A siren tears me from my sleep at six in the morning. Rubbing my eyes, I fight the fog surrounding my mind; I hardly slept after tossing and turning most of the night while listening to Raine's even breath. When Felipe picks me up to take me to the mess hall for breakfast, my stomach is still upset, the nausea sitting like a fat lump in my throat. A dry cough bothers me on top of that. I'm definitely coming down with a cold.

When I returned from my date, Bettina wasn't around. According to Raine, her boyfriend had picked her up, and Raine gave me some suggestive eyebrow wiggling. The thought that they have premarital sex doesn't sit well with me; they haven't even set a date for their wedding yet. Maybe it's that loose European behavior my mom told me about.

Felipe and I stroll hand in hand across the yard and I get lost in the serenity of the morning's peace. Despite the early hours, the sun already warms my skin, yet the air is crisp and fresh. Usually, I would prefer the beach and the sea, but the protectiveness of the majestic mountains towering all around us brings a certain comfort. It's like sitting on a large cupped palm that shelters me from harm, able to fold defensive fingers around Malaguay if something bad ever happens.

As we enter the mess hall, Felipe moves his hand to my lower back and most conversations fall quiet just the way they did last night. Everyone stares at us as he maneuvers me toward a table in the back. Though my cheeks sting a little, I keep my chin up high this time, ready to stake my claim. We kissed, so he's kind of my boyfriend now, even if it's not official yet. When I notice the envy in Raine's eyes, my lips twitch; for the first time in my life, I'm the girl others admire.

The gleeful moment passes the second my gaze falls on the couple already seated atour table. Shauna's eyes are red and puffy and her stare is fixed on the platein front of her. The guy she is with is drop-dead gorgeous. Full lips with a goatee beard and dark blue eyes the shade of a deep ocean. His fine facial features give him a certain elegance. Yet when he looks at me, the coldness emitting from him turns my insides to ice. I can't hold his gaze and lean into Felipe.

"Stacy, this is my best friend, Tomás, and you've already met his wife, Shauna."

"Good morning," I mumble, afraid to glance at Tomás.

"It's nice to meet you, Stacy." Tomás's voice is as cold as his eyes. "Shauna said you arrived only yesterday?"

My voice fails me and I clear my throat. "Yes." I remember my manners. "And it's nice to meet you, too."

Felipe pulls the chair out for me, and I lower myself down, my feet firmly planted on the floor. With Tomás around, I want to be ready to bolt if I have to. He keeps glaring at me, which sends a shiver through my body; I've never met a person more unlikable than him. When I finally dare to look up, something in his gaze keeps me trapped.

Felipe's sudden hand on my shoulder startles me. "I'll get us some breakfast. What would you like?"

The little bit of appetite I had when I entered the mess hall has vanished. "Some toast and coffee. I'm not really that hungry."

Felipe frowns. "You hardly ate anything last night. Are you okay?"

"My stomach has been bothering me and I'm getting a cold. Nothing major."

The guys exchange a glance.

"You should take her to the doctor, Felipe. People can easily get sick when they travel to foreign countries." Tomás's hand envelopes his wife's, and she flinches. "Shauna had a really bad cold when she first got here. She even had to spend a few days in the hospital when they suspected pneumonia. It's something to take seriously."

I tear my gaze from Shauna's fearful face and turn my attention to her husband. "It's fine." I don't like when people make a big fuss about me.

Felipe shakes his head. "But Tomás is right. We shouldn't chance it."

"Please, Felipe, don't make me go. I don't want to be a burden because of a little cold and waste my vacation by spending time at a doctor's office."

"Okay, but you have to promise me that you'll go if you feel worse."

"I promise." Relieved that he's finally dropping the subject, I even muster a small smile.

"How long is your vacation?" Tomás asks.

"Two weeks."

"Then Felipe had better get busy." If looks could kill, he would have dropped dead off his chair from the daggers Felipe shoots his way. Tomás is unruffled. "No te olvides de compartir el pastel, mano."

I frown. I've never liked it when people speak another language in front of others who can't understand them. It's rude.

Felipe grumbles Spanish words under his breath and heads for the buffet on the other side of the cafeteria. Tomás's gaze stays on me, his lips curved in a creepy smile. I want to hide under the table. In my head, I count down the seconds to make Felipe return faster, but time seems to crawl. Shauna only stares at her plate without making a sound. The silence is pressing. When Felipe finally places the toast and a coffee cup in front of me, my back is covered in cold sweat.

Tomás crumples his napkin and tosses it on the table. "I should go. Miguel picked up a few new recruits last night and I want to check them out." He turns to his wife. "Go home, Shauna. I expect a meal tonight, and not this grub they serve here. The house could use a cleaning and my sister needs help with the kids. This is not a vacation as it is for Stacy."

