The Keeper

Strategy One

Rocco had been staring at his phone for almost an hour now since he returned from walking Anza to her room. He had been trying to decide what to report to Edrigu. He needs to call in his progress for the day and he did not want to lie. If he told Edrigu that he found Anza already, he might wonder why he has not told Anza's father about it.

He can use Manuel Soledad's own desire to have Anza come home voluntarily as the reason. But Edrigu might point out Manuel would want to do the convincing himself. All he had to do was let him know Anza's location.

Why he put himself up to the goal of bringing home a willing Anza is beyond him. With Manuel, he could pretend that he misunderstood his instruction, but with Edrigu, there won't be any ambiguity. If he gives him an order, he cannot go against it.

Unless...

No use delaying the inevitable. He dialed Edrigu's number. He picked up in two rings.

"Good evening, Rocco, how are you coming along in Basco?" Edrigu's voice was clear despite the distance.

"I'm good, sir. I just called in to report on my progress," he said. His tone controlled to tamp down his own uneasiness at the minor deceit that he would play on his mentor.

"Okay. Do you have solid leads about Manuel's daughter's location?" Edrigu asked.

"Yes, sir. I found her this afternoon," he replied.

"Wow! That was fast. Have you told Manuel? What is the arrangement? When are you due back here?" Edrigu's questions made him slightly panicked.

"I have not told Mr. Soledad that I found her. Ms. Soledad does not know that I am an Iztari, and I am afraid that if she finds out, she will disappear again. Her father wanted her to come home voluntarily, and telling him might not achieve that because he might show up here and spook her," he replied, hoping his voice does not give away his manipulation of the facts. "And if she disappears this time, we may not find her again," he added, for emphasis.

Edrigu was silent on the other line. Hopefully, he is considered his explanation logical.

"So, you want to convince her yourself?" Edrigu asked, his tone of clarification made his heart skip a beat.

"Yes, I was hoping to do that," he replied.

"Okay. So, what kind of help do you need from me?" Edrigu asked. And this time, it gave him hope.

"Maybe just help in reassuring Mr. Soledad so he need not worry about her, that I can bring her home," he said.

"How much time do you need to accomplish this?"

"A week, hopefully, since I would need to go to the mainland for sustenance by then," he replied. 

"Okay. I will take care of Manuel. In the meantime, I will send our counterpart in the mainland the instruction to prepare for your need," Edrigu said.

"Thank you, sir. I truly appreciate it," he replied, relieved.

"You're welcome," Edrigu said, and he hung up.

He felt marginally better and guiltier at the end of that conversation. He fell asleep justifying to himself that he just wanted to complete the mission as fully as possible.

***

Anza have been running the night's events repeatedly in her head. The exhilaration she had tonight was all new to her. This must be what having a crush is like - being perpetually aware of his presence, his words and actions. And the mental back and forth of being hopeful and cautious in giving meaning to each word and action that is part of this experience has kept her unbalanced.

Rocco is the first human she had had spent time with this long. She limited her previous encounters with them to brief conversations and tepid, trivial pleasantries. Her father's rules prevented her from forming friendships, even with her classmates. The warnings of potential pain when she cut ties with them when they Transit never far from her mind.

She blames her own inexperience for her susceptibility to Rocco's attentions. But her father did not raise an airhead, so it will be an insult to him if she allowed something like this to sway her within a few days of her being independent. Besides, depending on man's affection as a source of joy seems counterproductive for her aim to achieve independence.

Tomorrow, she promised herself, she will look at all the actions and words of Rocco to be nothing more than those from an older brother. Or a good friend... No, an older brother. Nothing can develop beyond a brother-sister relationship.

She fell asleep telling herself that people escape the friend-zone all the time.

***

She walked into the lobby, and Rocco was not there. She was searching for him when he came out of the gift shop at the corner. He was carrying a bottle of sunblock, which he handed to her.

"We are going to the beach?"

"We are going to a lighthouse. I don't know if it comes with the kind of beach that is good for swimming," he said.

