Saturday

She used to sleepwalk when she was little.

Sometimes she'd wake up to find herself making a sandwich. Sometimes she didn't wake till morning, when she'd discover the jelly-smeared knife in the sink.

When she wakes this morning to find her panties balled up in the corner of the tent, sopping wet, she wonders if she can claim to have been sleepwalking.

x x x x x

Friday

It's hot, and she can't sleep.

She's trying to, desperately. Michael is sure to have a full day of team-building, morale-boosting, productivity-increasing exercises for them tomorrow. If tonight's campfire was any indication of what lays ahead, she hopes Jim has a good prank planned.

Just now, she's tossing, wondering how Phyllis can possibly sleep. She can hear her breathing lightly next to her, once in a while making a sound that's almost a giggle. She wishes her sweet, refrigerated dreams, and quietly exits the tent.

The air is humid and heavy with honeysuckle. Even the crickets have been oppressed into silence. The moon rests behind clouds, creating a strange half-glow that makes Jim's teeth stand out when he smiles at her.

"Can't sleep?" he whispers.

"Nope."

"Me either. Take a walk?"

"Sure."

They walk in silence at first. The dew is cool on her toes, and when she looks down at them, she sees that Jim is barefoot. The tendons in his feet flex in and out of view as he walks. She wants to trace one from toe to instep with her fingertip.

When they're out of sight of the tents, he speaks. "So I think I've thought of something."

The prank. "Excellent. What?"

"This way." He turns toward the lake. She follows him down a long hill, into the trees.

"Ooo, slather him with honey, and leave him for the bears?"

He chuckles. "Do you want to spread honey on Dwight?"

She grimaces. "Eee. You're right. What was I thinking?" She tries to shake off the image.

The path comes out onto the shore. "Watch your step." He leads her down to a small dock.

"When did you find this?"

"While everyone was figuring out their tents."  The wooden dock is smooth under her feet.

"Nice. So what's the plan?"

"Two words: lake creature."

"Oooohhh! Yes! Like the one on -?"

"Yeah. Do you think he'll buy it?"

"Are you kidding? That's his favorite episode. Awesome."

"Thanks."  They reach the end. The moon has eluded the clouds, and the ripples at their feet have silver edges now. The water directly ahead forms a tiny bay, protected by a semi-circle of forested shore. "Nice spot."

"Mm. So quiet." She sits down and pulls off her sandals. The water is much warmer than the dew. "Ahhh."

Jim lowers himself beside her. "Save some for me." And for some reason, the words make her insides jump. To distract herself, she leans down, splashing water up onto her shins. But his feet are there, and his ankles, and his shins, two calves, a couple knees.... She gives him a splash for good measure. "Thanks. So I figure I tell Dwight I saw something down here tonight, and he'll come investigate tomorrow night. But here's the thing: we need a creature."

She sits upright. "Not you?"

"Well, I'd do it, but if I'm not there when he sees it, he'll know I'm behind it -"

"I'll do it."

He looks surprised.

"Seriously, he'll never know it's me. Just show me what to do."

Something changes imperceptibly in his expression.

"Oh, god, he won't shoot me, will he? Tell me you'll frisk him before you come down here."

"Absolutely not." He looks horrified, then reassures her. "I promise he won't have any weapons more dangerous than his own hands."

"I can live with that. So, what's your vision, maestro?"

"Okay," and his voice carries the familiar excitement, "see that log over there on the right? You should be able to hide behind that whenever you need air,..."

"Okay..."

"...and between breaths, you can, I don't know, just move around a lot, popping up some part or other, to keep him guessing."

She giggles. "Some part or other?"

"Yeah, if you do it right, he'll report a creature with five legs or two heads or... well, you get the picture."

She grins.

"What d'you think?"

"I think we need to rehearse." She's dying to get into the water.

"Reh-?"

"Turn around." His eyes follow her fingers to the hem of her t-shirt. It takes him a moment to realize she's stopped moving. He looks up quickly.

"Right." He turns around so that he sits facing the shore. He mutters, "Turning around, noticing nothing..."

She quickly strips to her bra and panties, and slips into the water. It sweeps deliciously over her skin as she swims out to the log. When she reaches the far side, she peeks over it, and whispers loudly. "Can you see me?"

He whispers loudly back. "Yes."

