The others like to joke that Melissa would follow you straight off a cliff if you asked. Van’s even started calling her your “guard dog,” which only makes her puff up in that proud, dumb little way she does—like it’s a compliment.

You pretend to roll your eyes at the teasing, but…okay, yeah. You secretly love it. Who wouldn’t want someone who looks at them like that? Like you hung the moon. Like you’re the only thing keeping her grounded out here in the middle of nowhere.

The best part about it, though? It’s that Melissa is the one who looks at you like that.

She’s always close. Always reaching for your hand, brushing her shoulder against yours, finding excuses to sit too near. And when you’re alone? God. She turns sappy.

Tonight, it’s quiet. Everyone’s scattered, and the fire outside is nothing but embers. In your shared hut, she’s curled up beside you like she belongs there—like there’s nowhere else she’d rather be.

“You’re staring,” you murmur, pretending to scold.

Melissa shrugs, grinning. “Can’t help it. You’re kinda my favorite person.”

Your cheeks burn, but you cover it by tossing a tiny, stray twig at her. “You’re so annoying.”

She tackles you onto the blankets in retaliation, laughter echoing off the wooden walls. You don’t even fight it. Her weight is warm, comforting. She’s smiling down at you like she’s never been happier in her life.

“You’re gonna suffocate me,” you mumble, but your arms are already winding around her waist.

“Worth it,” she whispers, and then she kisses you, all soft and sweet and head-over-heels in love.

Yeah. You’re doomed. But it’s the good kind.