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I was born with a condition called solar urticaria. Although my allergy to the sun was considered relatively mild, my parents, my father in particular, refused to allow me to attend school. Though I now know better, he claimed it was to prevent me from having to endure the rashes and as a result, everything I learned from birth to age seven, my mother taught me.

She was a kind woman, with a patience and innocence too pure for this world. Too pure for my father. And while he worked every night to beat that out of her, she never wavered. Never fought back or let the anger I know she felt show through. Instead, she would wake every morning, and smile at me as though I was the sun lifting on the horizon after a starless night. She would make me breakfast and sing nameless songs before dressing me from head to toe in UV-protectant clothes and taking me out to the garden.

It was there she taught me peace. Taught me how much life was within the soil when I couldn’t see it. How when we nurture even the most stagnant land, from it, beauty and abundance can grow. And when I asked her how, she would show me. She would take my small hands, guide them into the dirt, and instruct me to close my eyes. She’d tell me to envision the dead and how it feeds the earth…

“Do you feel it, sweetheart?” Her voice is so soft. So far away. I want to open them and make sure she’s still close.

I shake my head, wiggling my fingers. “I feel dirt.”

Mommy’s soft laugh makes me smile. “And what does it feel like?”

My eyebrows pull together. “Umm, dry?”

“Very good.” She places a hand on my shoulder, causing me to open my eyes. “So we water.”

“But there are no plants here,” I say, fighting the urge to scratch at my neck. I don’t want her to think the sun is burning me, when really it’s the sunscreen that bothers me. She takes such special care to put it on, I don’t want her to think I hate it.

“Even barren land holds potential, sweetheart. We must feed it, water it, and tend to it the same as if it were overflowing with flowers.”

“But why?” My eyes trace over her face to find the answer while trying not to notice the tint of blue on one of her cheeks. I saw her try to cover the bruises with makeup, but it wasn’t enough.

“Because we must nourish the soul if we expect our dreams to flourish.”

As a child, the metaphor was lost to me, and as an adult, it’s been the greatest lie I was ever told.

“Is the place too much?” A voice steals my attention from the building I was gazing at, and for the first time in my existence, words and all other thoughts completely elude me.

A vibrant sunset kisses the horizon and casts an unearthly glow around an incoming Jessica. Her golden hair shimmers in the light, her soft waves cascading over a dress from another era. It’s soft pink, a delicate choice in comparison to her brashness, with a lace overlay, and bows tying the fabric at her shoulders. It cinches tight around her waist, and flares out at her hips, drawing my eyes to curves I only imagined before. And it’s the low V of the neckline that does me in.

I’ve always held a certain reverence for the female form, particularly the breasts. Soft skin, pert nipples, their reactivity and ability to send the entire body into euphoria. And Jessica’s delectable cleavage causes my heart to thunder, the sudden desire to sink my teeth into her flesh so great, I almost groan.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” The agent’s face falls, her lips turning down in the corners. But as I start to speak, she suddenly perks up. “Orrrr, is your face all screwed up because of how hot I look?”

She closes the last few steps needed to reach me and does a quick twirl. The fabric at her knees billows out, sending her scent to swirl around us. Warm vanilla, jasmine, and the subtle hint of spice invade my airways.

I know long after this woman is gone, I’ll remember that smell, and the notion causes my throat to tighten.

“I don’t believe the human face is capable of screwing up ,” I tell her coolly, though my skin is heated with her proximity. “Also, this location is fine. A much better choice than your bar.”

Jessica releases a laugh. “Your face can definitely screw up no matter how hard you try to be serious.”

“Is that so?” A true tinge of curiosity stains my words.

She nods. “Yep. It drives me fucking crazy, if I’m being honest.”

My brows lift as I watch her grab the long golden handle of the door. I shouldn’t care nor be interested in what she thinks of me or if anything I do drives her crazy. But for some obscure and frustrating reason, I do. Even if only a small amount. That in itself should be my first warning sign, an alarm bell telling me I need to reevaluate where my head-space is.

But when she yanks the door open and loops her arm with mine, the idea disintegrates.

“I haven’t been here since I was a kid on my fourth-grade field trip, but I checked and there have been lots of upgrades since then.”

My eyes flash to where we’re connected. Her skin is so soft. So delicate.

“They have a huge library wall here.”

To her animated face. Her eyes. I don’t believe I have ever seen such a color.

“Over there are interactive computers that go more in-depth on certain topics.”

To the slender column of her neck. I wonder if she tastes as sweet as she smells.

“In the back, is the viewing area. Oh, and they have a planetarium this way as well.”

As Jessica leads us toward where her gaze is focused, I finally manage to tear my eyes away from the woman still attached to my arm and glance at the surrounding space. It’s what one would expect from an expansive observatory, but I must admit, it’s rather stunning.

Books line the walls on the right, reaching from floor to ceiling, along with two black spiral staircases—one marked ascending and the other the opposite. On the left is a small counter to purchase tickets to special exhibits along with a row of the interactive computers. The floor is a slate marble, while the ceiling is glass, adorned by an elaborate, bus-sized model of the solar system.

Being a Wednesday night and only two hours from closing, it’s relatively empty, making it intimate, and not at all as claustrophobic as I would have imagined. Granted, I have no problem with small spaces, but an abundance of people makes me…itchy.

