Finding Love in France

Part 12: Pillow Talk

He kissed her head and took in the feeling of her body laying on his. "Well, shit, if I'm gonna die, today was a pretty great fucking day" he thought to himself.

She smiled as she "listened" to his thoughts. She agreed completely. God, she could have laid there forever, except she needed to relieve herself.

She peeled herself off him and he made an exaggerated frown, "Hey! Where's the fire? Come back!" He reached for her hand, just missing. He didn't want this to end.

"Be right back, I promise, but nature calls, James." As she walked away towards a patch of high weeds, she "heard" him again.

"God damn, she is unbelievable. You are one lucky bastard. DO NOT FUCK THIS UP."

She smiled at this and thought to herself "And don't you forget it, mister!"

When she returned, he was sitting in a different spot, having a drink of water. She noticed his legs were wet.

"Figured a gentleman should clean up, right?" He laughed, offering her some water.

"Gentleman? Where might I find one of those?" she laughed back.

"Ouch, Doc!" He pulled her down next to him onto the blanket. She curled up into his side and he put his arm around her. He caught himself trying to count the freckles on her shoulders, memorize her laugh, freeze time.

After sitting for a while, she realized she was a little sweaty. "Feel like going for another dip? Our clothes can stay here and dry out this time." She winked at him.

"Sure, why not?" As they got up and waded into the water, he asked the question that had been on his mind all day "How the hell did you heave me across the pond like that before, Doc?"

She froze for a second, then took a deep breath and wondered whether or not to hide herself from him. "Well, James, simple physics, I suppose?"

"Physics? Bullshit!" He thought she was kidding.

"Actually, no, not bullshit. The strength in my legs, combined with the use of my bones like a lever, with my joints as a fulcrum..." she could tell he wasn't buying it. She sighed. "Okay, James. You really want to know?"

"Yeah! Tell me! How the hell'd you do that?" now he was getting irritated.

"Promise me something, James. Promise me that after you hear what I am about to say, you won't think less of me?" She didn't bother trying to hide her fear from him.

Irritation turned to concern "What's wrong, Mila? What are you so scared to tell me? You a magician or something?"

"No, James. I am not a magician. Magicians have a choice." She couldn't look him in the eye and stammered a little "I-I-I, um, am, well, have, or I suppose you could say, was born with, uh, some abilities." She braced herself.

"Abilities? Like being extra smart?" He was very confused.

"No. Though I do have a photographic memory, which helped me speed through school." She was stalling. "No. I have some abilities that are, how shall I say, out of the ordinary?" She still could not look at him.

"Like what?" A while ago, he never would have believed someone who claimed to have special abilities, but since Steve's transformation, he wasn't so quick to dismiss.

Another deep breath. "Well, for one, I am unusually strong, which is how I tossed you like a rag doll in the water." She saw him open his mouth, about to say something, and raised her hand in front of him to cut him off "That is also how I was able to carry you almost 20 kilometers back to the farm. And how I was able to, for lack of a better word, 'manhandle' you that first week."

At this, he shut his mouth and continued to listen.

"Then there are the senses. My vision, hearing, sense of smell and taste, and" she blushed a little "sense of touch are all heightened to the point where I heard your heartbeat and breathing on the battlefield, and that is how I knew you were still alive after you let out that horrible noise, and not just in death throes."

He was stunned, he had so many questions, but wanted to hear all of this.

"Then there is something that I cannot explain without sounding mad, so I will just say it. I can hear peoples' thoughts if I focus on them." She was shaking at this point.

"So, like a mind-reader? Right...What am I thinking about right now?" He didn't believe her.

"That you don't believe me." she said weakly.

"Too easy. What number am I thinking of?" He figured she was just good at reading people, she's a doctor, they do that, right?

"Thirty five." She looked up at him and tried to steady herself for whatever came next.

"No way! How are you doing that? What's the trick?" As he looked around her, like there was some sort of 'tell' that he didn't see.

"No trick. There is no 'tell', James. That is the number you thought of, is it not?"

He froze. "How long have you been reading my mind, Doc?" Now he was the nervous one.

"Since the moment I met you. You are difficult to tune out sometimes, James."

"Fuck. So you know everything I've been thinking?" he was the one blushing now.

Mila relaxed when she realized that he was more embarrassed than alarmed. She looked at him, smiled, and said in that low voice "Everything, James."

"Shit! Oh, Mila, I am so sorry. I didn't mean anything disrespectful or crude or mean or..." he was beyond humiliated.

She didn't let him finish his apology, instead, kissing him with a mixture of relief and, oddly, gratitude, that he was not running the other way.