The sky is slowly fading into a dusky gray, a stark parallel to my current mood. I breathe deeply in and out, in and out, clamping my mouth shut to keep from letting a sob escape my throat as the first tear silently rolls down my cheek. I’ve been walking for no more than a couple of hours now, and I am exhausted in all angles of the spectrum. Physically, mentally, emotionally; you name it, I’ve run out of the endurance to maintain a steady level of it.

         I trip over my feet, which sends me plummeting toward the ground, landing on my butt. I sit here for a moment, staring out into the great unknown, when I finally can’t hold it back anymore. I’ve reached my capacity, and there’s no humanly way possible that I can go any further.

         Tears begin silently streaming down my face and I move a hand up to my mouth, biting down hard on the interwoven threads that make up the material of my glove right down to my fingers to refrain from crying out. I hear Jack sigh discontentedly behind me, instructing me to come over to where he is. Unwilling to have him watch me break down for a second time today, I shake my head and remain looking forward.

         I really, really thought I could get us back in time, but the truth is that I can’t. I can’t do it. I’m the last person to ever give up on a task, but I’ve run myself dry and there’s not a drop of energy left in me.

         I’m only vaguely aware that Jack has suddenly propelled himself in the sleeping bag forward using his arms so he’s now lying beside me, untying the rope until he’s free from its clutches. I can feel him looking at me and I angle myself in the other direction, too stubborn to allow him to witness my defeat. It’s too embarrassing.

         “Opal, you’re an absolute idiot for not leaving me behind.”

         I refuse to look at him. “I wasn’t going to leave you to die, okay? Not after everything you’ve done.” My voice comes out more bitter than I intended it to and I squeeze my eyes shut, desperately trying to get a grip on myself. I refuse to look at Jack until I stop crying. There is absolutely no reason for me to even be crying.

         I hear him slam his fist into the sleeping bag and roll my eyes, despite myself.

         “God, you’re not listening to me! You should have listened to me earlier when I told you to let me go! By you being so freaking stubborn, you’re jeopardizing your life. As soon as you’re able to get going again, you have to leave me behind. I’m not negotiating with you this time.”

         I wipe away the remnants of my tears and whirl around, glaring coldly at him. “We’re supposed to be in this together! Do you honestly think I could find it in me to leave you at this point after all we’ve been through? For the last time, I’m. Not. Doing. That. So shut up about it already!”

         He scowls at me. “That was before I became immobile! I can’t walk anymore, and now you have to find your way back on your own. We can’t be in this together anymore; it’s all about you now! There’s no way I’m gonna be able to get back, but you had your chance. You should not have dragged me all this way with you.”

         “Give it a rest! You know, it’s your fault we got into this mess in the first place, so you should be thanking me right now. If you hadn’t followed me into these stupid woods, I would have only lasted a couple more minutes—if that—and gone right back inside! But no, you had to follow after me like some kind of lost puppy who’s never talked to girls.”

         He stares at me incredulously. “My fault? Are you kidding me? You’re the one who was acting like some self-righteous bratty little five-year-old. I wasn’t going to leave you in there alone; that would have been ignorant.”

         I shake my head and ball my hands into fists. “Right, I forgot, I’m always the annoying brat. Of course. But you know, I didn’t ask for you to follow me. That was your choice. And if you’re regretting your decision then sorry, but it’s too late to undo it now.”

         He throws his hands up in frustration. “Yeah, I am regretting my decision. Clearly you’re too much of a Florida diva or whatever you people down there call it to use common sense. This whole thing never would have happened if you weren’t so ignorant and had to go off on your own little tantrum just because things didn’t go your way for once. I only wanted to make sure that you were okay when I followed you, but yeah, you’re right, I’m regretting that decision right now. Clearly I should have left you on your own to do whatever in God’s name you were planning on doing in here, anyway. I don’t know what I was thinking to care about some stupid stranger, but clearly it was a mistake.”

         “A mistake,” I repeat flatly. “Right.”

         Something in my chest suddenly feels heavy, and I crawl a few feet away, desperate to be as far away from Jack—Alaska—as possible. I sit rigidly with my back to him as tears silently spill down my cheeks for only the umpteenth time today, making me feel weak and useless.