"No! Wait." She ducks. "How ‘bout now?"

"That's better. Now act creature-ish."

She breaks a twig off the log, takes a deep breath, and sinks. She swims around the open area, holding the twig so that it forms wake patterns when she's near the surface. The moon is bright now, and when she pokes up an elbow now and then, a knee, a heel, two hands together to resemble a fin, it looks as though she's painting her body with ripples.

When she resurfaces behind the log, she takes a moment to catch her breath before calling softly, "How was that?"

Silence, but for the water lapping at the log. She peeks over the log again.

"Jim?"

She can't see the end of the dock where it sits under the trees. She clutches the log and squints.

"Jim? Jim!"

"Yes?"

He's right behind her, and when she screams, his hand flies around to cover her mouth. The force of it pulls her backward against him. He laughs softly in her ear. "Shh! You'll wake the whole camp!"

She giggles in relief and tries to ignore the twisty feeling in her tummy. She breaks free and swims a short distance away before turning. "How did I do?"

He's grinning. The muscles above his shoulders bunch as he treads water. "I like the stick - great idea. Ooo! Maybe let your hair drag on the surface."

"Like this?" She puts her face down in the water and moves across in front of him. It's hard to keep her rear end down out of sight. She's mostly successful. When she looks up again, he's trying not to smile.

"Yeah, exactly like that."

She splashes him. "Shut it."

"Oh, that reminds me. Splash here and there. Do you know how to make a water spout?" He cups his hands together and squeezes, and a stream of water shoots up from between them.

She imitates him and produces a decent little fountain of water. "But from underwater, right?" She takes a deep breath and slips under, watching her hands at the surface. When she squeezes them, the water a few feet away is disturbed by the spout. She practices a few more times, then looks over to see the ripples playing on Jim's chest and stomach. His boxers billow a bit as he kicks. The water's too deep here to see his feet.

She turns slightly and squirts in his direction.

His muscles tell her he's laughing before the sound reaches her. Then he slips under, his arms crossed on his chest, and gives her a chastising look. Her own arms are still stretched toward the surface, something she doesn't notice until his expression falters and his eyes flit briefly downward. When they meet hers again, they hold the moon.

Her hands come down slowly, and as she turns to face him, she's surprised they don't move to cover her. Instead, they scull lightly at her sides. His arms have fallen as well, but she can only see his eyes, almost feel them as his gaze leaves a trail over her skin. The sensation brings heat and goosebumps at the same time, and she begins to move toward him.

He looks back up when he realizes she's getting closer, his expression somewhere between terror and hunger.

When she's close enough, she reaches for his hands and, holding his eyes with hers, places them on her breasts.

His eyes close and he swallows. His hands rest on the lace, warm and gentle. Then, his fingertips begin to slowly, lightly, trace the edge of the fabric. When he opens his eyes again, they don't waver from hers, even as his fingers slide between her breasts, down her side, and around to her lower back, where they flirt with the elastic there.

She doesn't notice they've broken the surface until she sees water dripping from his ears.

He kisses her once, wet and warm, lingering.

Then his lips are gone, and his thumbs are tracing her cheekbones, her temples. She opens her eyes to find him looking at her as though he's trying to memorize her face.

She follows the moon in his eyes until he's finished.

x x x x x

Saturday

She dresses slowly, remembering.

She zips the tent screen carefully, deliberately. When she can't stall any longer, she slips on her sandals and walks to the picnic tables, blindly putting a bagel and a banana on her plate. She's peeling her breakfast when he takes a seat next to her.

His fingers hold the coffee mug protectively, caressing the heated ceramic. He lifts it to his lips and blows gently across the top, then takes a tentative sip. When he sets it down, he taps the rim lightly with his thumb.

Even after he clears his throat, his voice is morning hoarse.

"Did I ever tell you I was a sleepwalker when I was little?"

"No."

He nods. "Mm-hm."

She looks at him until he meets her eyes. She smiles. "Me, too."

He laughs softly and looks back down at his coffee. "Huh. Imagine that."

"Yeah. Imagine." She bumps his arm with her shoulder, and they eat in silence.

After a while, she says, loud and innocent, "So, what was that you were telling me about the lake?"

He looks confused, then remembers. He looks up, then around to find Dwight. He spots him nearby, and winks at her.

"You'll never believe what I saw there last night."