“Are you a fan of astrology?” I ask, bringing my eyes slowly back to her. The glow from outside somehow hasn’t left her.

“No, not really.” She shakes her head, unhooking her arm from mine as she leads me to the first monitor. “But I figured it would be the closest I could get you to the moon.”

Her cheeks take on a hue of pink with her words, and the blood in my veins warms in response.

I’m not one to lose my composure, or let my thoughts run away from me, but this woman has the concerning ability to make my mind dive into temptation. Into desire. Into…endearment.

“Oh, look. This one is about when they demoted Pluto.” She points to the screen, her focus already on something new. “I don’t know why, but I was so mad when they did that. It was like they were making an announcement to the world that the little guy doesn’t matter. He can be pushed aside to make room for the bigger and better. Which is bullshit, by the way because Uranus, you know.”

I have no earthly idea why I find her rant amusing, but I do. In fact, I can’t even stop the small twitch of my lips. “You seem rather passionate about it.”

The agent nods. “I am. Also, Sailor Pluto was one of my favorites.”

“The guardian of the underworld?”

Jessica’s face snaps toward me. “You watched Sailor Moon?”

I shrug, my eyes roving over the screen. “I read the manga. A kid left one in the shop and my father gave it to me to pass the time. Luckily, we had a library close by, so I could get a few more. Pluto was the darker character, if I can recall correctly.”

“Her existence was sad. Lonely. And those fucking rules she had to live by.”

I nod. “She died if she broke any of them, right?”

She nods, her face solemn.

There is more at play here than a simple character, and I find myself curious. I tell myself that by diving deeper into her, I’ll find a weakness. One I’ll use to kill both her and my one sided contract with Alexi.

At least, that’s what I tell myself when I ask, “are there a lot of rules you have to follow as a federal agent?”

“An ungodly amount, actually.” She sighs, her blue eyes dulling. “And I know, I know. Why the hell would I become a fed if I didn’t want to follow rules, right?”

My lips tilt. “A valid musing.”

Her eyes fall to my mouth for a moment before she smiles herself. We’re stuck in place for the few seconds that follow until finally she blinks and comes back to herself. “I just didn’t think they would be so damn strict, is all.”

I nod, biting my tongue from telling her she should work in Noxus if she doesn’t want to be bound by any laws.

We’re quiet for a few moments as we continue down the machines, stopping to inspect each one. It isn’t until we reach Jupiter that her smile returns. “One time my brother was supposed to finish a project for school, and he waited until the last minute—like after the stores had closed, last minute—and instead of telling our parents, he used all the fruit in the house to do it.”

“Seems rather resourceful,” I say, noting how close our fingers linger next to one another on the dashboard.

She huffs. “Yeah, except the pineapple he used was from my mom’s little fruit garden which took her two years to grow.”

Another involuntary smile curls my lips. “How much trouble did he get into?”

“None,” she says, her eyes drifting with the recollection of the memory. “I ran to the market and got another one, then hot glued it to the stalk.”

A laugh slips out. “So you’re a sneaky one, are you?”

“A little. But it was more so about not upsetting my mom. She was a literal angel, and I hated seeing her anything but happy.”

The semblance of my understanding causes a muscle deep in my sternum to twist with her words, but I don’t allow myself to truly acknowledge the discomfort. Not here, and not to this stranger. Instead, I simply nod. “Are you close with your family?”

Jessica nods and spends the rest of our small tour of the computers telling me all about them. I learn about her parents, her siblings—all three brothers—the family dogs. She tells me about the overabundance of love that filled her home, and how grateful she is that she was able to experience it.

The entire time she talks, I become more captivated by her and more intrigued by our vast differences. In every aspect that she is soft and tender, I am hard and calloused. Where she is hopeful and full of joy, I am despondent and melancholy. Where she blooms from her childhood, I simply rot.

Yet while we are complete opposites, there is something else there, just beneath the surface, that calls to me.

Something peculiar and obscure. But it’s there. Surrounding us in our own personal bubble, and soon, everything around us fades. Ironically, we become suspended in space, being completely and utterly transfixed in this moment.

I continue to listen to her, and never do I wish for her to stop. Never wonder how she has another story about something completely unrelated to her last. Not once do I note anything other than intrigue and instead, lean closer. Smile more.

It isn’t until a muffled voice sounds on the intercom overhead that either of us seems to realize where we are. She blinks twice before running a hand through her golden locks and glancing toward the staircase, then down the hall.

When she looks back at me, her eyes shimmer like a pond in the middle of the spring. “Ready?”

I nod once, ignoring the lightness in my chest. “Yes.”

“Okay, well, I’m going to run to the restroom real quick.” Jessica gestures to one of the vending machines. “Will you grab a couple of waters before we go to the viewing?”

“Of course.” I nod again, and though I don’t mean to, I watch as she reluctantly turns and leaves, her hips swaying as she saunters down the hall.

When she’s out of view, I’m able to take my first breath of air not littered with her essence. And in my next, a veil of sorts, lifts.

I finally glance around me, my eyes scanning over the observatory as I remember where I am, what I’m doing. Why I’m here …

The vial in my pocket becomes heavy, the reminder a cold splash of water down my spine.

I slip my hand into my pocket, my fingers curling around the glass, and I loathe the way I hesitate for a moment.

Whether it be today or three weeks, this ends the same.

Might as well be now, before I do something stupid.