         As soon as I say it, I can tell he regrets his words. But he’s right. Why should he care about me? Nobody else does. Nobody ever will. And that’s my life. I have a big house with tons of nice clothes and more friends than I know what to do with . . . and none of it matters. And it finally dawns on me.

         That’s the gap that keeps me up every night. That’s what’s been missing in my life for all these years. I don’t need a boyfriend, or the cutest clothes, or more popularity than anyone could ever imagine.

         I just want someone—even just one person—who genuinely cares about me. And here I was starting to believe Jack might actually be that person. I should have known better. Nobody cares. So why would some stranger from Alaska be any different?

         “Opal . . .” he says, crawling beside me. I ignore him and continue staring straight ahead, lip quivering slightly as more tears stream down my cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he says softly, his voice coming out more apologetic than I was anticipating. “I didn’t mean that. I just got so worked up because you had a chance to find your way out of here and you sacrificed that for me, but it’s not your fault. And for the record, I wouldn’t trade the time I’ve spent out here with you for anything.”

         I throw a hand up to my face to stifle a sob and a swarm of butterflies take flight in the pit of my stomach when he peels my hand away and forces me to look at him, his brown eyes glowing with concern and sheer honesty. I can’t do this. I can’t handle Jack looking at me like that. Shaking my head, I look down, ignoring the tingles that cascade down my body when he brushes my hair out of my face.

         “Why are you crying?” he asks sympathetically. “We’ve been saying harsh things to each other this whole time. That’s the thing about you and me; we don’t hold back from each other. Are you really crying over something I said?” His voice doesn’t come out sounding at all taunting or spiteful. He sounds . . . concerned.

         Shrugging, I blink hard a few times, wiping my tears away with the back of my hand. I hate how Jack is talking to me like I’m a little kid. I hate this whole situation. I just want to go home.

         “You can’t ignore me forever, you know.” He pokes my cheek, and I can tell he’s trying to make me feel better.

         “I can try,” I mumble diligently.

         We sit here in silence for a few minutes, neither one of us talking. He’s right in front of me, his leg with the broken foot stretched out to the side and the other leg sitting Indian style. I try to get a grip, slowly regaining control of myself. After a while, I finally decide to speak.

         “You know,” I start slowly, fighting to keep my voice steady and still refusing to look him in the eye, “all the guys I’ve ever known have been unreliable. They all end up being jerks, or they do something to let me down. And nobody has ever even cared. Not even my family. I mean my mom loves me, sure, but she doesn’t care. I can count on my hands how many times she’s come home since she left when I was in fourth grade. While all the other girls in my grade had a mom to help them along the way, I had to figure everything out by myself. And then there’s my dad, who lets me do almost anything I want. The only times he ever even lectures me is when it’s absolutely necessary, but even then he never acts out on it or does anything to punish me. I don’t think he’s ever once even been to any of my swim meets. And my older brother . . . He’s barely said two words to me since back when he got into high school. And it’s funny, because I’m always there for my friends, but whenever I need them they’re always ‘busy’. Nobody ever cares. And then I met you and started thinking that maybe you were an exception to that . . . but obviously not.” I finally look up at him, and I can see the hurt splayed across his face. I force a small, bitter smile. “After all, I’m just a bratty teenage girl from Florida. Who could possibly want to waste their time with someone like me?”

         He sits in silence for a moment, drinking up my words. Each relaying moment that ticks by in silence makes my chest constrict a little more, further proving that he doesn’t care. After about a minute, I shake my head. I turn to crawl away, feeling the need to get as far away as humanly possible, but he stops me and scoops me up in a tight hug, nearly suffocating me. Absentmindedly, my arms find their way around his lithe body, though my mouth seems to be glued shut.

         Jack buries his face in my hair as he continues hugging me and I blindly hold onto him, a feeling of warmth filling up in my stomach. I’m a bit confused as to why exactly he’s hugging me so tightly, but I say nothing, absorbing the comforting feel of his embrace.

         “I care about you, Opal,” he whispers in my hair. “I care about everything you do. I want to go to your swim meets, and I want you to tell me how your day was, and I want to get in arguments with you even though you’re often wrong”—I whack him in the chest but can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face as he grins down at me—“and I want to be here for you. I’m sorry that I said that I regretted chasing after you because honestly? That was the best decision I ever made. And I believe in you Opal, honest-to-God.”

