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This was exactly what she needed.

"Why’d you do it?" Kira heard John ask.

Tristan carefully examined the fins of a new board and smoothed his hand along the bottom, testing the curve of the wood. "I knew it would annoy Luke, and besides, we might be able to use her later. Letting her die would have been a waste."

Kira stopped breathing so she could listen closer. This wasn’t about her at all. Maybe he would have even let her drown.

"Good thinking," Jerome praised him.

What was she to them? She would never let herself be used by anybody, ever. The fact that they thought she would was more proof that they were the ignorant ones—not her.

"I don’t think it’s as simple as you make it sound, Tristan." Diana spit out the words, and then put her hand on Tristan's, making him meet her gaze. "I see the way you’ve looked at her. The way you held her when she woke."

"Don’t be absurd." Tristan looked back down, brows knotting, unable to hold Diana's gaze for too long. She threw his hand away from hers and off the board, so he couldn’t hide behind it.

"Jealously doesn’t become you," Jerome said to Diana.

"We’ll see," was all she replied.

Kira didn’t want to trust her ears. Tristan's concern had seemed so real on the beach. But, maybe Diana was right. Maybe he was helping just because he wanted to protect her. Maybe there were things he didn’t want his friends to know. Maybe—Kira started but then her tippy-toe balance failed her and she knocked the shelf, letting a few soccer balls fly off and bounce down the aisle.

Crap, she thought and ran to another aisle to escape before they caught her. Kira heard one of them say to separate and check on who was listening, so she dove into the best hiding spot she could find—a tent that had been set up in the camping section. She zipped it halfway, to prevent from being too obvious, and hid behind the closed part of the flap.

Kira barely breathed for ten minutes until she saw the misfits walk past her tent with a surfboard and head for the cash register. After they left, she slowly emerged from the tent and calmly walked out the door.

"Miss, miss!" She turned to see an employee from the sporting store running after her. "I’m supposed to give you this." He handed her a small piece of paper and turned back toward his store. Kira stared at the folded note, unsure of whether to open it or let it fly away in the wind.

"Hi, Kira. Nice hiding spot. Tristan."

A shiver ran down her spine, of fear or of excitement, she didn’t know. But she did know one thing—he didn’t rat her out to his friends or they would’ve confronted her, which meant Tristan was keeping secrets.

The question was really how many and from whom?

Chapter Four

For the next three weeks, Kira ignored Tristan. At school, she built her friendships with Luke, Miles, Dave, and Emma. At home, she played with her sister and practiced for culinary school. She was determined not to think of him and the drama he would bring into her life. Instead, Kira focused on all of the people and things she did have and let that little part in the back of her head that longed for him get quieter and quieter. But she couldn’t completely erase the nagging wish that he would be the one to break the silence and approach her.

On the first Saturday of October, Kira decided it was finally time to start working on her term paper about Charleston’s role in the War of Northern Aggression, more commonly referred to by the rest of the world as the American Civil War. Her history teacher had assigned the entire class a research paper due before Christmas about Charleston’s local history and involvement in the war. The open-ended question was to be interpreted in any form she wanted, and Kira thought it was more than annoying that most of the students had a lifetime of knowledge about the city compared to her meager month and summers spent mostly at the beach. Today would be her day to wander around and explore until something interesting caught her eye.

Battery Park was the first stop. Kira figured she would start from the southernmost tip of Charleston and move north. As she walked along the wharf that ran parallel to the park, Kira noticed that the Civil War monuments still stood but their meaning had been left behind. Statues had been erected to honor past heroes of the South and cannons were placed facing the open water as if still waiting for an attack to defend against. However, the mounds of cannon balls were now a play place for children pretending to be soldiers, and the statues were a challenge to little adventurers hoping to climb something more than a tree. The North had long since moved past the Civil War, but even in Charleston, a city engrossed in its own history, the past was beginning to be left behind.

Kira leaned against the metal fence, facing the sea. In the distance, almost like a mirage, stood Fort Sumter, the ultimate spot of Charleston’s Civil War history. It seemed hard to believe that such a small island fortress had been such a huge stronghold and spot of aggression. But she knew it was too easy of a pick for her paper and figured almost everyone in her class would be writing about it.

Kira turned back toward Battery Park just as a modern day horse and carriage rode past her. She tried to picture two women with hoop skirts and floppy hats riding around, probably pulled by a slave, and envisioned men wandering around in uniforms with muskets to patrol the streets against a potential Northern invasion. She imagined a way of life come crumbling down, imagined the mansions in front of her exploding with cannon fire, and all the beautiful trees around her lighting up in flames.

For a moment, she saw all of that, until someone's breath tickled her neck and a whisper made its way to her ear.

"Lost in thought?" Tristan’s deep voice sent a shiver down her spine, and a secret smile played upon her lips—he was officially the one who broke the silence. Since she had tested her own willpower and won, Kira decided it was perfectly fine to talk to him now.