"I do not have a swimsuit," she only had two jeans and three T-shirts in her belongings. Clothes were not her immediate priority.

"Do you want get your swimsuit? Just in case it was possible to swim there?"

"It's okay, I... don't want to swim today. There will be other opportunities. We are in an island, after all," she replied. Turning away from him as she slid the sunblock in her backpack.

Rocco looked at her closely, like he wanted to insist, but she stopped him with a question. "Shall we go?"

"We're leaving in a while. I'm still waiting for something," he said, a small smile on his face.

She nodded and sat down on the couch in the lobby. She feels slightly hungry, but did not think she would have enough time to order a sandwich. She was deciding whether to buy a bottle of water to tide her over, when one of the coffee shop staff came out with what looked like a small picnic basket. The staff handed the basket to Rocco, who thanked her in response.

Rocco beckoned to her, and she followed him out to where she knows he parked his motorbike. Rocco was tying the basket at the back of the bike when she joined him. She picked up the helmet she used the day before and put it on.

"Do you have a jacket?" Rocco looked at her flimsy T-shirt.

She shook her head. Rocco took off his own backpack and fished out a long-sleeved shirt.

"Put this on, the ride is long. You will get cold," he said.

He helped her slide her backpack off, holding the cotton shirt as she pushed her arm through the sleeves. It was soft and well-worn. It smelled of his natural scent and something citrusy. The man smells good.

It startled her when Rocco grasped the front of the shirt and buttoned her up like a child.

"Shall we?" he nudged her gently. She nodded and followed, straddling the bike behind him.

I'm a little sister to him. He's like the big brother that I never had. She kept repeating to herself as they zoomed along the country road, her arms wrapped around his waist loosely, her thumbs hooked on his belt loops.

The ride took three hours. Her bottom went uncomfortably numb, her throat dry, her stomach protesting in hunger, yet she did not ask for a break. She does not want to inconvenience him. Her job is to be his companion, not a dependent.

They drove through a combination of cliff-side roads that offered stunning views of the sea, and interior rural streets that oozed with quaintness. They zipped past towns that hummed with country life, past women sweeping front lawns, hanging laundry, kids playing with sticks and well-used toys, men walking purposely towards somewhere.

It was such a simple, very human existence that she was both sad and glad to be in the middle of it. Life in this island contrasted so sharply from her previous one, it is almost poetic that she had ended up here to start her new life as a human.

They turned right into one of the country roads and suddenly, there it was, the Basco Lighthouse, painted white, standing solitary and interesting at the edge of a hill, to guide the passing ships.

Their bike purred to a halt by the parking area in front of a closed cafe. She hopped off to allow Rocco to kick open the bike stand and secure it in place. She removed her helmet to better view her surroundings. The sea was deep aquamarine that blended into the intense blue of the sky. The air tasted of sea salt and adventure.

Impulsively, she ran closer to the safety railing that protected the visitors from falling off the cliff. The exceptional beauty and serenity of the scene drew her eyes. The sound of the waves in perpetual race to the shore, the blue sky that forced her to squint, and the light breeze that swept in from the sea soothed her ragged spirit. It seemed like the world was giving her permission to dare. To live.

She looked back to check where Rocco was. He was already untying the basket from behind the bike. He carried it with him as he approached her and pulled her towards the lighthouse. They stopped by the grassy area in front of the circular tower. She watched him unfold a cloth that she recognized to be the same tablecloth in the coffee shop at their lobby. He knelt down and quickly unloaded the contents of the basket - bottled water, sandwiches, and packed garden salad.

"Let's eat first," he tugged at her hand to make her sit down. She slumped ungracefully beside him, almost landing on his lap. Rocco laughingly gave him a bottle of water, cap loosened. She thirstily downed half, sighing in relief as the cool liquid soaked the parched tissues of her throat.

"I figured you were dehydrated," he said at her brief hesitation.

"How did you know?" she asked as she picked up a sandwich.

