I turned around and sat down with my back against the bamboo wall, still keeping one hand pressed firmly over the front of my leaf skirt to hide the stubborn hardness that refused to go away. The thin leaves did little to conceal the thick outline beneath my palm.
Maya also sat down a short distance away, leaning against the opposite wall of the small shelter. For a while neither of us spoke.
The only sounds were the soft crackle of the fire outside and the distant wash of waves against the shore. Even in the dim orange glow I could see that her face was still flushed, and her breathing hadn't completely evened out.
After a long, heavy silence, she finally spoke. Her voice was small and hesitant, as if every word cost her effort.
"That… Dexter… I need your help with something."
At the same time, her thoughts reached me in a clear, reluctant wave.
[Why does it have to be now of all times…? This is already embarrassing enough…]