"I was until you so rudely interrupted," she said playfully while turning her body to face his. Kira took note of his dark-washed jeans and how they completely opposed her own white tank top and flower-covered skirt.

Tristan shrugged and said, "Since I’ve already annoyed you, I guess there’s no real reason to stop." She couldn’t help but laugh, and he smiled in return. "What were you thinking about?" He leaned back against the rail, so his arm lightly brushed against hers.

"Hoop skirts and muskets," she blurted out.

"What?" He lifted one corner of his mouth and furrowed his eyebrows in a half-question, half-laugh.

"Oh, sorry, my Civil War paper." Kira frowned and looked beyond Tristan at Battery Park. "I see all of the history here, but I can’t seem to find a topic that really stands out to me."

"Come on." He put an arm around her shoulders and guided her toward a cannon across the street. "Who better to show you around than a Charleston native?"

After not speaking for three weeks, Kira had never expected to have Tristan as her own personal tour guide, but it was perfect. He seemed to know everything about the city, and spending the afternoon with him was exactly what she needed to get the paper done. It also happened to be exactly what she wanted in her heart.

Tristan led her around Battery Park first, pointing out a huge mansion that was a wedding gift from a father to a daughter after the war, and another beautiful town home that still had a piece of shrapnel lodged in the roof from a Northern attack. He explained that Battery Park had been Charleston’s first line of defense against any ships that made it past Fort Sumter and had not always been so picturesque. They kept walking as Tristan pointed out famous cemeteries where Confederate soldiers were buried and tons of buildings that had been preserved during the war that were truly from historic Charleston. They walked to the old slave market, which was now a flea market where local artisans could sell their goods. He showed her where the slaves had been kept, how they were sold, and where they were eventually set free. He painted the picture of a graceful city with an ugly undercurrent of racism that still needed to be weeded out.

"How do you know all of this?" She questioned him after two hours.

"You pick up a lot when you live here." He shrugged. "Charlestonians are very proud of their history."

"I guess, but you describe it like you lived there."

He breathed out a laugh, one that almost sounded like a sigh. "Do you actually believe that’s possible?" His squinted eyes caught hers at that moment and she knew there was more to this question, some deeper meaning. Her heart skipped a beat. Was it possible?

"Of course not,” Kira looked away, flustered, and focused on the old woman sitting on a blanket on the sidewalk weaving a straw basket. She could have been from a different era and almost seemed out of place near the busy intersection where cars zoomed by behind her.

Kira looked back at Tristan. Did he fit into the scene? His constant brood made it seem like he was years older than he looked. She knew he had more on his mind than the average seventeen-year-old, but was that enough to start believing impossible things?

"Come on." He nodded to the side making his hair slip to shield his eyes. When the piercing blue was hidden in shadow, Kira finally felt she could breathe and stopped her mind before it dreamed up even crazier theories. "I want to take you to my favorite place in the city."

They walked for a while, lightly chatting to avoid any serious topics, before Tristan stopped in front of a huge building. Four round columns shot upward into a huge triangular frieze that reminded Kira of a Roman temple, until she looked further up and saw the top of a steeple. The building was huge but rather plain with large wooden doors and sweeping windows, but no ornate decorations marred the beauty of the architecture. The yellow-tinted stone created a beautiful contrast against the blue sky, and Kira tried to take it all in before she looked to her left to read the sign that stated Saint Philips Episcopal Church. Kira was a little shocked. She had never figured Tristan as the religious type.

"I know what you’re thinking, but it’s because of the view." He started to enter and she had no real choice but to follow. When she walked inside, the sanctuary took her breath away. Huge white columns rose toward an arched ceiling that was also a polished white. The marble floor led her eye past the ivory pews toward a huge stained glass window behind the altar. With the sunlight beaming through, the window acted almost like a kaleidoscope, casting colors around the otherwise bare room. Kira looked up at the balconies that ran parallel down the sides of the church and were composed of carved mahogany, creating a striking contrast. And when she turned, an organ took up the majority of the back wall, and she could almost feel the music coming from the great instrument.

"Kira, come on." Tristan stood beneath the organ and waved her over. "This is nothing."

He walked over to the wall at the left corner of the church, and Kira watched him dubiously. Suddenly, what had seemed like solid plaster creaked open as Tristan found the secret latch he had been searching for. He pulled the thick door and moved his arm toward the opening as if to say, “After you, miss.”

"Is this allowed?" Kira asked while she peered into the darkness.

"Rules are made to be broken," Tristan said with a wry smile. She knew it was a challenge—could she drop her usually straight-laced mentality?

Kira smiled back and started walking. As she passed through the hidden entry, she found a wooden staircase that creaked when she put her weight on the first step. She saw the light disappear and heard the door shut as she continued to climb with Tristan following behind her.

When she reached the top, she could see the structure of the arched ceiling and knew they were above one