Sparrow knew it was him when someone tapped on her door at 5:45 the next evening; everybody just barged in around Haven. Only Thomas would knock.

Punctual and elegant in black cargo pants and a black fitted tee, the sight of him made her senses dance as she opened the squeaky door. "Hey," she greeted him, feeling a pulse already in her neck, and a warmth in her belly that revealed exactly how much she'd been excited for their date.

Not a date. Friends, remember?

With his eyes dark in the late summer afternoon light, he absorbed her appearance while stepping forward. "Hey. You look beautiful."

He kissed her once on the cheek, softly, a perfectly platonic kiss. So why did it explode against her skin, her needy body eagerly begging for more? Shaking her head, she thought, I have to get a grip. "Thanks."

His eyes roamed around the front rooms, with the dirty carpet and graffitied walls. Sparrow remembered he hadn't seen inside Haven the previous day, and he seemed to catalogue the lack of TV and bookshelves made of driftwood. "Your home... It's very you."

"I'll take that as a compliment," she grinned.

"Good. I meant it to be."

"The others are already down at the beach – let's go."

"Wait, I have something for you." He produced a bouquet of hand-picked flowers from behind his back. "They're not bought, I didn't think you'd like that. The guest-house where I'm staying has beautiful front gardens, and the guy next door, he grows these."

Pointing at the stunning red bloom in the centre of the bunch, Thomas said, "He saw me picking, and gave me one. Eric is a cool old guy, actually. We had a few beers over lunch today. Anyway, I hope you like them."

She touched the scarlet lily, with two flowers open and two yet to reveal themselves. Her breath hitched as she tried not to feel swept away by the simple gesture. "Thank you," she said, her voice quiet. "They're gorgeous."

Looking up, she saw how close Thomas was, how the final rays of the setting sun through the windows cast them both in a fiery hue, as if they flamed for one another. Her policy of living a life of yes meant that with any other guy, Sparrow would have kissed him at that moment, to know how he tasted, to entwine their energy.

But Thomas isn't a normal guy, and I have to be smarter than that, or there's only going to be hurt in the future for us. "I'm going to put these in some water," she said, pulling away, feeling the tug of their twisted emotions draw between them.

Racing into the kitchen, she slid the stems into an old pasta jar, then drank deeply from her own glass. The water settled her. She was an earth sign, and water settled earth. Earth could even benefit from fire, able to withstand the heat, and give fire the grounding it needed.

Earth does not do well with air. The man in her lounge room was as strong an air sign as she'd ever met; ungrounded, unattached, untamed. I need to remember it. She slapped the glass on the bench top and she was ready. "Thomas? Let's go!"

She led him through the house and out the back door, grabbing her long canvas bag from beside the back door. They picked their way along the ragged garden path, trying to avoid looking at the swing where they'd kissed the day before, and through the tired wooden gate in the corner of the yard. As Sparrow twisted through, her short black skirt caught on a splintery paling.

"Here, let me get that." Thomas reached out and deftly loosened the fabric, his fingers dangerously close to her upper thighs. Beneath her simple black tank, she could feel her body reacting at his nearness, her nipples hardening. Thank God it's almost dark.

"Cheers!" she said, a little too brightly. What is wrong with me? She was acting like a love-sick teen, or a sex addict. Her long hair was braided flat against her head, so she couldn't even hide her burning cheeks. The best she could do was turn her face towards the beach and pretend like nothing was happening. "So, this is something we do every Sunday. We stay down here for a few hours, then grab something to eat. Does that sound okay?"

"It sounds perfect."

Sparrow ignored the way his rolling voice sent a fresh wave of goose bumps down her arms, and tried to steer the conversation in a direction to remind herself of why she had to keep her feelings neutral. "Back to work tomorrow?"

"Yep."

"That'll be good, then? At least you won't be bored anymore." See how different we are? she told herself. He's a work-a-holic, he could never understand your life.

"Actually, I think you're rubbing off on me," he said, with a shy grin. They finally cleared the sand dunes and he stooped to remove his shoes as he said, "Today was good! I went for a swim on the beach, then lunch with Eric, and this afternoon, I read a book. I never read books!"

Damn. It means nothing. "Well, good. Look, there's the gang."

A cluster of people sat around their beach fire pit. The Haven crew had built it a few years back, and the council allowed them to keep it, as long as no one complained. Kimble and Sparrow had dragged tree stumps and logs in a loose circle surrounding the deep rock-lined pit above the tide-line, and it was one of her favourite places in the world, especially in the early evening.

"Thomas!" Will was sitting beside his dad, the bearded man threading marshmallows onto a stick for his son, but when Will caught sight of the guest, he leapt up. "You're here!"

"I am – and I have something for you." Thomas pulled an iPhone and charger from his back pocket. "That's yours, dude. I've loaded it up with twelve months of credit, and I put a $100 iTunes card in the case for you as well. Enjoy!"

Will suddenly looked much younger, a little boy who'd just opened his present from Santa to find it was more amazing than he'd ever dreamed. "Th-thank you, Thomas." He stuck out his hand formally, and Thomas shook it, a wave of understanding passing between them.