"Your lips are dry," he said, gently touching the bow of her lips. Her gaze flew to his as she touched her lips reactively, her fingers covering it in defense.

"It was a long... and windy ride," she mumbled, focusing her gaze on the sandwich in her hands, opening it to examine the filling. It smelled of lemon juice and dill. By the look of it, this is lobster roll sandwich, the specialty of the coffee shop, but one she has yet to taste.

"Eat. That looks delicious," Rocco said. He was holding a big cheeseburger.

She took a bite and almost moaned - the filling was chilled, the lobster meat was fresh and sweet, with a hint of mayonnaise, celery, lemon juice and dill. The bread was soft and the combination of flavors sublime.

Rocco was shaking his head slightly, his expression a mixture of regret and amusement, as he took a bite on his burger. She realized Rocco might have ordered the lobster roll for himself.

"Oh, did you want this?" she asked, feeling guilty that she did not even ask Rocco before she took the lobster roll.

He laughed. "It does not matter. It's just... your appetite is contagious."

"No, truly, we can share. I cannot finish this," she said, laying down the hotdog bun to look for a knife to cut the roll in half. Rocco stayed her movements, his cool hand on hers.

"No need to slice it. Eat and enjoy. I can finish if you have a leftover," he said.

"Won't that be... off-putting... to eat my leftover?" she asked.

"You do not have rabies, so I am not worried," he said. She would still protest, but he stopped her by lifting her chin to close her mouth. "Stop arguing, little one, just eat. I know you did not have breakfast this morning," he said.

Little one? "How did you know?" she asked, worried that she looked starving.

"I asked. They said you had not come down to breakfast," he shrugged.

"Oh," she said. She does not know what to think about that. Rocco has a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he continued to eat. She followed his lead and finished her lobster roll. Little one, really? Like a puppy?

***        

Rocco watched Anza surreptitiously. She eats like a child would, with full enjoyment. She's prim and proper when she's conscious of what she's doing, as if stopping herself from being too enthusiastic, from immersing in the moment. And yet, when she forgets, when the experience overcomes her reserve, she soaks it in, full senses deep. It was stirring to behold.

Anza reminded him of that young elephant that he saw in Thailand a few years ago. It grew up tied to a metal pole, so it got used to the limited movement that the length of its leash allowed. It got so used to being bound; it stayed within that range even though it had doubled in size and could easily uproot the pole if it so desired.

Anza is the elephant that walked beyond the range, uprooting the pole. However, the experience was so new to her it scares her. She can still feel the leash attached to her. She would never be truly free until the muscle memory of being reined in faded and left her completely.

She roused something soft and intense in him, a sense of protectiveness that he had never felt for anyone before. She's like a kitten, all fluffy fur and claws; like a filly, ready to bolt anytime she gets spooked. And Anza is a hair's breadth away from bolting.

Anza reclined on the picnic cloth, stretched her arms overhead, arching her back, her actions distinctly feline. He realized that she must have been sore from the ride. She was riding rigid the whole time, despite the relaxed hold she had around his waist. He remembered feeling let down she does not feel comfortable enough to lean on him, but then, they've only known each other for less than twenty-four hours. It would be odd if she had no caution.

With her eyes closed, he can freely observe her face. She looked very young, a bud still far from full bloom. Her youthful features, her size, her vulnerability calls to his masculine protective instinct. At that moment, he understood why his father sheltered her the way he did.

She stirred as he was putting away the remnants of their lunch. She got up and collected the cloth, folded it and put it in the basket. She was going to take it to the bike, but he took her by the hand and towed her toward the lighthouse. He placed the basket on the wooden bench by the circular stairs.

"Ready?" he asked, smiling.

"We can go up?" she asked, her eyes round with undisguised excitement.

"Yes, we can. The view is best on the top," he said. She hesitated for a moment, gazing up. Her expression a mixture of apprehension and thrill.

"Let's go," he said, tugging at her hand, making her choice easier.

