Moonrise

Chapter Five

Her eyes were shut, but not too tightly. She focused on the steady drum of her heart and even more intently on her even breathing. It was important to keep her body relaxed and not too tense, otherwise her reflexes would only fail rather than aid her in the upcoming seconds.

Patience, of course, was also key. So she waited. And waited. And waited some more. She did not have to do much else except wait, otherwise she would have only gotten ahead of herself and deterred any chance of enjoying the victory she knew was close.

When she felt the shift in the air, Ellette pulled her outstretched hands, which had been resting comfortably on top of Michael's and basking in their warmth without actually touching, to her chest. For the fifth time in a row, she managed to avoid his hands smacking hers, which was the main objective of the game they had been playing for the past quarter of an hour.

A laugh escaped her when she opened her eyes to see a pouting Michael.

"Even with your eyes closed, you still manage to make a fool out of me." He lifted his eyes to hers, a smile on his face as he held her gaze.

"Here, give me your hands." Even though they were sitting across from each other with their legs crossed, she further closed the bit of space between their bodies by scooting closer.

Ellette could not explain it, but there was something intriguing about Michael. Something pure residing deep within him that she could not help but latch onto. He had been in their care at the cabin for two days, but it did not take Ellette very long to establish a state of comfort around the shifter.

She did not know him any better than he knew her or her three older sisters, but it did not take much effort for her to admit that, in some odd and incomprehensible way, she actually enjoyed his company. That when she left his side to return home, a feeling of reluctance always crept upon her. That when she woke in the morning and when she laid her head down to sleep at night, her thoughts always carried her away to him, and a part of her—a very small but prominent part—wondered if, in those exact moments, he was thinking about her, too.

Doing as instructed, Michael offered Ellette his hands. Though it was not entirely necessary, he also moved his body closer to Ellette.

Next to them, the sound of the crackling fire resonated throughout the dark room. Nightfall had graced the lands over an hour prior, and its arrival should have urged Ellette to return home. She was already on shaky grounds with her Father, and had promised her Mother that she would find it within her to try and eliminate any cause for confrontation. Arriving home late yet again would surely cause the opposite effect, but Ellette just could not bring herself to leave the old cabin—or Michael's side—just yet.

Taking his outstretched hands in her own, she turned them so that his palms faced downwards. She then placed her hands underneath his but with her palms facing up. "Now, relax your fingers," Ellette said as she did the same with her own.

The objective of the game was for the slapper, the person whose hands hovered below the hands of the other person—the slappee—to attempt to hit their opponent's hand. The job of the slappee was to avoid the hit by pulling their hands away before contact could be made.

Up until an hour ago, Ellette had firmly believed that the simple game had been played by every person at some point in their childhood. But when Michael confessed he had not heard of it nor played it, she felt obligated to show him what he had been missing out on for far too many years.

"Now, your problem is that you are anticipating my movements far too early. You keep flinching because you are expecting the hit rather than waiting for it. Now, look at me."