         He continues cuddling me in his arms and I can’t help but think about how in the past I always felt sort of awkward cuddling with boys, like what I was doing was strange and all wrong. But with Jack I feel comfortable; at home.

         Jack feels like home.

         “This is gonna sound really dramatic and soap opera-y, but I can’t go on without you,” I whisper, playing with little wisps of hair at the nape of his neck. “And I don’t think I have it in me to go any further, anyway.”

         He tightens his grip around me. “It’s okay,” he whispers. “I won’t make you leave me. I’m right here, baby.” I freeze in place, eyes narrowing. 

         “Jack?” I whisper.

         “Yeah?”

         “Don’t ever call me a pet name again.”

         He lets out a bark of laughter and rests his chin on my shoulder, his curly brown hair brushing against my cheek. “You’re the cutest person I’ve ever met,” he whispers, his breath tickling my ear.

         I shiver.

         His fingers lightly stroke my thigh and I squirm against his chest, shifting in position so I’m resting against him more comfortably. My face dissolves into an involuntary smile and I take his hand and lace it with my own, playing with his fingers. The audible sound of him sighing next to me makes me feel at ease.

         “I like how you use my name every chance you can, even when it’s not necessary,” I mumble. “I like how you make me feel safe, even though I always try to act tough. I like when you brush my hair out of my face. And I like how you never try to take advantage of me, even though you’ve had about a billion chances.”

         I can hear his smile as he nuzzles into my hair. “Why are you telling me this?” he asks.

         I give a languid shrug. “I always say mean things to people, so I figured now’s a good time to start saying nice stuff.”

         “I really, really like you, Opal,” he murmurs in reply. “I like how honest you are, and I like when I can make you laugh, and I like playing with your hair because it’s really soft and pretty. I like how you always try to act like nothing can get past you, but I like it even more when you let yourself be vulnerable around me. I like cuddling with you, and I kind of wish that I could cuddle you all the time. I like hearing you talk, because everything you say interests me, but most of all, I love being with you.”

         My heart dances in my chest and I squeeze his hand, just to anchor myself back to reality and make sure I’m not floating away into some dreamy figment of my imagination. He squeezes my hand right back, confirming that I am, in fact, still a functioning member of reality. Being on the verge of death, it’s kind of hard to differentiate between what’s real and what’s not anymore.

         “Jack . . . what if I die?” My voice wavers. “I don’t want to die. I’m scared.”

         “You won’t die,” he concludes, though this does nothing to soothe me.

         “How do you know?” I whisper, eyes drooping shut.

         “Because I know.”

         “Jack?”

         “You say my name every chance you get too, you know.”

         I smile. “Can we get to bed? I’m really, really sleepy.”

         “Of course.”

         I finally force myself to push off from his lap, crawling toward the sleeping bag which Jack has disregarded and temporarily shoved away earlier and climbing inside, not even taking the time to care that we don’t have an igloo or anything to block out the chilling wind. Jack slowly follows suit, dragging his injured foot with him tentatively.

         “Does it hurt really bad?” I nod in the direction of his foot.

         “I think it might be infected on top of being broken,” he admits tersely. “But I’ll be okay. I’m more concerned about you and your illness.” I stay still as he slowly lowers himself in the sleeping bag beside me, terrified to bump or even so much as touch his foot, which might send him wailing in agony.

         “What if I accidentally bump it in the middle of the night?” I ask, voicing my thoughts aloud.

         Once he’s finally settled, he scoots closer to me and rests a hand on my cheek. “Don’t worry about it.”

         His eyes search mine and it takes a moment for me to realize that his face is coming closer until it’s only a few inches away, and my heart rate speeds up in anticipation. I force myself to pull back, though, which makes him frown.

         “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I say gloomily, propping my head up on my arm to look at him. “I don’t want to get you sick.”

         “I don’t care,” he says plaintively. “Besides, I already got the flu shot. I really want to kiss you right now.”

         Before I can tell him “no”, he’s leaning in until his lips are brushing mine. It’s safe to say that both of our lips are really chapped, but that doesn’t prevent the swarm of butterflies that suddenly congregate inside the pit of my stomach in a breathtaking whirlwind. He keeps it short and sweet, and both of our mouths remain closed because I refuse to pass on any saliva to him, which would almost guarantee him getting sick. But when he pulls back, I find myself wanting more all the same.