With a giggle, she followed him up the narrow, winding stairs up to the top, their ascent in a rush. Halfway through, Anza stopped, holding her sides, slightly bent at the waist.

"Hang on," she gasped. Her face was flushed and glistening.

He complied and gave her a couple of minutes' rest. Then tugged at her, "Hurry, you can take as many pictures as you want, while we have the lighthouse to ourselves."

"How do you know that I enjoy taking pictures," she asked innocently.

Oops! "Don't all teenagers do?" he said, casually. "Don't you have any social media?"

"Sure, I do. But it's only for my consumption," she replied. He already knew that as he had seen her page before.

"Don't you have followers?" he asked. They were on the last five steps.

She did not respond, but he sensed that she shook her head.

"So, if I follow you, will you allow me?" he asked, making room for her to step onto the platform, to the view.

She could not respond. The view had distracted her, leaving her agape, eyes wide.

"Wow!" she breathed. That drew a wide smile from him. Her delight gave him pleasure.

"Wow, indeed!" he said, as he looked at the horizon. The sun is no longer overhead. The sky, where gaps between patches of thick clouds showed, were clear blue. He can smell an oncoming rain, feel its pressure in the atmosphere.

He looked down at her and noticed the slightly regretful look on her face. He realized that since he met her; he has never seen her use her cell phone.

"Don't you want to take pictures?" he asked.

"No," shaking her head sadly. "It's all right. My social media is not that important right now."

"You do not have to post it yet, until you're ready." he said gently. "It may be a long time before we return here, so take the pictures now."

She looked even more torn between wanting to and caution. "I don't want to turn my phone on," she said.

"Why?" he asked, frowning.

"My father might track my phone to find out where I am," she said with a sigh. That surprised him, that she knew enough about how cellphone technology works was unexpected. And she was right.

He took out his own phone and handed it to her.

"What's this for?" she asked, her eyebrows raised quizzically.

"Use mine. And click away," he said. "I will transfer the photos to your phone later."

"Oh, thank you!" she said, excitedly. On impulse, she bounced on her feet and launched herself into his arms.

"You're welcome," he said, hugging her back. "Now go, while the light is good. The clouds are rolling in," he added, pointing at the sky.

"Yes, boss!" she replied, gleefully. She spent the next fifteen minutes taking shots after shots, deleting those that did not meet her standards, and showed him the images she liked. She has a good eye for photography.

"Are we going somewhere else after here?" she asked, handing his phone back.

"No," he replied, putting the phone in his pocket. "Sunset is beautiful here. The locals highly recommended it."

"That would be awesome," she said, her eyes lighting up once again.

"Let's hope the rain does not ruin that," he said.

***

Luck was with them. Anza had taken enough photos before the rain came. It arrived just as the sun sank across the horizon. It started as a light drizzle, then quickly turned into a downpour. The wind drove the rain towards them, forcing them inside for shelter. They sat together on the floor, by the glass window, watching the dark columns of rain undulate with the wind.

Anza's jeans were soaked, as are the hem of the shirt he loaned to her. Within minutes, she was shivering. He felt the tremors run down her body. They were shoulder to shoulder.

"You're cold," he said, gently pulling her closer to keep her warm. Her discomfort was significant enough that she did not resist. She gladly leaned into him. He was gratified when she placed her head on him, sighing as she did. His arm went around her properly to anchor her better, her head cradled at the crook of his arm and shoulder.

The hum of the downpour was hypnotic as they both watched mother nature express itself in the churning waters of the sea and in the darkening sky. Rocco knew Anza had dozed off. Her weight settled fully on him. He centered her body and head on his chest, to warm her better and make her more comfortable.

The rain droned on for hours, lulling him to sleep. With her limp, warm body nestled in his, both his arms around her, he was cocooned in contentment. He was at peace. He held her to him, this delicate creature with the tensile strength of titanium, now temporarily in his keeping. Gladness flooded his soul.

