

Kira is sitting in the kitchen having coffee with my mom and Deli when I run down the stairs, carrying two motorcycle helmets. I changed my clothes, figuring that my mom would not be happy if I went to the mudflats dressed in the decent jeans and shirt I wore to church. Kira also no longer wears the long skirt and pretty floral top she wore this morning, looking pretty enough to take my breath away. She changed into shorts and a T-shirt she's owned for forever to go mud-hunting with me.

I always laugh when I see her in that shirt now because it has a washed-up-looking Barbie fairy on the front, waving her wand with a cheeky grin. Kinda like she's lived a life of drunken debauchery and now, in old age, is still trying to look cool.

It's really cute. I got my mom to buy it for Kicks as a joke a couple of years ago and thought she would growl at me and tell me that she's not a little girl who wants to wear Glitter Barbie on her chest, but for some reason, Kira loved it. She wears it almost as often as her roaring turtle one, which is why it became a bit stretched and washed out. Most of the glitter is gone.

Delia winks at me when she sees me at the door. She is really enjoying this new adventure Kira and I have embarked on... sometimes a little too much. She is being super supportive, though, which is great. I was worried that Kicks would invite her along today, which would turn it into one of our normal kind of outings where Kira and I were not together. I love Deli but don't want this to be a normal outing.

Delia assured me that she would make sure to have plans with Simon this afternoon that will not involve mud... or me and Kira.

"Ready, Kicks?" I ask, wincing when she glares at me. What did I do?! I'm pretty sure I wasn't thinking out loud about how much I wish my lips were the rim of that coffee mug she is sipping from... or any of the other fantasies flooding my brain when I saw her sitting at the table with the sunlight spilling through the window, painting her hair with fiery sparks.

The smirky look on Deli's and my mom's faces gives me a few ideas about why Kicks would be glaring at me, so I pass that glare on to the two of them, and they just laugh. What have they been up to? I don't resist when Kira says goodbye to Mom and Deli, loops the strap of her satchel crossways over her shoulder, grabs my arm and drags me to the door.

"Where are you going?" I ask when she drops my arm and marches towards the gate, and, stopping, she turns to give me a questioning look. I see her eyes grow wide when she notices the two helmets I'm carrying. I put one on the seat of my motorcycle, parked and ready near the back door and pull the other one onto my head.

"No way!" she exclaims, backing away towards the gate. Kicks doesn't like riding on my bike. I've given her many lifts through the years, and afterwards, she always said weird things about wishing her legs were shaking less so she could kneel down and kiss the ground. I don't know what she's on about; I drive extremely carefully when I have a passenger... especially when it's her.

Deli loves catching rides with me, she doesn't throw her hands in the air, scream at me to go faster or whoop the way Wendy does, but she doesn't cling to me like she's trying to become part of me the way Kira does, either. Actually, that is part of the appeal of giving Kicks a ride. It's like being hugged really tightly from behind. Though that is a great incentive to give her rides, it is not why I'm opting for the bike today.

The area near the mud flats doesn't have much in the line of parking; I usually ride my bike right down to the beach or walk there from home. We never go by car, it is too much of a hassle and the street taking us there doesn't have a shoulder, it would be extremely dangerous to park the car there. The closest safe parking spot is quite a walk away from where we'll be going.

The bike is the best option.

"Way," I say, taking Kira's wrist and drawing her towards me. "Come on; the tide is going to start coming in; walking there takes ages. We could miss..." - this is not even the weirdest thing I've said today - "your mud."

She knows it's true. The window for exploring the beach right now is narrow; once the tide comes in, we could get trapped in the middle of high water, cut off from the beach. It happens faster than one realises. We've been called out to help get people to safety more times than I can count.

"I'm not riding on that thing with you," Kira groans, and I'm a little offended. My bike is not a thing... well, it is... but it isn't... I love my bike. I had to do so many tasks, in and around our house, to convince my dad that I was worthy. 

