Chemistry class had never lasted so long. While her teacher rattled on about polyatomic ions, Laurel’s mind was flipping through progressively worse and worse scenarios. David killed by trolls. David taken and tortured by trolls. David taken by trolls and used as a trap for her so she could be tortured. By the end of the class they all seemed not only believable but probable.

Laurel ran over to the social studies hallway, where Chelsea was just stepping out of history. “Have you seen David?” Laurel asked.

Chelsea shook her head. “I always assume he’s with you.”

“I can’t find him,” Laurel said, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

“Maybe he’s sick,” Chelsea suggested—Laurel had to admit—rationally.

“Yeah, but he’s not answering his cell. He always answers his cell.”

“He might be sleeping.”

“Maybe,” Laurel said. She returned to her locker and pulled out her American literature textbook. She looked at the cover and suddenly the thought of reading anything someone wrote a hundred years ago seemed like the most pointless thing in the world. She put it back and grabbed her purse instead. She just had to see if he was at home. It wouldn’t take that long—she probably wouldn’t even be counted absent if she hurried back. She was just reaching out to swing her locker door shut when Chelsea tapped her shoulder, startling her.

“There he is,” she said, pointing down the hall. David was walking toward her, a smile on his face and sunglasses hiding his eyes. Laurel was running before she could stop herself. She slammed into David and wrapped her arms around him, squeezing as hard as she could.

“Well, hello,” David said, looking down at her questioningly.

After an hour spent visualizing his demise, David’s casual tone made hot anger bubble up in her chest. She grabbed the front of his shirt in both fists and shook him a little. “You scared me to death, David Adam Lawson! Where the hell have you been?”

David glanced down the hall toward the front doors. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, not answering her question.

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s go somewhere, have some fun.”

She glanced around before saying quietly, “Ditch?”

“Oh, come on. You have literature this hour. You’re getting, what? An A plus, plus? Let’s go!”

She looked up at him, one eyebrow raised skeptically. “You want to take off and ditch class to go ‘have some fun’? Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?”

David just smiled. “Come on,” he said earnestly. “Just this once.”

“Okay,” she said. She was so relieved to see him, it didn’t really matter where he wanted to go. She was game. “Let’s do it!”

“Great,” David said, grabbing her hand. His gait was as close to skipping as Laurel had ever seen. “Come on!”

She had to admit that his excitement was infectious. She found herself laughing along with him as they raced out to his car.

“Where are we going?” she asked as she clicked her seat belt.

“It’s a surprise,” David said, a mischievous glint in his eye. He pulled out a long strip of cloth. “Close your eyes,” he said softly.

“You’re kidding me, right?” Laurel said in disbelief.

“Come on, now,” David said. “You trust me, don’t you?”

Laurel looked up at him, his sunglasses reflecting her own face back at her. “What’s up with the shades?” Laurel asked. “I can’t see your eyes in those things.”

“That’s the point, isn’t it?”

“What, preventing your girlfriend from seeing your eyes?”

“Not you specifically.” He grinned. “Anyway, I think they’re pretty sweet.”

“I think it would be pretty sweet if I could see your eyes, David.”

Without hesitation, he slipped off the sunglasses and looked at her, his soft blue eyes open and earnest. All of Laurel’s worries dissipated and she turned to let him blindfold her. “I trust you,” she said.

Once the blindfold was in place, Laurel sat back in the passenger seat and tried to pay attention to each turn David was making, determined to keep track of where she was. But after about five minutes it became obvious that he was going in circles, so she gave up. Soon the car bumped against a curb and came to a stop. After a few seconds her door opened and David gently helped her out, one hand at her waist and the other on her shoulder to stabilize her.

“David,” Laurel said tentatively, “I hate to be a spoilsport, but I hope we’re someplace safe. After the other night…well…you know.”

“Don’t worry,” David said, his mouth close to her ear. “I’ve brought you to the safest place in the world.” David removed the blindfold, and for a moment the sunlight was blinding as it filtered down through the leaves, giving everything an ethereal glow. They were standing in a small clearing ringed by the very last of the autumn flowers—orange gloriosa daisies, touches of purple coneflowers, and some blue Russian sage. In the middle, on a patch of thick, green grass, was a blanket with a couple of couch pillows and several bowls of sliced fruit. Strawberries, nectarines, apples, and a bottle of sparkling cider with beads of condensation that glinted in the gentle sunlight. Laurel smiled and turned around to confirm her suspicion—just past the edge of the trees, she could see her own backyard. Safest place in the world, indeed.