***        

Anza surfaced from her nap slowly, her awareness first centered on the warm flesh under her cheek and the steady beating of a heart. It took her a moment to realize that she's half reclined on Rocco, his arm loosely cradled her. He is still asleep. She was reluctant to leave the comfort of his arms, but she gingerly eased herself out, trying not to wake him.

The slow flash of the light overhead reminded her of the cameras of old. The window reflected her image intermittently back at her. It showed her hair in disarray. She pulled the hair tie off, combing her fingers through her tresses, massaging her scalp.

The rain had stopped. They should probably go home now. It's dark and their ride is long. And she's hungry. Maybe she can ask Rocco to stop by a convenience store for something to eat and drink. She prodded Rocco gently, trying to rouse him.

"Hmm..?" he blinked sleepily, looking up at her. He seemed disoriented, staring at her for a while.

"Shouldn't we go now? It's night and we have a long way to go," she whispered.

"Don't you want to wait for dawn? You can take photos of sunrise to match your sunset shots," he murmured, sitting up and stretching his limbs.

"I would, if I wasn't feeling hungry," she replied, getting up. "Do you think we can stop by somewhere for food?"

Rocco smiled indulgently. He glanced at his watch. "I can do better. There is the cafe nearby." He jumped up and pulled her to her feet.

"The blue and white building?" she asked, gathering her hair to a ponytail. "Isn't that closed?"

"It opens at 6 p.m.," he said. He took the hair tie from her. "Leave your hair down, it will help keep you warm," he said, smoothing the strands away from her face. An affectionate gesture that she found sweet.

Hand in hand, they walked down the circular stairs. There were the only two souls in the lighthouse. The weather discouraged tourists. The picnic basket was where they left it, the motorbike still parked by the front of the cafe that is now open. A car was nearby.

There were three people in the cafe, two teenage boys and a girl. They all swiveled and gaped at Rocco and her as they walked in. She felt self-conscious, as the two boys' interest was firmly fixed at her. She glanced up at Rocco. His face was impassive, but he was looking at the two boys as well. A slight tension in his body. She realized that Rocco was wary and on guard.

The wait staff greeted them and ushered them to a table at the other end of the room. The guys were still looking at her. Rocco pulled the chair where she can see them peripherally. He sat beside her, facing them directly. He looked relaxed, but she can sense the slight tension that infused his body earlier was still there.

She wanted to look at the other table, to see what has caused his stress, but she did not want to be rude about it. The menu proved to be a useful shield, as she peered at them from behind it. The two boys were still throwing glances her way. She then saw that the girl with them had been looking at Rocco. She's older than herself, with waist-length, shiny, straight hair. Her interest in Rocco was as obvious as the interest her companions were directing at her. That bothered her.

She glanced at Rocco. He's looking at the menu, seemingly uninterested in the woman's gaze across the room.

"What would you like to have, little one?" Rocco asked, his eyes still on the menu. "Are you starving?" he added.

She was, earlier. At the moment, her annoyance had lessened her appetite. But she will not let the other woman ruin her dinner.

"Yes," she said, drawing Rocco's attention to her as she pointed to the chicken dish on his menu.

"Okay. Is that enough?" he said, his gaze going back to the menu after a cursory glance at her. "No soup or salad?"

"Yes. That's enough," she replied, her irritation growing. She watched him place their order with the service staff, as she thought of ways to keep him from exchanging looks with the woman ogling him. The odious girl is now waiting for a chance to catch his eye, a small smile on her face. 

"You look irate, little one," he said, ticking the side of her nose with the ends of her hair. "Is that hang-ger?" his tone teasing.

"Hang-ger?" she frowned in confusion. "You mean hunger?"

"No. Hang-ger. Hunger-induced rage," he said, his eyes twinkling.

"Oh... No, I am not..." she began heatedly, but she stopped when she realized it's a better explanation for her attitude, "I guess I am..." smiling at him weakly.

"A bit of patience, little one," Rocco said laughingly, reaching out to and gently pinched her cheek.

Pleased with their exchange, her brain scrambled for ways to keep him engaged. None of her previous experience with her dad seemed applicable. Then she remembered their deal. "Don't I owe you stories for the meals?" she asked.