Mom wasn't impressed, she asked me: "Worthy of what? Breaking your neck." She eventually gave in because just letting me get my hands on a tea tray could end with me breaking a body part or two, and she could not cover me in bubble wrap or keep me in a cupboard forever. 

Dad nixed those options...

"I'll drive very safely, I promise," I grin, trying to soothe her, but she is having none of it, folding her arms over her chest causing Fairy Barbie to frown in solidarity with her.

"You guys are always sharing stories about your epic falls," she reminds me. "I'm not interested in falling epically or mundanely... I'm not interested in falling at all."

Shaking my head, I laugh and, taking the other helmet from the seat, I fasten it on Kira's head. She is not wrong; we do seem to try to out-fall each other all the time. Oddly enough, we're not doing it on purpose; it just happens. 

"That's when we're doing hurdles and tricks and weird things. I'll never do stuff like that when I'm giving you a lift. I promise. There will be no falling."

"Accidents happen," she mutters, and I realise that she is really scared. The guys and I have all had an accident or two in the past. Barn had to spend a couple of days in the hospital once, scaring all of us into behaving like sane people for a few weeks. He fully recovered, and unfortunately, so did the rest of us. 

"I know, but I'll be very careful and stick to good roads, I promise," I assure her, giving her a gentle smile. "We'll be there in less than five minutes if we take the bike. It takes at least 17 if we're walking."

I slide onto the motorcycle seat and cock my head, beckoning for her to get on behind me, and with a deep sigh, as if it's the hardest thing she's ever had to do, Kira finally gets on behind me. She wraps her arms around my waist, and suddenly, I'm not so sure about this anymore. I've often given her lifts in the past, but I don't remember it ever feeling this profound before, the responsibility sitting heavily on my shoulders, feet and all.

Starting the bike, I carefully drive to the gate, use my remote to open it, and when we hit the road, I accelerate just enough to have a safe journey to the flats. I can feel the shift in Kira's mood when we leave our street; instead of tensing up, she relaxes against my back, resting her head against my shoulder blades.

I hope she doesn't realise that my heart is beating so fast now I might actually pass out and cause us to crash.

The drive to the mud flats is short, heading out of town, off the main road and into the wilderness. It is a beautiful route with the sea visible to our right and hills covered in palm trees and banana plantations to our left. The wind playing in my neck is stirring the hot air, cooling me down. I'm enjoying this trip more than any other one I've had before, feeling Kick's heart beating against my back.

Slowing down, I take the dirt road leading down to the beach, where I park at the edge of the vast stretch of glistening mud. We dismount and kick off our shoes to start our... whatever it is we're doing here. When we reach the end of dry land, Kira takes her phone from her satchel and drops the bag.

Walking over the squishy mud feels good. In some areas, it feels like we're skimming over the ground, our footprints swallowed and smoothed by thin layers of water; in others, we sink ankle-deep.

I'm not sure how I feel about this raw-nature area. Sometimes I come here to think and get all the loose thoughts milling about in my head to clear away, but at other times when I come here, I just feel lonely and isolated. I usually leave when I start getting depressed.

I like coming here with the guys to throw mud at each other and skimboard in the shallows.

"Look," Kicks says, pointing out an expanse of patterned mud, looking like the ripples of wind on the surface of water. She stops and squats to take a picture along the surface. I take the phone from her when she stands and shows me the result. It works. It's pretty, but her angle is too safe; it doesn't get the glint of the sun on the wet parts; it generally just looks 2D.

"Okay," I say, pulling off my black T-shirt and tossing it at Kira to hold. "This is about to get messy," I tell her when she gapes at me, running her eyes over my naked chest as if it is about to throw itself at her. Seriously, we're on the beach; I'm wearing swim trunks... getting rid of my shirt is normal. Am I really that hideous to her?

She's just going to have to bear it for a while. I'm doing this for her, and if my shirt gets wet and muddy, she won't enjoy holding onto me on the bike ride home. I drop down onto my stomach, tilting onto my side to get the surface of the mud and the angle of the sun's sheen on it just right.