She nods with a trembling lip; not once has she spoken or looked around. When Tomás reaches for her, she jumps up, storming out.

Felipe arches his brows. "Are you guys all right?"

"As all right as we can be." Tomás grimaces. "Shauna can be stubborn, as you know, and she's bored. My sister said she'll take care of it."

Felipe nods. "That might be the best. How is your sister anyways? Haven't seen her in ages."

"She's fine, just a little bit stressed since Enrique got that job in Quito. Five kids can be tough, especially when you have to deal with three stubborn teenagers. The oldest has been coming around the compound to googly eye some of the soldiers. That girl is like a dog in heat."

I'm taken aback at his crude remark. How can he talk about his niece that way? Luckily, they exchange this guy fist-punch thing and he's on his way, leaving Felipe and me behind at our table.

Felipe licks a little jam off his thumb. "You don't like Tomás, do you?"

"Was it that obvious?" Right at that moment, the door closes behind Tomás, taking the last bit of tension with him.

"Tomás takes some getting used to, but he's actually a nice guy under the surface. I'd trust him with my life."

I'm mesmerized by Felipe's moving lips. When he picked me up this morning, he only gave me a peck on the cheek and I'm dying for a proper kiss. To distract myself, I start buttering my toast. Though my stomach is in the tightest knot, he will drag me to the doctor if I don't at least make an effort. I'd rather not spend my vacation around a germ-infested office.

"How long have you known each other?" I ask, more out of politeness than curiosity.

"We grew up together. Both our parents died when we were very young, and we lived at the orphanage until my uncle came for me. Tomás joined the liberation fighters at the same time, so we trained together as soldiers. He's like a brother to me."

"How old were you when your parents died?"

"My father was killed before I was even born"—he slurps his coffee with blank eyes—"and my mom died when I was a baby. I don't remember her."

I frown. "I thought you had a younger sister."

"Oh, Ana. She's the daughter of my dad's first wife. We are actually not even biologically related, but we're very close. She's my aunt's sister—that's why she hangs around the mansion a lot."

My head is buzzing from the complicated family constellation. "So your aunt is also your stepsister?"

"Oh no. She and Ana are only half-siblings, sharing the same dad. She married my uncle a few years ago, so she's my aunt by marriage. Miguel's real mom died the same night as mine. They were sisters, so that's how he's my cousin." When my forehead wrinkles, he laughs. "I'll draw you a diagram. That might be easier."

I'm still trying to wrap my head around which child is whose when the sounds of shuffling feet fill the mess hall. Everyone is leaving.

"Where are they going?"

"Training starts in five minutes. You can take your time, though. I'm exempt for the next few days and have no plans that can't wait."

I nibble on my toast, my stomach settling a little. Soon, there's only us and the cleaning crew left. They are all women. Their conversations are hushed, and they keep glancing at our table.

I'm ready to abandon my last piece of toast. "Let's go. I think they want to finish up."

Felipe rises slowly and stretches; I admire the bulging muscles under his shirt. As we head toward the door, he casually slides his arm around my waist. I lean my head against his shoulder. He pulls me closer to him and my heartbeat accelerates, my mind focused on his breath grazing my hair. Warm stirring spreads in the pit of my stomach from the subtle scent of his aftershave. I can't remember ever being happier.

When he pushes the door open, "Mierda" rolls over his lips. The sun has disappeared behind thick clouds, the rain bucketing down like there's no tomorrow. The yard has transformed into a mud pool, and the door to the dormitory is hardly visible through the downpour.

Felipe huddles us closer to the building. "We should wait inside until it stops raining."

My mind is taken over by the romantic notion of singing in the rain. "Why? I'm not made of sugar."

"Are you sure? We'll be soaked."

"What doesn't kill us makes us stronger, right?" I bite my lip, thrilled that he didn't reject the idea as downright ludicrous. "Where are we going?"

"The training center over there." He points to a large building at the edge of the forest. It's even farther away than the dorm. Mischief sparkles in his eyes. "You're crazy, Stacy. I really like that about you."

With a squeal, I take off. He's right behind me. I laugh as he chases me. When he finally catches up, envelops me in his arms. We reach the building and I gasp for air from the run, wheezing, but when his lips brush mine in a tender kiss, my shortness of breath is forgotten. The rain splashing down on us is warm—like a comfortable shower—and my insides melt from his soft kiss. I don't even mind him squeezing my butt.

Without a word, he grabs my hand and pulls me toward the building. He was right, my clothes and hair are drenched, but I still giggle as I step into the large foyer.

Felipe's boyish smile is wiped off his face. Miguel is standing by the landing a few feet away and his gaze travels up and down my frame. His inspection ends on my breasts. To my horror, my body is not only reacting to the sudden chill from the training center's air-conditioning, but my white shirt is practically see-through. The two men in uniform with Miguel also take in a good eyeful, one of them giving Felipe an approving smirk.