"Oh, yeah," Rocco said, his smile wide.

"So, what would you like to know?" she said, pleased with her success.

"Tell me about your childhood," he said, scooting his chair a tad closer, an encouraging smile on his face.

She hesitated for a bit, thinking how much she can divulge without giving too much. She decided not to tell him her father's identity.

"I'm an only child. My mother died of birth complications. My dad raised me alone for the first five years of my life, and then he married my stepmom," she began casually. She paused as their drink is served.

"How was your relationship with your parents? Your dad in particular?" he asked, sipping his coffee carefully.

"It's a great relationship. My dad doted on me, but he was... overprotective," she replied, stirring the straw in her iced tea.

"How so?" Rocco's expression was intent.

She felt a twinge of guilt at the thought of talking about her father to a stranger. She sighed, "I am not allowed to make friends, not even my classmates."

"And you have no friends of your own age?" Rocco's coffee was temporarily forgotten, his focus on her total.

"None... just my cousin, rather, my step-cousin Drew. He's eighteen. He's the only one I am... close to," she said, unable to explain how superficial her relationship with her cousin is.

"Does your cousin know? What you did?" he asked, his expression appraising.

She shook her head. "No, we are not that close," she replied, taking a sip of the iced tea to loosen the knot in her chest.

"Okay," Rocco seemed to understand. He reached out and covered her fidgeting hands with his. "How about your step mom? Do you get along with her?"

She nodded. "Yes, she treats me like her real daughter. She's light and airy. Nothing bothers her. In short, we are so different."

Rocco said nothing, just continued to look at her, waiting patiently for her next words.

The arrival of their food interrupted their conversation. Rocco's eyebrows knitted in quick reaction, but it was gone immediately. His face became a pleasant mask when he turned to the waiter.

The tone of their dinner changed. It became lighthearted. She was waiting for him to ask questions to cue her to return to their previous conversation, but he kept their conversation friendly and casual.

Rocco ordered grilled lobster for himself. And it reminded her she stole his lobster roll sandwich earlier.

"I'm sorry," she said, needing to apologize.

Rocco looked up in surprise. "For what?"

"I took your lobster roll this morning," she said, pointing to his dish.

He shrugged. "It's no big deal. Actually, seeing you eat the roll made me crave for lobster," he said, scooping a mouthful from the shell, and dipping it in the lemon butter sauce. "Oh... that is good," his voice deepened in appreciation.

"So, you really bought the roll for me, and the burger for yourself?" she persisted, wanting reassurance.

Rocco chewed and swallowed before he replied, "I bought both for either of us. If you had chosen the burger, I would have happily eaten the lobster. It was a simple matter of getting something I thought we would both like."

"Really?... Are you..."

He cut her off, "Anza, eat your food. It's getting cold."

She smiled at him. In return, he gave her lock of her hair a slight tug, and continued on with his meal. They spent the rest of the dinner with increased camaraderie between them. They shared each other's food. She cut him a portion of her chicken and placed it on his plate. He reciprocated with his lobster, but insisted that he took a bite from his fork.

In her head, that last act could be sexy and romantic, or platonic - a big brother feeding his kid sister.

***

With two steaming cups of take-away coffee, Rocco drew Anza to her feet. The coffee shop will close soon. They've decided to sit outside where they had lunch earlier. As Rocco opened the door, a blast of frigid night air hit him. Behind him, Anza shivered.

He gave Anza the coffee cups to hold, and pulled her into his jacket, sharing his body warmth. Anza positively sighed, and it made him smile. They made their way back to the patch of grass in front of the lighthouse, the table cloth tucked under his jacket.

The ground was wet from the downpour. They ended up huddled on a relatively dry patch on a huge rock, their backs against the stone walls at the caretaker's house, partially shielding them from the icy wind.

"What brought you here in Batanes?" Anza asked suddenly, blowing on the hot coffee.

