There was an unmistakable, if fledgling, gleam of hope in his eyes. “We will?”
“Chan,” I said. “If it’s what you want, I promise to do everything in my power to get you laid.”
He snorted, his cheeks flaring redder than the fire rippling below his hoverchair.
After I kissed him on one of those blushing cheeks, I walked in long, determined strides toward Raphael’s table.
Raphe’s deep voice sliding into my VC felt like sliding into a warm bath. This was exactly what I needed. A night of no-strings-attached fun. A night to remind me of who I was, what I was good at. A night to move forward, even if I was really only standing in place. Semantics.Whatever.
His wry smile fell.
Settling into the seat beside him, I explained into his ear, “Elanie.”
“Hmm. She’s usually better at keeping secrets.”
Without warning, I burrowed my face into his neck and breathed him in. I probably seemed deranged, judging by his “uh, Sunny?” response. But this was important. It was important for me to remember that Raphael always smelled good too, like citrus and sandalwood, like comfort and familiarity. And he looked phenomenal: smooth black skin, dimples bracketing a neatly trimmed goatee, sharp brown eyes.
“I love that dress,” he said, his lips brushing against my ear.
The sensation was nice. When by all rights it should have been exhilarating, erotic even, it was…nice. “I’m glad you came, Raphe. I’m sorry I have to work so late.”
Leaning away, he commed,
It was sonotall he wanted, but he’d always been good at taking my cues, sensing my moods.
He chuckled.
After a quick brush of my lips over his cheek, I pushed my chair back, stood, then froze as a spotlight flooded our table. Raphe shot me a concerned glance, and I grimaced, realizing all too late that we were about to be part of the magic show.
I commed while the wizards gathered at the front of the stage, gesturing wildly at our table, uttering some indecipherable incantation that sounded nothing likebearsorbutter.
Tig’s giggle trilled between my ears.
“What is going on?” Raphe asked, his shoulders coiling and his body tensed like he might burst from his chair. Grabbing his hand, I held him in place.
Tig commed.
Before she finished her sentence, Dave the goat materialized out of thin air on top of our table, and I let out a little scream. Furiously flicking his tail, the goat met Raphe’s wide-eyed stare, leaned forward until their noses touched, and bleated.
Shying away, Raphael cried, “What in hells is that?”
I commed, trying my hardest not to laugh, but the whole thing was so absurd.
As quickly as he’d arrived, Dave blinked out of existence again. Only to reappear on another table, then behind the bar, then on some unsuspecting Blurvan’s tail. The entire ballroom burst into squeals and laughter while the wizards deployed poor Dave as their grand magical finale, whisking him through the crowd.
Calmer now that he understood the gag, Raphe grinned, cheered the goat on, and said, “This is ridiculous.”
Itwasridiculous. So ridiculous I’d almost gained a new appreciation for the showmanship of Delphinian magicians.
As the wizards exited the stage, the applause died down. Dave the goat continued to wander around the ballroom like the most irritable party favor. And I left Raphael at his table with instructions to a nearby serving drone to re-up his martini.
Walking back to the bar, I looked up in time to catch Sai waving goodbye. I waved back as his moms led him from the ballroom—the senator holding his hand, Lena carrying a plate with a worryingly large piece of warple cake atop it, all of them smiling and laughing, the portrait of a happy, healthy family. My arm dropped to my side, my smile fading, my chest burning. My heart aching.
What was happening to me? I didn’t do this. I didn’t let my heart ache in public. Hardly even in private. I didn’t look back like this. I didn’t live in the past. I didn’t dwell. Because life was hard. Terrible things happened every day. There was no fairness. I was not special. And I was not going to spend another second of this night feeling sorry for myself. Or, more to the point, feeling anything at all.
I spun on my heel but stopped short with a gasp, narrowly avoiding running face-first into Freddie’s chest.