She tries not to grin as Dwight's head whips around.

This is going to be fun.

Saturday morning

"What? What did you see?" Dwight has refocused. Angela looks annoyed. Jim thinks it may be related.

He shrugs. "I'm not sure."

"Describe it. In detail. And keep your voice down."

Jim leans over, voice low. "Well, it was in the water -"

"So, a fish. Or mammal. Or, wait... reptile... amphibian.... Question: did it have fur or scales?"

"I don't know, it was dark."

Exasperation. "Go on. What else?"

"It moved around a lot. It'd pop up in one place, then in another a few seconds later. Sometimes, it'd stay under for a while, then glide along the surface. Oh, wait, I think it had fur. And fins." Pam's knees are bouncing under the table. "And maybe antennae."

"Impossible."

Jim shrugs. "That's what I saw."

"Obviously, you have no observation skills. I'll just have to go investigate, myself. Damn! I told Michael I'd set up the obstacle course."

"Well, I checked this morning and it wasn't there."

"You probably scared it off. Or it's hiding from you. That's probably it. You couldn't sneak up on a deaf-blind mute -"

Mute? Pam mouths.

"What time did you last see it?"

"About two a.m."

"Two a.m.? Did you have permission to leave camp? Because that's a violation."

"Of...?"

"Of the... it's not important. I'll have to make an exception tonight anyway. For science."

As they finish their breakfast, Dwight's determining his equipment needs.

They laugh when they realize he probably has most of it in his car.

x x x x x

Saturday night

"All set?" He calls softly, averting his eyes.

"Just about."

"Okay. I'm gonna go back to the dock. He'll be here soon."

"Okay. Oh! Jim! Remember: you said you'd frisk him for weapons."

"No, I did not. I'll be doing a visual inspection."

She giggles. "Okay, Michael."

"Ooo, low, Beesly. I'll get you for that."

As he walks away, he thinks he hears her say, "Promise?"

He doesn't have time to think about it. Dwight has arrived in full creature-investigating regalia.

"Wow. Shortie wetsuit, snorkel, fins. Camera, good idea. Are those night vision goggles?" Dwight's already using them. "Nice legs, Dwight. Whoa, wait, what's that for?" Dwight follows Jim's finger as he points to the ball-peen hammer strapped to his calf.

"I may need to stun it."

"Oh. No, no."

"What?"

"Well, I mean, what if you just make it angry? Or damage it? This may be your only chance to report something like this. Wouldn't wanna have to explain to the authorities why its skull is cracked."

"Hm. You may be right." Dwight removes the hammer. "I'll just have to use my hands."

"Good luck."

"A real man -"

"I know, I know. Billy Zane."

"Yeah, well, you should - what was that?"

Jim turns to see the aftermath of a splash. "That must be it. This is the spot."

Dwight raises his goggles and waves at Jim, whispering, "Okay! Sh! Shut up. I don't need you scaring it off again. Just stay out of my way."

"Right." As Dwight creeps out onto the dock, Jim hides the hammer, just in case. Then he follows Dwight. When he reaches him, he looks over Dwight's shoulder, and whispers loudly, "What's it doing?"

"Shh!"

Jim backs off and grins to himself. Pam's doing a great job. She's using the twig again, only this time, she must have one in each hand because they're swirling opposite one another.

Dwight's riveted. "Whoa."

He wishes he could see her, but it's much darker tonight. He strains to watch, wishing he had a pair of goggles, too. He's pretty sure he sees her elbow and her knee, then her hair (without the extra bonus this time). At one point, four small stones fly out of the water in quick succession, landing in four wildly different spots.

"Fascinating. I wonder if that's how it lays eggs."

Jim's smirking when Pam executes a beautiful water spout, the stream arcing majestically before splashing back down.

Dwight gasps.

"Oh, yeah. Did I forget to mention it has a blowhole?"

"Amazing."

Then something else skims the surface. Jim stares. Was that -?

Dwight jerks his head back from the goggles. "A breast?" He looks at Jim, who's speechless. "It has breasts?"

"Um, well, I don't know. It has one, I guess."

"That's it, I need to get closer." Dwight brushes past Jim, who suddenly realizes why Dwight's wearing a wetsuit.

"Dwight! Wait!"

"No! Serendipity waits for no man!"