He took a sip before he answered. "Nothing in particular. Part of a bucket list..." he shrugged. He wanted to avoid this topic. He does not want to lie to her. It's a good thing she's too young to be suspicious, to know how to probe for information.

Anza looked up from her cup and stared at him. "Will you tell me about your childhood?" she asked.

His heart leapt at the question. "Not much to tell. I was an orphan..." he said. "My mentor took me under his wing when I was five years old, sent me to school, gave me with a job. Essentially everything a young person with no parents need to survive and thrive," he added, adopting a relaxed posture to hide the fact that discussing his past is not a pleasant subject for him.

She does not seem convinced with his facade, but he cannot tell. Apart from the direct gaze she's giving him, her normally expressive face was carefully blank. His little one has learned to mask her feelings. Not good.

"It must have been hard," she said, her eyes never leaving him.

Darn! He took a deep breath before responding, "Yes, I guess it was..." Giving brief replies might discourage her to ask for more.

"So, what do you do now?" she asked, her head inclined to the side.

Oh, f**k! She's persistent. He took a big gulp on his lukewarm coffee now to buy time to plan his response.

"I'm in between jobs," he said. That was technically true. "I return to it in a month or so," he added.

"A month? So, are you staying here for that long?" Anza was looking at her own cold cup, her voice slightly stilted.

"Maybe... it depends," he replied to the top of her head, wishing he could see her expression.

"On what? I thought this trip was part of your bucket list?" Wish granted, she was looking at him again.

"Well, the items in my bucket list are not simple, one-layered things to be ticked off," he replied.

Anza was nodding slowly, but whether she accepted and understood what he said was unclear. It seemed to be an automatic action that she does when she is trying to make sense of the information she received.

They both turned at the direction of voices coming closer to them. The group of humans at the coffee shop are now going their way. Anza was looking at him questioningly. She cannot make out what they were saying. His superior hearing understood them exactly. The three were looking for them. The boys were keen on meeting Anza, and the girl was interested in him.

He sighed. They would have to deal with these juveniles, unless they leave the lighthouse. But he promised her the sunrise... so...

"Oh... do you think they're coming this way?" Anza asked, her nose wrinkled in disapproval.

"I'm afraid so, little one. You would have to put an effort to being sociable," he said, pulling her closer in a mock head lock.

"I don't know how to be sociable," she replied, trying to untangle herself from his hold. He could almost imagine her pouting, except she is not the pouting kind.

"Then this is a good time to learn," he said, releasing her.

Anza combed her hair back, twisting to face him. Her brows were drawn in worry. And he realized that she truly is concerned.

"You did very well with me. You were not shy," he reminded her. Her frown deepened.

"You were different. You did not give me time to think, I forgot that I did not know how to be sociable," she said.

"Well, do what you did with me. Just answer their questions... Don't frown," he said, touching her forehead, easing the crease from her brows. "And, I am here, I will help you."

Three minutes later, the group found them.

"Hi, guys! Are you waiting for the sunrise, too?" the girl of the group was leading the pack, wearing a wide, friendly smile.

"Yes," he said, nodding. He surveyed the group standing ten feet away. She was carrying a bottled water in both hands. One of the guys behind her was carrying an extra bottle as well. A quick look on the bottle caps told him that both bottles were unopened.

"Can we join you?" she asked, paused right in front of him. Her action clearly meant her question was just for him, despite the word 'we'.

He glanced at Anza to make sure she was okay. Her face showed no emotion, but he can feel the slight tension emanating from her. He almost said no.

"Sure, join us," he said, gesturing toward the space in front of them. The soldier in him wanted them where he can see them.

"I'm Charisse," the girl said, giving them a short wave with the bottle.

"I'm Rocco," he replied.

"I'm Anza," Anza said. The tension in her shoulders increased, but her voice was calm.

"I'm Diego," the taller of the two boys said.

"I'm Charlie," the other boy said with a smile. "Would you like some water?" he said, offering the bottle in his hand to Anza.

