Page 106
Story: Blade of Secrets
Long after I hear Temra’s and Kellyn’s breathing slow, I’m still staring up at the sky, my body going stiff from being in the same position. Carefully, I take my hand back so I can turn on my side, facing him.
And though he’s asleep, he somehow moves with me anyway. He wedges the arm closest to me under my head and pulls me flush up against his side.
And I suspect that he’s not sleeping at all, but I’ll let him pretend.
I don’t remember falling asleep or waking up. I’m suddenly just alert.
The first thing I notice is that Temra isn’t quite next to me anymore. No, she’s rolled over, practically on top of Petrik. They’re in a really embarrassing position. Though Temra wouldn’t be embarrassed by it, I can imagine how Petrik’s cheeks will heat.
Then I realize there’s movement above me. A chest moving in and out.
I turn my head.
Kellyn has one arm thrown over me, his head resting on my shoulder, blowing his heated breath into my neck.
At first I think to jump up, but I can’t do that. That would be rude while he’s trying to sleep.
So I watch him.
I take in what I can see of that long body, those muscled arms and flat chest. His nose is so sharp, his cheekbones so high. And that hair—
A beam of light breaks through the trees and lands directly on those golden-red locks, setting them ablaze.
Dear heavens.
After a few minutes, the beam moves to his eyes, and then he starts to turn his head from side to side.
I hastily shut my eyes and force myself to relax, faking sleep.
I hear his breathing change. He moves slightly, lifting his head, I think.
I wait for him to get up, to nudge me away or something,anything. But he’s still. Watching me. I can feel his eyes burning holes onto my face.
And I don’t know how, but I feel the exact moment they drop to my lips.
I remember the fascination, and almost delight, when he brought up the freckles on my lips.
My breath rushes into me, and I have to open my eyes. I probably should put more effort into acting as though I’ve just woken up, but I don’t.
My eyes shoot open and I find him so close, closer than he was before when I was admiring him. He eyes my lips meaningfully, as though asking for permission.
For one second, I think to nod my assent.
But then I remember that Temra and Petrik are just a few feet away. He can’t possibly kiss me when they’re right there.
So I feign misunderstanding. I smile at him before stretching and sitting up.
It doesn’t escape my attention that I was going to let him kiss me if Temra and Petrik weren’t right there. It’s a sobering thought. One that makes me want to get far away from the mercenary.
Coward that I am, I walk over to Temra and rub her shoulder.
“We should get going,” I say once she stirs.
Petrik is still fast asleep, so she reaches over and drags a finger gently down his nose before tapping his lips.
I look away, blushing. How can she be so direct with her flirting? I don’t care if it’s meaningless or if she’s got feelings for the scholar. Either way, she never seems to care if she has an audience—no matter what it is.
I wish I had her fearlessness. I wish I could rid myself of the sinking sensation that feels like falling whenever I’m on display. I wish it didn’t become hard to breathe when someone new wants to strike up a conversation. I wish I wasn’t helpless in a crowd. I wish my body didn’t dictate how I’m supposed to react to things. That I could just tell it,Behave, and it would listen.
And though he’s asleep, he somehow moves with me anyway. He wedges the arm closest to me under my head and pulls me flush up against his side.
And I suspect that he’s not sleeping at all, but I’ll let him pretend.
I don’t remember falling asleep or waking up. I’m suddenly just alert.
The first thing I notice is that Temra isn’t quite next to me anymore. No, she’s rolled over, practically on top of Petrik. They’re in a really embarrassing position. Though Temra wouldn’t be embarrassed by it, I can imagine how Petrik’s cheeks will heat.
Then I realize there’s movement above me. A chest moving in and out.
I turn my head.
Kellyn has one arm thrown over me, his head resting on my shoulder, blowing his heated breath into my neck.
At first I think to jump up, but I can’t do that. That would be rude while he’s trying to sleep.
So I watch him.
I take in what I can see of that long body, those muscled arms and flat chest. His nose is so sharp, his cheekbones so high. And that hair—
A beam of light breaks through the trees and lands directly on those golden-red locks, setting them ablaze.
Dear heavens.
After a few minutes, the beam moves to his eyes, and then he starts to turn his head from side to side.
I hastily shut my eyes and force myself to relax, faking sleep.
I hear his breathing change. He moves slightly, lifting his head, I think.
I wait for him to get up, to nudge me away or something,anything. But he’s still. Watching me. I can feel his eyes burning holes onto my face.
And I don’t know how, but I feel the exact moment they drop to my lips.
I remember the fascination, and almost delight, when he brought up the freckles on my lips.
My breath rushes into me, and I have to open my eyes. I probably should put more effort into acting as though I’ve just woken up, but I don’t.
My eyes shoot open and I find him so close, closer than he was before when I was admiring him. He eyes my lips meaningfully, as though asking for permission.
For one second, I think to nod my assent.
But then I remember that Temra and Petrik are just a few feet away. He can’t possibly kiss me when they’re right there.
So I feign misunderstanding. I smile at him before stretching and sitting up.
It doesn’t escape my attention that I was going to let him kiss me if Temra and Petrik weren’t right there. It’s a sobering thought. One that makes me want to get far away from the mercenary.
Coward that I am, I walk over to Temra and rub her shoulder.
“We should get going,” I say once she stirs.
Petrik is still fast asleep, so she reaches over and drags a finger gently down his nose before tapping his lips.
I look away, blushing. How can she be so direct with her flirting? I don’t care if it’s meaningless or if she’s got feelings for the scholar. Either way, she never seems to care if she has an audience—no matter what it is.
I wish I had her fearlessness. I wish I could rid myself of the sinking sensation that feels like falling whenever I’m on display. I wish it didn’t become hard to breathe when someone new wants to strike up a conversation. I wish I wasn’t helpless in a crowd. I wish my body didn’t dictate how I’m supposed to react to things. That I could just tell it,Behave, and it would listen.
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