Brent shook his head, “Never, never would you become your mother.” He leaned back on his arms, but my foggy mind made me lean towards him, “What makes you say that?”

Brent pulled his face even closer to mine as he whispered, “You’re afraid of her. Why would you become what you fear?” I closed my eyes then. All of this, the butterfiles in my stomach, what Brent was saying to me, the very scent of him, was making me dizzy.

I knew what was going to happen soon. I could sense it in the atmosphere, “Brent,” I managed to form that word. He then gently pressed his lips to mine and what seemed like a bolt of lightning shot through me from his touch. I fell limp, unabled to move, barely able to breath. Brent stopped then, much to my disappointment, astonishment in his eyes as he gasped, “I think we should get down from here.”

I could barely make it down the rope ladder, with my dizziness from Brent kissing me plus the swaying of the boat.