This is a short chapter (like the other one), I know. But I didn't get much enthusiasm last chapter :P That's why I almost discontinued. Please pretty please help me put here. I want to know what you think and any...advice? I go on Fanfic to improve my writing. You would really be helping my out if you reviewed. Thanks! :)

Jesse's POV

"Winnie!" I run to her. She flings herself in my arms. I am so spontaneously caught up in the moment I pick her off her feet and spin her. She gives a melodic laugh. The horrid feelings I felt before were melted away. But then I am left with an odd feeling of stupidity for thinking she was dead. I breathe in her precise, and aromatic scent of grass. "Been laying in the meadow lately?" I whisper.
"Jesse, I cannot believe you came back, Oh! I have so much to tell you! Where's Mae, Tuck and Miles?" When we pull back she has tears in her eyes.
I sigh, I put my hands on either side of her face and say the things I haven't mentioned in 5 years.
"'Course I'd come back for you Winnie! So did you do it? Did you drink the water?"
"Jesse..." she whispers. She takes my hands away from her face and holds them. But I don't pause. I keep rambling.
"I thought you were dead, you know? The- the tombstone. Are you staying with your parents? Do they know? Did you do it recently? 'Cause-"
"Jesse!" she raises her voice. "I need to tell you something."
"Yes, what is it?" I ask. Oblivious to the fact that she spoke with an uncertainty in her voice. How she is standing farther away from me than I prefer. But as soon as the thought enters my mind, I push it away. The happiness absorbs me and I can't make it go away. Nor do I want to.
"Jesse...I never drank the water. And...I-I'm engaged."

Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. My arms feel like noodles and slip put of her hands. Suddenly, I don't feel weak, or happy...Concrete. I feel like concrete. My face becomes an unemotional mask. Unreadable.
"Jessy, it happened this spring. In April. It is an arranged marriage. The tomb stone is just a marker...where I will be buried when I die."

"Will and when." I repeat her words of certainty. There's no maybe or ifs. I notice I am not breathing and force myself to inhale. Subconsciously I force myself to have a calm demeanor. I put my hands in my pocket and shrug.
"Honestly, I didn't think you would. Who would want to live forever, right?"
I purse my lips. I didn't mean to sound so sarcastic. But a bit of sarcasm slipped through my lips and she gives a frown. I grin at her and wink. But the fake grin makes me queasy in my stomach. Let her be happy. I think. It is odd really. I imagined myself coming here to swoop her off her feet. It has only been five years and I never imagined that at at 16 she would have been engaged. Never.
"Oh C'mon Winnie!" I poke her forehead where the creases have formed. "Life is too short to stay angry." her frown is immediately replaced by a smile like as if she understood an inside joke. I guess in our case it is. The soft summer breeze dances with her escaped wisps of divine hair. Like the blowing grass that she spend so much time in.
"So, would you like to go explore, or are you too goody-two shoe?" I ask daringly. I stretch out my arms and back up towards my horse.
"Oh god Jesse, your just the same." she laughs again and strides toward me.
"Till the day I day Winnie Foster." I get onto my horse, and grab Winnie's arm. Smoothly she gets up. She then raps her arms around my waist. My heart gives a little hammer and I think of the time when we took Winnie on that hot summers day five years ago. When she was a small eleven year old girl that even at 104, but 17 at heart, she made me feel alive. Happy to have a friend like her. One who was so curious, imaginative and adventurous as I. As we fly though the green, I wonder if she has lost that sense of curiosity. After all that she has been through. She is 16 now. It is possible. I begin to slow down as the trees get thinner.
"So tell me Jesse, find a gal yet?" I hear the softness in her voice, like a whisper of a blade of grass. But I hope she feel anxious at the question, waiting to hear the answer to a question she could have been pondering for a few years. The thing I really want to do is answer, "I met her five years ago."