“That’s actually a pretty good idea. Just do this already so we can get out of here. I swear, Six is going to kill us, or worse, maybe she’s about to be killed by a swarm of Mogs and we’re here lying in the grass about to go through a scene from Romeo and Juliet.”

I power up the phone and type: I promised I’d come back. U up?

We count to thirty after I send it, and then I type: I love you. I’m here.

“Maybe she thinks you’re pranking her,” Sam whispers after we wait another thirty seconds. “Say something only you would know.”

I try: Bernie Kosar misses you.

Her window lights up. Then my phone buzzes with a text: Is it really you? You’re in Paradise?

I pull up a handful of grass, I’m so excited.

“Chill out,” Sam whispers.

“I can’t help it.”

I respond: I’m outside. Meet me at the playground in 5?

My phone buzzes immediately: I’ll be there. :)

Sam and I are hiding behind a Dumpster at the end of the street when Sarah takes her first steps onto the concrete playground. From the moment I see her, I’m breathless, flooded with emotions. She’s twenty yards away, wearing dark jeans and a black fleece jacket. A white winter hat is pulled over her head, but I can still see her long blond hair, and it brushes over her shoulders in the slight wind. Her flawless complexion glows in the lone playground bulb, and I feel instantly self-conscious about being covered in dirt and Mog ash. I take a step away from the Dumpster, but Sam grabs my wrist and holds me back.

“John, I know this is going to be really hard,” he whispers. “But we have to be back in those woods in ten minutes. I’m serious. Six is counting on us.”

“I’ll do my best,” I say, not even thinking of the repercussions at this point. Sarah is right there, and I’m so close I can practically smell her shampoo.

I watch Sarah turn her head back and forth looking for me. Finally she sits down on a swing and twists herself, the ropes above her becoming taut. Sarah starts to spin slowly, and I shuffle around the perimeter of the playground, pausing behind trees, watching her. She looks so beautiful. So perfect.

I wait until she’s facing the other direction before stepping out of the shadows, and when she twists around again, there I am.

“John?” The toes of Sarah’s sneakers scrape on the concrete to stop her from twisting back around.

“Hey, beautiful,” I say. I can feel my smile reaching the corners of my eyes.

Sarah covers her mouth and nose with her hands.

I walk towards her and she tries to get off of the swing, but its ropes are too taut for her to escape.