His new phone in his hand, Will ran back to his father. "Dad! Dad! Look!"

Sparrow watched him, tears in her eyes. Thomas turned to her, grinning, but his smile fell when he saw her face. "Sparrow? What is it?"

"What you just did... That kid, he'll never forget it." She blinked hard, willing the water to recede. "He and his dad have had such a hard few years, and I know that giving an old phone away means nothing to you, but for him, you're like his fairy godmother."

"I'm glad," said Thomas, the night stealing across his face and casting his expression in shadow, "but you're wrong. It did mean something to me. It felt good to do something for a good kid." He raised his hand and wiped away the single tear that had tracked its way down her face. "You see me as a soulless corporate gun, but the heart of my job is looking after people."

Her skin sizzled where the pad of his fingers had brushed against her cheek. She wanted him to touch her again, but the moment was broken as Will's dad, Mark, wandered over to thank him.

While the two men introduced themselves, Sparrow moved to the firmer sand by the water line and began to set up her gear. Will ran over, tucking his new phone reverently into his pocket. "Hey, Sparrow! Can I help?"

"Sure – can you light this candle?"

"Yup!" She handed him a huge white candle in a bucket to protect it from the wind, and he dashed off with it.

Sparrow turned to the large jar she'd set in the sand, and poured a few litres of citronella oil into it. The pungent smell surrounded her, warding off every mozzie in a ten kilometre radius.

Reaching back into hery bag, she pulled out her favourite fire staff, the one tipped with four inch wicks on either end of its five foot length. Dipping one wick into the oil, she watched dark bubbles boil up around the blackened material as the citronella permeated the wick.

Will returned. "Done! Can I have a go this week?"

"If your dad says it's okay, and you'll have to practice with a stick first, so go find one."

"Dad!" Will yelled, sprinting off again, passing Thomas who was making his way down to where she stood.

"He's such a calm, unflappable kid that one, isn't he?" Thomas observed, a smile in his voice.

"Kids are such pure spirits. They just feel everything, and they let you know too. We lose that ability as adults. I think it's sad." Sparrow flipped the staff over, drenching the other wick, while trying to keep the staff as level as possible so the top end didn't drip oil down the grip.

"So, are you going to tell me what you're up to down here?" he asked.

"Take a seat, and you'll see," she said.

"Dad says it's fine!" shouted Will, slashing back through the sand. "And I'm gonna find a stick in a minute, but I want to watch you do the fireball first."

Thomas said, "Fireball?" as if he'd never heard the word before.

"Yeah, dude! Here, sit here!" Will dragged Thomas over to nearby log and the two of them stared up at her like expectant children.

Feeling her own inner-child preparing to dance, Sparrow moved a few steps backwards. With her toes grounding into the packed sand, she held the wick to the candle inside the bucket and watched the flame catch. When the entire wick was enveloped in flame, she spun it around and lit the other end.

With both wicks alight, she held the staff horizontally, with the grip between her two palms. The beach fell away, and there was only her and the fire.

Thrusting one palm forward and the other back, Sparrow threw the staff into the air, spinning it horizontally. As it spun, the excess oil flew off in spirals, which caught the flame and exploded into twin fireballs above her head. The heat against her face felt like the sun, like the warmth of a loving universe, and she barely heard the people watching gasp as the flames roared.

She caught the staff neatly as it fell into her hands, and immediately began to twirl it around her body. Letting the narrow stick wind between her fingers, she started slowly, the heat from the wicks skimming past her head and ankles. Moving fire was loud and the roar the flames created as they slashed through the air was soothing, a white noise blocking out any bad thoughts.

Spinning faster, Sparrow moved the stick from hand to hand, passing it over her head while pirouetting with her feet. Her hips joined the rhythm, the twirling becoming a dance to music only she could hear. Speed increasing, she threw the staff high again, catching it, spinning it so swiftly, both flames became one bright circle surrounding her, an unending whirl of light that traced around her body.

After a few minutes, the oil burned out on one end, the wick leaving an after-image of trailing smoke. Bringing the other end to her face, she blew out the gutting flame, and suddenly, all was dark again. Breathing deeply, Sparrow looked up to the sky, thankful that no matter what else she might have lost in her life, she had things to be grateful for, things like this.

Up the beach, the others burst into applause; Kimble, Meg, Mrs Hently and Mark from beside the fire, and Will from the log. Only Thomas was silent, his silver eyes round with wonder.

"I'm gonna get my stick now," cried Will, jogging off again. Where his energy came from, Sparrow could only wonder.

She moved back to the oil jar, refuelling the wicks for a second round. Thomas moved beside her, walking carefully as if he'd just realised she was either dangerous or magical. "You wield fire."

"I do." She was proud of her talent with a staff and wanted to share this part of herself with him. "It's called fire dancing. There's a ton of different variations, balls you can swing around you, called poi, or shorter twin sticks like you see them use in Hawaii. But I love my long staff."

"Donatello was always my favourite Ninja Turtle."

"Mine too," she said, the heat rising in her cheeks. "Do you want to have a go?"

"Uh... Isn't it dangerous?"