"This is awesome," I chuckle, grinning up at Kira staring at me as if I'm the strangest thing she's seen all day. I probably am. After trying a few different shots, I jump to my feet and hand her phone back.

Seeing her face light up while she scrolls through the pictures makes the smelly mud I got up my nostrils worth it.

"Oh, wow!" she gasps, grabbing my hand - the only mud-free area at the moment - and giving it a squeeze. "This is... oh, wow! I am going to put this one on my wall!"

She holds the phone up for me to see, nearly jumping with excitement. If I'd known that taking a cool pic of the sheen on some wavy mud would promote me all the way up to hero status, I would've done this ages ago. I knew Kicks loved pictures of things like ant hills and gopher holes, but I never realised how much until now.

Grinning, I walk to a puddle of slightly deeper water to rinse off some of the worst mud. Kira is running towards me from the bike's direction when I straighten up. Apparently, she went to stash my shirt over there.

We walk around, inhaling the fresh air, enjoying the breeze in our hair, and every now and then, we'll stop at a patch of mud decorated by birds walking on it, by snails tunnelling down into it or by the wind and water playing over its surface, and I'll find the best way to get Kira some awesome pictures.

"Mudflats form when seas, oceans, and tributaries deposit silt and mud in bays and lagoons when the tide comes in. The water mixes with the mud and silt, and that is why there are patches of quicksand," Kira tells me in answer to one of my questions. I'm really impressed with how much she knows about these things.

I'm not surprised. Kicks spends a lot of time reading books about nature and stuff like that. It's been her main field of interest since before I met her. I've just never tapped her brain like this before. It is fun listening to her talk about the things she's passionate about, seeing her eyes fill with light and her cheeks glowing with a sweet blush.

She tells me about the significance and importance of mudflats in the flyways of migrating birds, providing them with places of rest and food for their trek, and I haven't come up with a question yet that she couldn't answer at least partially.

I love seeing this place through her eyes.

To me, it is a long piece of beach with no waves and a thin strip of vegetation near the road. It's pleasant to walk on. It's a nice place to clear your mind, but it's mostly just raw and open and more than a little desolate. I prefer the waterfall... or a beach where I can surf, but I think I'm starting to fall in love with this empty stretch of mud too, even though I've run into way too many worms today.

On our way back to where we started our walk, we cross a section where the mud was baking in the hot sun, the dry surface flaking and cracking into tiny squares. 

"Looks like chocolate," I remark, crouching to touch a patch of dried mud. It looks really cool, and I lie down on my stomach, positioning the phone at the perfect angle to get the full effect from the viewpoint of an ant. It's not very comfortable, but what I see in the lens is amazing.

"Or like really dark fudge," I grin up at Kira. She looks so awesome from this angle, like a giant, about to step on me, a pretty one with her hair streaming in the wind. I turn the phone and snap a picture of her too.

"Will you stop with the fudge already?!" she laughs, shaking my head, and I take another picture of her. She is so friggin' gorgeous, and she never wants to hold still so I can take a picture of her. I took many today. 

"But I was promised fudge, and I'm clearly not getting any yet," I sulk. Just how many hints does a guy have to throw before he gets his fudge?

"I promised the fudge to your rugby rival, not to you!" Kira laughs, and I pull my most grumpy face. I don't know what it is about the expression, but it always causes Kira to give me some of her sweets.

It has the same effect on my mom and grandmothers.

"If you give him fudge, I'll release all the prisoners you keep in your fish pond," I warn, and she just rolls her eyes, clearly not taking my threat seriously. I can see why she's not worried; it's hard to release critters who show up voluntarily and leave when they want to. 

"I've told you two thousand, nine hundred, seventy-three point-five times already to bring me some butter and condensed milk, and I'll make you some friggin' fudge," Kira sighs, wandering off to where the wet mud begins.

She did?

