Except that I wasn't alone. There was a kind face staring into my own, smiling at me. A hand outstretched in offering. So harmless, if I would only just trust. Yet my trained eyes saw what was sneaking in the shawdows of unassuming goodness. Oh yes, there was a truer danger here in the sweet looks and the caring smiles. More so than that of thorns and thrashing waves.
I could not allow myself to be fooled by the enticing beauty, so I pushed. As hard as I possibly could, I pushed the affection away from me. I pushed until I fell backwards. And it hurt. But as I looked up, the person was still looming, still a tender figure, a look of amusement in its eyes. A hand stretched out farther this time, so to reach me, prostrate on the ground. After moments of torn silence I gave in. What could it hurt, to allow a stranger to help me in the slightest of ways? It felt uncomfortable and thrilling, all at once, to put a morsel of faith in someone I truly didn't know. But it didn't mean I liked them.
As soon as I was on my feet, I pulled my hand away. But it wouldn't come. At first I assumed it was because the gentle grip had tightened, forcing my appendage to stay. I looked into the brown eys, feeling panicked and afraid, but the eyes were still calm and kind. Then I saw that my very own hand was the traitor. Tightly I held onto the soft palm, against my will. My hand liked the strange hand and it wanted to stay where it was. Stupid hand.