He intercepted it. He wanted to make sure it was safe. The bottle is slightly chilled. He unscrewed the cap and handed it to Anza.

"Thank you," Anza said, directing her remark to Charlie. The boy's expression was telling. He was unsure how to react to his protective gesture. He does not care, he wanted this boy pre-warned that he is here to protect Anza.

"Can we sit with you?" Charisse asked, eyeing the space in between Anza and him. She obviously wanted him to scoot a little to make room for her. He nodded, but before Charisse can act on it, Anza moved nearer and covered that coveted gap. She took the option away and made her opinion about the situation clear. That made him smile inside.

Charisse, to her credit, was unfazed. She chose to sit in front of him, sitting cross-legged. The two boys sat closer to Anza. Charlie at Anza's left and placed his water bottle on the stone they were seated on. The available space was not big enough for him. Diego positioned himself right in front of Anza.

"So, where are you guys from?" he asked. Time to do due diligence.

"We are from Baguio," Charisse replied, her full smile was meant to disarm. "Diego and I are cousins. Charlie here is Diego's friend and fraternity brother, and my classmate," she continued.

"What brought you here?" he asked.

"We are on holiday, a break from school," Charisse replied, her free hand now playing with her own hair.

"Which school do you go to?" Anza's question was relaxed. He glanced at her and noticed that her posture is straight and almost defensive. Anza is asserting herself.

"Oh, U.P. Baguio," Charisse said, looking at Anza the first time, her smile tight at the corners. The girl is annoyed at Anza. She sees her as a competition.

"How about you, Anza? Which school do you go to?" Diego asked.

"I do not know yet. I have not enrolled for the next school year," Anza replied. He cannot help but admire her coolness. When it comes to hiding her background, her years of practice as an Erdia showed.

"So, are you from here? Or are you visiting like we are?" Charlie asked. Rocco could see the competition between the two boys. And he does not like it.

"We are visiting," Anza's curt reply was guarded, as usual.

"How long are you here for?" Charisse asked, her gentle touch on his knee was meant to get his attention.

Anza's interest in his reply to Charisse's question was obvious. Her gaze fully turned on him.

"For however long it takes to accomplish what we want to do here," he replied, answering for both of them.

"Are you... together?" Charisse's asked tentatively. It was clear that she wanted to know exactly her chances. The two boys were also keen to find out if Anza is available. He chose to misunderstand the question.

"Yes. We came here together," he replied, glancing at Anza. She gave him a slow blink of annoyance. A huff of exhalation followed as she faced Diego.

"So, Anza, are you going to University this coming school year?" Diego asked, glad to have her looking at him.

She shook her head. "11th grade," she replied.

"Oh, you're about... 17?" he asked. "I'm 18, turning 19," he volunteered.

"I'm sixteen," she replied.

"Wow, you must have started school early," Charlie said, unwilling to stay in the background.

"No, I skipped first grade," she replied casually. That was news to him. Her records did not mention it.

"You must be smart, then," Charlie's comment had a hint of condescension. He felt Anza's defensive barriers rise. Charlie was still smiling at her, unaware of the effects of his words. He, on the other hand, could see plainly the glitter of annoyance in her eyes. That pleased him. His little one is a fighter.

"There are worse things than being smart," Anza said, her tone clipped. Charlie's face fell as he realized his mistake.

"I agree with Anza. Being a basketball jock, for one," Diego wisely picked up the opening that Charlie's gaffe created. Diego gave her a conspiratorial smile. Anza smiled back at him. Diego scored a point there. That irritated him.

A cool breeze swept over them, making Anza shiver. She's the only one among them unprepared for the cold temperature.

"Do you want my jacket, Anza?" Charlie offered, poised to remove his windbreaker.

He would not allow that. He took the picnic cloth tucked inside his jacket earlier. He shook it out and draped it over Anza's shoulder. It was warm from his body heat. He took advantage of the opportunity and placed his arm around her, pulling her closer to him. He can better to protect her like this.

Really? said a small voice in his head.