What? Jim crashes through the trees after Dwight, who's actually being really quiet. I'd be impressed if I weren't freaking out.

When he reaches him, Jim speaks loudly, hoping to alert Pam. "What are you going to do?"

Dwight wheels on him. "Would you keep it down? I'm getting in, of course." He hands the camera to Jim. "Can I trust you to take decent photos?"

Jim stares at him blankly, then looks at the log. Pam's peeking at them over the top. "Uhhh..."

Dwight sighs. "I'll have to trust you. Dammit. I should have brought Ange-"

Jim looks back quickly. "What?"

Dwight's caught. "Uh, no one. I mean, nothing. Here, take the goggles, too. Don't break them. I traded a pristine Kirk with Tribbles for those. Original packaging."

Jim's glad that he has no idea whether that was a good trade or not. He looks at the log. Pam's gone.

"Jim?"

"Huh?"

"Photos?"

"Right."

Dwight mutters as he edges toward the water. "Can't wait till I can replicate myself. If you want something done right, you have to do it yourselves."

A splash about twenty yards out draws their attention.

Dwight chuckles. "Gotcha." He pops a glowstick - who carries glowsticks? - and attaches it to his mask. Jim hopes it'll serve Pam better than Dwight. Jim snaps a few photos of Dwight stepping awkwardly into the water in his fins - gonna use those later - then abandons the camera in favor of night vision.

A bright green glow surrounds Dwight, which Jim finds wonderful and appropriate. Pam seems to be moving farther from shore. She's splashing more now. Covering for the need to surface? Dwight kicks toward each disturbance, only to be outrun and circled. He gets several spouts of water in the face. Pretty soon he's being pelted with stones.

Jim can't help but laugh. "I think you're pissing it off, Dwight!"

In the goggles' twin circles of green, Dwight turns to glare at him, drawing a finger across his throat. He reaches into his wetsuit and pulls out a diving knife.

"Dwight, no!"

But Dwight isn't listening. He's following what must be a tiring Pam. Jim drops the goggles - fuck the Tribbles - and stumbles toward the water, kicking off his shoes. He dives in and swims for Dwight, still yelling. The water in front of him is starting to look like a feeding frenzy. He aims for the glowstick. When he reaches it, he hooks an elbow around Dwight's neck, jerking him backward.

Dwight comes up sputtering. "Dammit, Jim! I almost had it! I lost my knife..."

"Oh, god, you didn't stab her, did you?!" He's pulling Dwight backward, searching the surface for a sign of Pam.

"No, I dropped it. Let go of me! Wait... her?" Then, as Dwight's looking back at him, Pam pops up long enough to give him an OK sign, then slips under again.

Jim's heart settles back into place. "Uh, yeah, well, it had a breast, right? Shit, you're heavy, even in water. Kick your feet, for chrissake."

"Let me go, I can swim for myself."

"No way. You're a danger to the wildlife. Kick!"

When they reach the log, Jim hangs on it, panting, while Dwight scans the lake.

"It's gone."

"Can you blame it?"

Dwight's genuinely disappointed. "So close." He looks at his hands. "I had it by the antennae."

"Told you so. Maybe next time." He tries to stretch the stitch in his side.

"Yeah." Dwight tosses his fins ashore, then pulls himself out. "Did you get any photos?"

"What do you think?"

Dwight sighs. "Guess I'll stay late tomorrow and try again."

"You do that."

Dwight stands. "Aren't you coming back?"

"No. I mean, it'll look suspicious if we show up at the same time, right? I'll wait a while."

"Alright. See you in camp."

"Yeah." Just leave so I can find her.

He holds onto the log, watches Dwight until he disappears into the trees uphill from the dock.

Just before he turns to swim out again, something surfaces behind him.

And giggles.

He turns to find her grinning at him.

Without thinking, he reaches for her shoulder. "Are you okay? That got way out of hand."

She fakes indignation. "I'll say, I thought you were going inspect him?"

"I know, I'm so sorry, I didn't know he had -"

"Yeah! A shortie wetsuit! How am I supposed to get that image out of my brain?" She shivers, then smiles softly at the pained look on his face. "When I saw he had a knife, I got behind him. One goose with my antennae and he dropped it."

Jim's eyes close in relief.

"Not that you don't have to make it up to me."

"Anything." He squeezes her shoulder and realizes there's no bra strap under his thumb.