         “So yeah . . . Happy Easter,” he says breathlessly, causing a sudden spurt of laughter to spill out of me. I don’t think I can take how adorable he is much longer. He grins down at me as I do nothing to quell the fit of giggles that seem to be bubbling out of me.

         I've been tipsy from drinking at parties before, and being with Jack reminds me of how it feels to be buzzed. You temporarily forget about the burdens that pile up all around you and even if just for a moment, you get to enjoy yourself. I imagine this is the feeling one would achieve while floating in a cloud.

         When I finally contain myself, I turn to look at him, my eyes glowing with affection. “Happy Easter, Alaska.”

         He looks at me and frowns, reminding me of a puppy dog. “Hey. You called me Alaska again. I thought I was Jack now?”

         “You’re both. It depends how tolerable you’re acting. If you’re being okay, you’re Jack. And the other ninety-nine percent of the time, you’re Alaska.”

         We grin at each other and he pulls me into his side, snuggling me against his body. “You totally like me.”

         “In your dreams, Jack.”

         His hand finds mine and he intertwines them together once again. I allow my eyes to flutter shut, ready to sleep off this indisputably difficult day. After several seconds of the burning feeling on my face telling me that I’m being the object under Jack’s scrutiny, my eyes reopen to find that sure enough, he’s still got his head propped on his arm, watching me.

         “What now?” My voice has only a tinge of annoyance to it.

         “I just keep thinking about when you said that you’re a hurricane. Because I used to think almost the same thing about myself. I used to think I was some kind of metaphorical storm or something that only caused damage, especially after my dad died.”

         I hesitantly bring my free hand up and run it through his curly hair, letting its soft tresses run through my fingers. “If you were a storm, it would be a snow storm or something,” I say. “All innocent and pure or whatever.”

          He smiles and shakes his head. “That’s not how I used to see it.”

         I reflect back on when I told him that I’m a hurricane. I still believe it, to be honest. My whole life, I’ve been a hurricane amongst a sea of tropical depressions and light rainstorms. I’ve never been subtle about anything. While everyone else would always strive to get things right and stay out of trouble, I’ve been nothing but trouble. I always make sure to leave my impact.

         In essence, I guess for this very reason I always felt isolated from everyone else, in a way. Nobody ever has faith in hurricanes, aside from the fact that they leave a disastrous trail of destruction in their wake. But maybe it takes meeting someone on the other end of the spectrum, someone who is also a storm of raging thoughts and emotions, to actually understand what it’s like. To connect with you in a way that nobody else ever has.

         And I guess for me, that person comes in the form of Jack.

         “Look,” he suddenly proclaims, snapping me out of my reverie. He points toward the sky and my gaze follows his finger when I see it.

         “No way,” I say, voice coming out breathless. My lips part in awestruck wonder as I look up to see flecks of all shades of greens, blues, purples, and pinks dancing together in the night sky, a series of Technicolor streaks that weave together. Every once in a while, flashes of a brilliant white glimmers its way into the mix and I continue gazing up at the display, absolutely captivated by the enchanting spectacle that unfolds in the sky above us.

         “It’s so beautiful,” I manage to whisper, trying to do everything in my power to capture the enthralling scene in my mind, where it can stay hidden away to be remembered for the rest of eternity. I flit my eyes away long enough to gauge Jack’s reaction, only to find him staring at me.

         “Not as beautiful as you, though,” he murmurs, a feeble smile painting its way onto his face.

         Unable to help myself, I burst into a boisterous bout of laughter, burying my head in the crook of his neck as I try to regain composure, to no avail.

         “That’s hands down the cheesiest thing anyone has ever said to me,” I manage to get out between spells of laughter.

         He smiles affectionately and kisses my cheek. “It’s also the truest.” He pauses for a beat and then, “Opal?”

         “Yeah?”

         “I meant what I said earlier. I care about you more than I’ve ever cared for anyone. So you can’t say that nobody in your life cares about you, because I do.”

         I smile and whisper, “I care about you too, Jack. More than you would imagine.”