I wrap my arms around his neck. This time he doesn't pull away. "I missed you so much," I say.
He raises his hand to my cheek and brushes his fingers softly down my face. For such a tough guy, Avis touch has always been super gentle. "I can't resist you," he says softly.
I'm relieved and excited when his lips touch mine. I wrap my arms around his waist and try to ignore the feel of his rifle against my fingers. "When I urge him closer, our kiss gets more heated. As soon as his tongue touches mine, my insides feel like hot, molten lava.
My emotions are running high and I know a tear has escaped from the corner of my eye.
He pulls away a little. "Don't cry."
With the back of my hand, I quickly wipe whatever tears have escaped. "I'm not," I tell him.
He hesitates. "We need to talk. Seriously."
"About what?"
"About you being here. You said you'd be staying at the moshav."
I'm not going to lie to him. What would be the point?
"I'm here to be with you. To see you. To spend time with you."
"This is the military, Amy. I can't spend time with you here like we did last summer. I'm a soldier now."
"Well, now I'm a soldier too. At least for a little while. And we're spending time together right now, aren't we?"
"Zeheruit Gefen," Nimrod calls out, starding me. "Ata holech al chevel dok. n
"Sababa," Avi answers back, then says to me, "I can't do this."
"What did Nimrod just say?" I ask.
"He said I should watch out because I'm walking a thin line."
Nimrod frowns at us. Avi and I both stay silent, ignoring the warning, until Nimrod shrugs and walks away.
"What can't you do?" I finally answer. "Be specific."
Avi rakes his hand through his hair, even though in actuality he's just raking his hand over his growing-out buzz cut. He looks me straight in the eye and says, "I don't want you here."
I think my heart just dropped into the pit of my stomach. "Why not?"
A sound to our right makes Avi tense as he surveys the source of the noise. It's only an American guy from my unit on his way to the bathroom.
"I don't want to upset you, Amy, but... I can't do my job when I have to check up on you, worry about you, or make sure you're okay," he explains when the guy is out of sight. "You're a distraction."
"And what about that Liron girl in your unit? She's a girl. Why aren't you worried or distracted by her?"
"She's not my girlfriend. You are. And she's Israeli-- you're American."
"So if I was Israeli, you'd be fine with me being here?"
"If you were Israeli, you wouldn't have a choice. You'd be required to serve in the military. But you're American."
Yeah, technically. But... "My dad is Israeli, so that makes me half Israeli. And I'm Jewish. I've heard that every Jewish person can automatically get Israeli citizenship just because they're Jewish."
"But you're not Israeli, Amy. Tell me you're okay with trading in your designer sunglasses and designer clothes." He takes my hand in his and looks at my painted nails. "And your pink nails, for dirt buried under your fingernails."
I pull my hand away. "For your information, Avi, I don't even own designer sunglasses." Okay, so technically I owned them a few hours ago, before they fell into the pee/ poop hole in the bathroom. But I'd rather die than admit that fact. "And even though I do have painted nails, and I'd rather be at the beach than learning how to march in formation," I continue, examining my nails and noticing a new chip in my polish on my index finger that I'll have to fix later, "I'm doing this for you... for us."
"Gefen!" a guy yells out. That guy just happens to be none other than Sergeant B-S.
Oh, no! We're totally busted!
Avi straightens and whirls around. "'Ken, Hamefa'ked!' he says, then salutes to the sergeant.
Sergeant B-S barks out some command in Hebrew. Then he says, "Amy, go eat. Don't stop on your way there."
"It's my fault that Avi and I are alone," I tell Sergeant B-S. "I--"
Avi takes my elbow and gives it a gentle squeeze, cutting my explanation short. "Just do as he says. I would make that an order, because I'm a higher rank than you. But I know you better than to do that. So I'll say please."
"I'm sorry I got you in trouble," I tell Avi quickly, then run to the cheder ochel.
Once there, everyone is busy eating dinner. Miranda waves me over. "Amy, over here!" I sit next to her and she pushes a plate full of food at me. "Here. I got you food."
I don't feel like eating, but know I need my strength. I nibble on bread and choke down the Israeli salad (which doesn't have any lettuce--what's up with that? It's just tomatoes, cucumbers, and onions). Every second or two I glance at the door to see if Avi walks in. I wonder how much trouble he's in and wish we could have avoided getting caught altogether.
Five minutes later (which means I checked the front entrance about three hundred times), Avi walks in with the sergeant. Neither look happy.
Avi s gaze briefly meets mine before he sits with the rest of the Sayeret Tzefa squad.
"Where were you?" Tori says to me from the opposite side of the table.
"In the bathroom," I lie.