She cocks her chin. "Come for a swim."

His eyes come back up to hers. "Sure."

She wrinkles her nose and shakes her head. "You won't be needing this." Her fingers find the bottom of his t-shirt underwater and she drags it up. He lets her skin it off of him. She drops it on the log.

"Or these." He freezes when her fingers find the button of his shorts. He watches her intently as she undoes it and slowly lowers the slide on his zipper, careful not to touch him. He stops treading long enough for her to ease the shorts off. She hands them to him, and he tosses them unceremoniously over his shoulder. She takes his hand, guiding it to the elastic at her hip. With her other hand, she pats the waistband of his boxers. "That's more fair."

With that, she rolls over and swims away.

He follows.

The air and water are the same temperature, and he thinks this is what a cloud feels like. When she stops and points up, the sensation intensifies. The sky has cleared, and the moon is yet to rise. Millions of stars blanket them.

"Wow." He lays back to float, staring at the sky.

She does the same, her head next to his, their toes pointing in opposite directions. "I feel like I'm flying."

He laughs. "Yes - exactly."

She's quiet for a moment then, "Jim?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

She sits up in the water. "For jumping in tonight."

He lets his feet drop and turns to face her. The freckles on her nose stand out in the starlight. He really wants to kiss them.

She remembers how his voice sounded from underwater as he yelled at Dwight. By then they'd been struggling on either end of a long stick. Her palms still felt raw.

"I was so worried you'd get hurt."

"My hands are a little sore, that's all."

He moves closer. "Let me see."

She shows him one palm, so she can use the other to stay afloat. He frowns at the dark marks he can see on it. He brings her hand to his lips, placing several small kisses. She stares at him while she brings her other hand out of the water. He kisses each mark there, too, his eyes closed.

When he opens them, they fall to her mouth, which is open just slightly. He lays his thumb on her lower lip, pulling it down so that he can feel the wet skin inside. When he pushes back up, she catches his thumb between her teeth. She holds his eyes as she puckers her lips around it, sucking on it lightly. There follows a long moment during which he's afraid he might die before he can touch her properly.

His voice is a whisper. He's having trouble breathing. "There's another dock."

Her eyebrows rise. "Mmmff?"

Jesus. "Follow me." His thumb makes a popping sound as he reclaims it.

He swims for a small diving dock a little farther out. When he's almost there, he turns. She's nowhere in sight. Then a pair of small hands close around his ankles and he knows exactly where she is.

The hands glide up his calves, over his knees, to the inside of his thighs, briefly, maddeningly close, before sliding up to his hips, waist, chest, and then she's in front of him, water drops falling from her chin.

He leans forward and licks at the drops, before dipping his head to run his tongue along her jaw. When he comes to her earlobe, he nibbles it until she groans. She stops moving, lost under his lips.

When she realizes she's sinking, she begins kicking again. But he's so close she's afraid she'll hurt him, so she wraps her legs around his waist. He gasps and his hands immediately grasp her hips. He kicks, and she sculls, furiously, as his mouth meets hers.

He's hungry, his tongue on her teeth, his lips nipping hers. He's pressing her to him, and when he moans, she feels it in her belly. He's salty and Jim and when she sighs in his mouth, he breaks away for breath.

"Dock. Now."

She meets him at the ladder. The top rung sits just under the surface, and he lifts her onto it, facing him. He grabs the handles, raising himself to look her in the eye. What he sees there is unmistakable. He moves past her mouth to her ear.

"Where was I?"

He begins at her earlobe, slowly tracing a hot, wet path with his tongue down her neck, collarbone, and sternum, across a breast, around a nipple. When his mouth closes over it, his tongue still circling the center, she gasps, arching toward him. He brushes the underside with his nose and continues down. With his hands on her waist, he licks a lazy circle around her navel, dipping in briefly to tickle her. She stops giggling when she realizes his lips are resting at the top of her panties.

Her thighs twitch.

He catches the elastic band in his teeth and waits.

She closes her eyes and begins nodding, then remembers that he isn't looking up. When she speaks, it's an urgent whisper. "Yes... yes."

He pulls, but they're caught under her. She lifts herself off the step, and feels the fabric slide off. She wonders briefly if she has a dry pair at camp, but snaps back when he spreads her knees and begins nibbling his way up the inside of her thigh. Small moans escape her until his nose comes to rest in her hair. He takes a deep breath in and holds it. So does she. Then his tongue parts her in a long, hot stroke and she cries out.

