Chapter 6: A Slight Progression (teaser)

I sat back up, placing my back against the wall and glanced over toward Edward. My mouth fell open, and I let out a low trembling breath. He’d been watching my interaction with Lancelot, and apparently was pleased by it because the right side of his mouth actually turned up into a small smile. I was completely staggered, though it was a pleasant shock.

I had to correct myself almost immediately so that my reaction didn’t startle him. I smiled back at him, and reached inside my bag to pull out the book. “I brought Walden by Henry David Thoreau. I hope you like it.”

I began to read, getting completely lost in the words. He remained quiet, of course, but listened intently to what I was saying…until the fourth chapter. “There is commonly sufficient space about us. Our horizon is never quite at our elbows. The thick wood is not just at our door, nor the pond, but somewhat is always clearing, familiar and worn by us, appropriated and fenced in some way, and reclaimed from Nature. For what reason have I this vast range and circuit, some square miles of unfrequented forest, for my privacy, abandoned to me by men? My nearest neighbor is a mile distant, and no house is visible from any place but the hill-tops within half a mile of my own. I have my horizon bounded by woods all to myself; a distant view of the railroad where it touches the pond on the one hand, and of the fence which skirts the woodland road on the other. But for-”

“I,” he started, then paused. I waited anxiously for him to continue speaking, my heart fluttered triumphantly in my chest, because that one word was the first word I’d heard from him in nearly a week, but right now, that one word was everything. He was staring at me, almost pleadingly, so I smiled to reassure him. “I…like it.” He glanced from me to the book.

“Me too,” I whispered hoarsely. I bit my lip to catharsis myself of my emotions. “This book was always one of my favorites. I have a weakness for classic literature.”

I swear he smiled again. It was fleeting, but it was there. “Please,” he whispered.