Getting up, I run over to join her, handing her the phone to take a look at the last muddy pics. She no longer tries to delete the ones I've taken of her. I told her that they were my payment for services rendered, and she promised to send them to me after telling me that I was a weirdo.

She's smiling contentedly, making happy little sounds as she looks at the mud. Seriously! Why can't she make sounds like that when she sees me or get that look on her face when she's holding my hand?

"These are so good, Ethy! I love them! Thank you."

"Glad you like it," I smile, basking in the warm glow of her compliment and appreciation. We walk in silence, my eyes straying to the thin layer of water trickling around us before rolling back to join the sea, and Kira follows my gaze with her eyes. While hanging out here, it is important to watch the water; once the tide comes in, you could suddenly find yourself trapped between large areas of deep water.

"Tide is starting to come in," I observe, taking Kira's hand and walking with her to where she'd left her bag. She lets my hand go to pick it up and slips her phone inside. When she starts to head towards the motorcycle, I take the bag from her, lower it to the ground again, and in the same motion, I grab her hand and pull her back to where the water is coming in over the mud in a thicker layer.

"Ethan?! What are you planning?" She was running to keep up with me; I didn't realise I was walking that fast until I stopped in inch-deep water, and she crashed into me. I hurry to wrap my arms around her waist to stop her from falling. I swear I didn't do this on purpose, but she steps away from me the second she's steady on her feet again.

"I need a rinse," I explain, and bending over, I scoop hands full of the shallow water, splashing it at the mud covering my arms and chest. It is not very effective, but it will have to do. I'm covered in smears and splashes of sediment-rich mud; it might just seep right through my T-shirt and onto Kira when we ride home.

Our minor collision has already transferred some of that mud to Kicks. She's not complaining, and thinking about it; she often comes home looking like she rolled around on the ground. The problem is, I really want to hug her again, and I don't want her using the mud covering me as an excuse not to do it.

She bends down next to me, while I try to clean my face and run the water over the few smears she has on her arms.

"You missed a spot," she says helpfully, reaching out to help me wash my face, and I should've realised what she's up to. This is Kira Croft, after all. She smears a nice thick layer of mud over the length of my nose and down my cheek. I know I shouldn't be surprised, but I am, blinking at her, my lips pressed into a line while I process the moment.

"Why thank you," I say in a voice that doesn't sound grateful at all, narrowing my eyes and grinning at her. She knows what's coming now. She asked for it... practically sent me an invitation. I don't even have to try hard to leave a nice smear of mud on Kira's cheek. This is too easy. My hands were already dirty.

She knows this is war, and straightening up, she backs away when I lunge for her. It doesn't quite go as planned. We both imagined running through shallow water, occasionally throwing mud at each other.

Yes, Kira did say there was going to be no mud-throwing, and I knew it was going to happen and it was going to be her who started it, and as usual, I was right.

I did not, however, expect Kira to trip over her own feet, landing on her bottom with me falling over her, too caught off balance to avoid it. I try to change the direction of my fall, afraid that I will crush her if I land on her, breaking every single one of her bones. When my landing ends in a soft grunt, but not the sickening crackle of bones snapping, I am too relieved to appreciate the moment at first.

I've managed not to break her bones, but I could still crush her, so I push myself up to give her room to breathe and to ask her if she's okay.

"Are y..." I get no further because I'm staring down into Kira's face, less than a centimetre from mine. I can feel her pressed up against my length, her body soft and supple under mine, and my brain has stopped working. Looking into her darkening eyes, seeing her lips quiver invitingly, I think I'm about to go into shock. All I can see is Kira; she is everywhere, her fragrance wrapping around me, filling my lungs, her warmth, the goosebumps on the skin of her neck, where a pulse flutters like a little bird inside the hollow of her throat.

I am falling down a well and happy to do so.

"Ethan!" Kira calls, looking panicked while she pushes against my shoulders, wriggling to free herself from under my heavy frame.

