Fire Proof

Chapter Sixteen

"Wow." Bryce whispers when I walk into the living room where he's sitting on the couch. "You look amazing!"

I feel my face heat up, and I duck my head for a moment to look at my outfit. I'm wearing a lacy, apricot dress that falls in loose ruffles down to my knees. And from what I remember in the mirror, my hair is curled as close to ringlets as Jasmin could get it. It was a lot tighter at the beginning, but they are definitely looser and bigger now. By the end of the date, I know my hair will be flat again.

"Thanks. Um, so do you?" My compliment comes out like a question and he laughs, making me blush even more. "Sorry, I've never done this before."

He grins and takes my hand, causing electrical shivers to travel up my arm. "It's alright, you don't have to be embarrassed."

I give a small grin back and he leads me out the door and down the driveway to the sidewalk. We turn to the right — the opposite way as everything in the pack community — and begin walking hand-in-hand towards the forest at the end of the street.

"You seem to like the forest, so I set up a little something in there. I hope that's alright." He says nervously and I smile.

"It's perfect."

We walk mostly in silence, which was awkward at first, but now it's kind of nice. He isn't pressuring me into talking and he isn't blabbering. We're just enjoying each other's company and that's all we need right now.

A little ways into the woods, he turns and I see a small clearing with a basket set in the middle of a blanket. Nothing is spread on it, but it looked cute and cozy and it brought a smile to my face.

"I know it's totally clichè, but I hope you like it."

I shrug, "I don't even know what that means; and I love this!"

He laughs and lets go of my hand as I sink down onto my knees on the edge of the blanket. He kneels down beside the basket and starts pulling random items out of it. Some of them I can't name, but I recognized bread and cheese, and I could smell the meat that was in the soup Jasmin made weeks ago. I think it's called chicken.

He creates a plate full of a little of everything and hands it to me before creating his own. When he's finished, he scoots closer and motions to the food.

"If you don't like anything, don't be afraid to tell me. You won't hurt my feelings; I know you're not used to some of the food we have here."

I smile, "Don't worry, I've been here for a while now and I think I'll like everything you brought."

I dig in, taking it slow with small bites. I don't want to stuff myself in case he somehow had more surprises. After a little bit, he clears his throat and I freeze, glancing up at him through my eyelashes.

"So, um, there's been something I've been needing to talk to you about." He starts, and I can tell he's incredibly nervous.

It's making me nervous, so I start fidgeting, "Is this going back to what I'm not telling you? Because I promise I will eventually, I just have trust issues, and I'll answer small scale questions right now if you want, and —" I stumble over my words and he grabs my hand in a gentle manner.

"Hey, relax! It's not that, I swear."

I slackened my posture and finally looked him in the eye. ". . . Okay." I can't tell where this conversation is leading, and that frightens me a little bit.