She wants to squeeze him between her thighs, but he holds her legs apart firmly and begins making tiny, delicious circles around her clit. She can't stop moaning now, and she doesn't know if the stars she's seeing are real or not. His tongue strokes, then licks, his lips sucking lightly before he licks again, his whole mouth covering her, devouring her. Her world is reduced to hot and wet and faster, and her orgasm hits her hard and sudden, her legs kicking, splashing them both, as she cries out to the sky.

She's barely aware of Jim taking a few final, gentle tastes of her before closing her knees and resting his chin on them.

When she can see again, she looks down at him and shakes her head. "Ohhhh. Get up here."

He's no sooner on the dock than she pushes him back, throwing a knee across his waist. He can feel her hot and slick there, and it makes him grip her thighs. She lowers her belly and chest against his and nuzzles his jaw with her nose. Her lips are soft on his neck, hesitating over his pulse, before finding his ear. "Do you know what I thought the first time I met you?"

Her breath is hot and her hips are hovering just over his boxers, so he does the only thing he can do, which is close his eyes and choke out, "No?"

She nips his earlobe and says, throatily, "Looonnnggg," and his toes curl.

As her lips kiss their way down his chest, her hair sweeps after, making it difficult to tell exactly where she is, until she makes it clear by hooking her fingers under his waistband and tugging. She peels the wet fabric from him slowly, gasping when she frees him. The boxers make it to his ankles before she abandons them and climbs back up his legs, her breasts heavy on his thighs.

She stares for a long moment, her mouth an O of wonder, and he holds his breath.

She lowers her head and blows on him, and his thighs tense.

Finally, she cradles his cock in one hand and licks it firmly from base to tip, and his breath comes out in a groan. Her mouth closes over the head, hot, wet, tongue circling, before her cheek slides down him to the base again. This time her tongue circles his balls delicately before giving him another long, hot stroke upward. He's not sure he's ever been this hard before, not sure anyone has, and wonders if there's any blood left in his brain. But then she's sucking him hungrily, and her moaning is literally enveloping him, and he decides that brain function is overrated.

She alternates licking with grinding, then straddles him for good, sliding up and down the length of his cock with skin that is all slick heat. When his jaw is clenched and he doesn't think he can take it any more, she slips his tip inside her and begins to slowly take him in.

She lowers herself inch by inch, hesitating a few times to relax her muscles. When her hips rest on his again, he holds them there. When he's fairly sure she won't move, he moves his hands up over her stomach to cup her breasts. Her head falls back and when he rubs his thumbs across her nipples, she begins to moan, loudly. He feels his way around to her back, sliding his hands down over her rump, kneading her where her ass meets her thighs. It causes her muscles to clench, inside and out, and she begins to move.

She moves up and down slowly at first, arching her back so that her breasts stand out against the stars. With each stroke up, she grips him, then relaxes to swallow him again, over and over, until he needs nothing but for her to move faster. He locks her hips in his hands and shows her the pace he needs, then finds her clit with his thumb. His touch causes her to yelp and she begins to cry out with every stroke, until it's just one long, hoarse cry. When she starts screaming yes, he surrenders to the wet and the heat and the cries, and explodes inside her. He vaguely feels his head hit the metal surface of the dock, as she comes undone again. Her thighs tremble under his hands, and he can't feel his feet, and then she's moving more slowly, savoring the last of the tremors. When she collapses on his chest, they lay still, breathing in huffs and puffs, listening to the water lap against the dock.

"I think we may have scared off the lake creature."

She laughs. "Poor Dwight." She lets her fingers play on his chest. "Remember what I said about sleepwalking?"

"Mm-hm."

"It's true. I used to make sandwiches in my sleep. Mostly peanut butter and jelly."

He chuckles. "I used to try to climb onto the roof. One time, I took my sheet, which was apparently going to serve as my parachute."

"Oh no!" 

"Oh yes. That's when my parents took me to a sleep clinic."

She's quiet for a moment, then, "Did it work?"

"The sheet?"

"The sleep clinic. Do you still sleepwalk?"

He raises his head and looks at her, smiling. "Nope. Never."

She grins back and winks. "Me neither."