Miguel shakes off his jacket. "May I?" When he gently drapes it around my shoulders, my cheeks are hotter than ever. "Wouldn't want the soldiers to be distracted and accidentally shoot each other." His warm breath tickles my neck, his husky voice causing my cheeks to sting even more. They must be the color of an overripe tomato by now.

"Let's get you some dry clothes," Felipe mumbles. "We have uniforms that should fit you."

He ushers me away, but the men's stares still burn into my back until we turn the corner. Laughter erupts before we are out of earshot, and the embarrassment that I was likely the butt of another joke keeps the heat in my cheeks.

Fifteen minutes later, my rain adventure is only a distant memory as I plod behind Felipe, dressed in a soldier's outfit with matching combat boots. I actually feel a little kick-ass.

Compared to the dorm, the training center is a modern facility with several huge areas for various exercises. It's a mix of an average gym and one of those shooting ranges I've seen on cop shows. From an elevated balcony, I watch Tomás as he shows a group of boys how to handle a weapon. They look even younger than the ones we saw yesterday; the smallest couldn't be much older than my little brother, Owen. Without exception, their bodies appear malnourished and the few glances straying my way are bleak and vacant.

"Those are little kids," I blurt out, baffled that Felipe doesn't seem to have a problem with child soldiers at all.

"Those boys are orphans from a nearby village, which was raided by the rebels a few days ago. They saw their parents slaughtered, their homes burned to the ground, and their sisters raped by the soldiers of the old regime. Those men are the true enemy who don't allow us to live in peace and try to battle us to extinction with weapons supplied by your government." He spits his words with venom.

I suck in a deep breath, but he isn't finished.

"You might think it's wrong that they want to pick up a weapon and fight for their country, but the army is all they have left. The alternative is a life in the streets, where they have to fight over scraps just to stay alive. Most of them would die of starvation by the end of the month."

"But couldn't they be taken in by relatives?"

His laugh is bitter. "Malaguay is a poor country and there's not enough food to go around as it is. No one is eager to feed another mouth. With the limited agriculture we have, my uncle has to import almost everything, but the world governments give him a hard time with trade embargoes because he prefers to give children like those boys a purpose instead of abandoning them. The people in power in America are all hypocrites, claiming that they want the best for third world countries, but in reality, all they seek is control—to make people like my uncle be their puppets. Well, he refuses to be like that, so they call him their enemy. That's the reality, Stacy."

I let his words sink in. Coming from his mouth, it all makes perfect sense, but my parents taught me that violence is wrong, no matter what, and that conflict should be solved in a peaceful manner. What they seem to forget is that the US government is just as quick to pick up a weapon as everyone else when they smell even a hint of danger. They certainly like to be the policemen of the world.

We continue our tour and I find the array of weapons fascinating, though I have no clue what most of them are. My parents don't even own a hunting rifle, and my knowledge is strictly based on movies and TV shows. I recognize hand grenades and bulletproof vests, but that's pretty much it.

Felipe's words continue to echo through my head as the day proceeds, distracting me during our hike into the mountains in the afternoon. I get dizzy after only a mile, my stomach so tight that I fear I will throw up any second. Every muscle aches and I'm incredibly tired.

"I think I'd like to go back and lie down for a while."

His eyes are full of concern. "If you don't feel better by tomorrow, I'm taking you to the doctor, regardless if you want to or not."

With unsteady feet, I stumble along. His arm around my waist prevents me from falling. By the time we reach the SUV, I'm covered in sweat, the world blurring in front of my eyes. Every time I take a breath, my lungs wheeze. I feel absolutely miserable.

When he starts the car, my eyelids flutter and I doze off. A jolt for a halt wakes me up. We are back at the compound and Felipe scoops me up. As he carries me toward my room, I vaguely register my surroundings. I drop my head against his shoulder when the heaviness proves too much. The bed is softer and much more comfortable than I remembered. With a sigh, I pull the blanket closer around me. He joins me in bed and embraces me from behind, but my mind is too far gone to object.

"Are you sure you don't want me to call the doctor?"

"Uhum. I just need a good nap."

"Then sweet dreams, Stacy." He nuzzles his face into my hair, his body wiggling until we fit together like two snug puzzle pieces.

The warmth emitting from his body unravels the last reservations I have about sharing a bed with a man who is not my husband. He's not trying anything other than hugging me, and my clothes are like a protective layer, so what's the harm? I cuddle closer, the rhythmic pounding of his heartbeat soothing me like a lullaby. When sleep finally claims me, I want nothing more than to fall asleep in his arms for the rest of my life.

~~~~

© Sal Mason 2017

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