Sparrow loved the note of concern in his voice, a big man confronted with a new learning that worried him. She pointed to Will, spinning around further along the beach with a fairly straight branch. "I make Will practice with a stick as a warm up, because kids are fearless and he always goes too fast. But I'll help you with the lit staff."

"What if I burn myself?"

"It's actually pretty hard to do." She quickly relit the wicks, then banged one flaming end against the bare flesh of her arm. Thomas flinched, but she showed him her undamaged skin, bearing only a slight sooty smudge. "You might singe some arm hair; that's about it."

"Okay. Tell me what to do." He was nervous, but trying. In that moment, she caught a flash of how much he could truly change his life it he wanted to, and it both thrilled and unnerved her.

"Cool." She threw the staff high, spinning off the excess oil in another burst of flame, then passed him the stick. "Hold it in front of your body horizontally."

"Alright, now what?"

"Now, dip one side to your left, and let one end fall low."

"What?" His hand was wavering now, and Sparrow couldn't think how to make her instructions clear enough. She realised she'd have to teach him the way she taught everyone else; by touch.

Standing close behind him, Sparrow threaded her arm over his. "Like this. Low to the left, let the other end follow, and then bring it across to the right, do the same thing." She directed his arm with a gentle touch, and he relaxed against her, allowing her to lead.

His rhythm started to even out and she could have stepped away to let him be. Instead, Sparrow stayed pressed against his back, breathing him in. He didn't smell of anything much at all, but there was something about his scent that she couldn't get enough of. Call it pheromones, but he smelled perfect, like the wind and the sky.

Her hand crept of its own accord around his waist, and his free fingers found hers. There they stood, joined by their skin, their hands, their breath, surrounded by a circle of fire that warded away the rest of the world and its problems. They stayed that way, until the wicks burned out, and Thomas turned to look down into her burning face. "Sparrow..."

His voice was thick with emotion, and she didn't want to hear anything more. She had stolen the moment when she knew she shouldn't have, and she was ashamed. "I have to go to the bathroom," she said hurriedly. "Can you make sure Will doesn't burn himself, please?"

Sparrow ran before he could answer, fleeing back to the house and away from the man who had appeared in her world and left her gasping for air. In the downstairs bathroom, she splashed water on her face, while a tabby cat stared up at Sparrow from her home in the dry shower-well.

"Oh, puss. What am I going to do?" she wondered out loud.

"Mrow," was the moggie's unhelpful response. Steeling herself, Sparrow headed back down.

Night had completely covered the beach by the time she returned. Stealthily, she padded through the sand towards everybody. Will was holding her shortest staff at the shoreline, waving the flames over the water and watching his reflection, and she knew she should head down and help him.

But to her left, Kimble and Thomas leaned against the beach fence, and Sparrow stopped as she caught her name among their words.

"...What do you want from Sparrow, man?" asked her Kiwi pal.

"Nothing. I'm not trying to take anything from her. I just... I feel something when I'm around her, and I like the way it feels."

"She makes everyone feel good, bro. That's her thing."

"I think I can make her feel good too. If she'll let me."

Kimble sighed. "Look, it's not really my place to say, but I've known her for four years, and I've never seen her with another dude. She loves everyone like we all belong to her, and she friggin' gets high on seeing happy couples get together, but she doesn't date."

"Why?"

"Dunno. Ask her."

No! Don't! Panicked, she snuck away, circling around to where Will stood. "Hey, buddy! Do you want some help?"

"Nah, I'm done." He handed her back the staff just as the flames winked out. "I'm gonna go play with my new phone!"

As Will scurried off, she considered doing a few more spins, but knew that Thomas would stare at her, and she'd be able to feel his eyes, and she didn't believe she'd be able to handle it with her defences so low and her nerves flaring. She dipped the wicks back in the oil a final time so they wouldn't smoulder in the bag, and began to pack up.

"Need a hand?"

Sparrow squealed, dropping the candle-bucket she'd been holding, and it blew out. "Thomas! You can't do that!"

"Do what?" he said, a hint of mischief in his tone.

"You know what." She was huffy now, tipping the oil jar and sloshing the left-over citronella back into the bottle. "You know exactly what you're doing, and you need to stop it, because you said you wanted to be friends, and then you do all this stuff tonight!"

"What stuff?"

"Bring me flowers-"

"As your guest."

"Wipe my tear-"

"As your friend."

"Let me stand behind you when I was teaching you with the staff-"

"I'm in trouble for letting you hug my waist?"

"Yes. No. I don't know." Thoroughly flustered, she tossed the rest of the gear into the bag, then caught herself acting like a total idiot and tried to stop. "I'm... I'm sorry. I'm just feeling... strange, and it's throwing me off balance."

Thomas didn't move, but Sparrow could see his eyes were bright. "You feel strange?"

"Yes."

"I don't think so, Sparrow. You're not feeling strange, you're feeling something. But it's okay. Whatever it is, I'm feeling it too."

Before she could refute him, he grinned and walked back to the warmth of the fire circle, while Sparrow stood by the water, shaking and terrified and unsure why.

What do you think? Worth a vote? Please remember to click the star for me!

Love and fireballs, Kate