"Oh!" I gasp. Exactly what is it that I'm planning on doing here? I'm also feeling a bit panicked, lifting myself off her and rolling onto my back to lie next to her. I know why I'm struggling to breathe; I'm worried about why Kira is gasping. Did I hurt her?

Wow! This is not awkward at all!

We haven't even been dating for two full days yet, and this is the second time Kicks and I ended up in a tangle of limbs, and not because we were trying to get up to kinky stuff. Imagine how many times more we'll end up like this in the future. This time was so much more tempting than the fall from the boulder. If next time is even worse, I might die from a stroke unless I get to kiss her in the process.

I haven't even had that promised hello kiss today. We've been surrounded by people the entire time, and I couldn't very well say hello to her when we arrived here... or could I? Yeah, I should've done that when we got off the bike. Now, it will just be weird. Right?

Here we are, lying in cold water pooling around our heads, washing silt through our hair. Kira is covered in muddy water, and I went to all this trouble to try and keep myself acceptable for the ride home. Wow! Mission failed big time, Dude!

Epic failure! 

At first, I'm snickering about how I'd specifically taken off my shirt so that Kira could have a clean guy to hang onto when we go home, and then I'm chortling about how I made sure not to touch her too much the entire afternoon so I don't get mud on her. I finally just give up to the laughter bubbling up inside me.

"Ouch," I say when I feel a couple of my rugby bruises protesting after the fall and then I'm laughing some more.

"Is this going to be our thing now?" Kira asks, giggling too, but she sounds a little nervous. I don't blame her; she probably thinks I'm demented, and to be honest, I do feel like I've lost my mind. "Are we going to keep on falling down together, getting dirty and scraped up?"

"Why? Don't you like that?" I chuckle, turning my head to look at her. So, she was thinking along the same lines I was.

"I'm not loving it," she admits, watching me with an unreadable expression, her eyes running over my face and hair, lingering on my lips, causing my heart to leap.

"Well, we could always get ourselves a new thing," I say, my voice sounding strangely hoarse in my own ears, and before I even know what I mean, I find myself rolling onto my side, my fingers of their own accord, stroking strands of wet hair from Kira's face and then I'm kissing her.

I honestly didn't mean to do this. Well, I did, but I didn't know I was going to... and I don't regret it. I've been fighting the longing to have her in my arms and kiss her since last night.

I'm only human.

She is here, and I am here. She was looking at me with such a gentle expression on her face; something in me broke loose, and here I am now, kissing the girl I love with every fibre of my being.

Her lips are cool and soft against mine. Their taste holds traces of salty sea water and mud, and it's the best taste ever because it contains Kira. I know there were kissing rules, but hell if I know what they were. Something about time and... stuff...

I don't think Kicks remembers the rules either; she holds onto my shoulder, kissing me back with as much enthusiasm as I am kissing her. She is not pulling away or pushing me from her; she is melting into my arms, wrapping her leg over mine, willingly coming into my arms, moaning softly.

My heart jolts inside me when I finally realise where we are, what we're doing, and how I'm standing on the edge of a knife, in serious danger of destroying Uncle Joe's trust.

I'm trying to build a real relationship with Kira. I want to convince her that I'm worth taking a chance on. If I try to follow my treacherous body into the paradise promised by this long soulful kiss, I'll lose Kira's trust and cause her to run away.

If everybody is right and Kira loves me romantically, she needs to realise that herself. I need to guide her there, not thrust her there and overwhelm her with passion, no matter how much I'm enjoying this moment.

It takes a super-human effort to end the kiss, leap to my feet, and pull her up too. I don't even dare to look at her right now; I cannot even touch her, or my resolve will break, and I'll end up destroying the delicate relationship I've worked so hard to build so far.

Forcing myself to let go of Kira's hand, I march away from her, heading to where I'd parked the motorcycle.

Hairy toes, mealworms, hairy toes, mealworms! 

It's not working! Come on! 

Hairy toes! Uhm... slugs... loads and loads of slugs... and maggots!

There you go! Disaster avoided, Ethan. 

Good boy!

♂♀