* * *
Can we skip ahead?I want to see Lucky again.
it’s a date(go to 30)
go back(go to 15)
Nothing happens.
Like missing a step on the way down, I’m gripped by a jolt of panic that snaps me back to reality.
The surface of the stone is smooth to the touch—too smooth—and I laugh to myself when I find it’s not a real gem but plastic, the light emanating from a small bulb.I find a switch on the back and turn it off.
“I guess that’s as good of a sign as any that I should call it a night,” I say.
“Or that I’ve been overworking you.”
“I agreed to it.”
His brows climb.“So, I am overworking you?”
“No!”I rush, and the shock of seeing him actually smile makes me go a little wild, until I’m batting him across the shoulder like we do that—tease and touch each other.It lands like a house cat swatting a lion—barely felt—until I look up and see a dimple appear.
I did that.
“I really should go,” I say, though it’s the last thing I want to do.But my apartment won’t move itself, and there’s so much more work to do.“I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Looking up at him, the stark overhead light bearing down into my eyes, I could swear there is longing in his eyes.Something syrupy sweet, rich and oversaturated in the same way the air smelled minutes ago.It makes me sway closer, a call and response from one heart to another.
I really shouldn’t have skipped lunch.
But if I’m dreaming or hallucinating, I’m not sure I want to stop because the warm cradle of his palm cups my cheek, and no reality could ever be this good.
“Thank you.I know I’m … difficult,” he says, and I really am too tender about him because everything softens within me.“I’ll be better.”
Gripped by an urge I can’t explain, I stretch up, pressing the ghost of a kiss to his cheek.“Good night, Sterling.”
His eyes are still closed as I turn to walk away.
* * *
Make Your Choice:
come back to the office tomorrow(go to 20)
I’m in a rush.gimme the short version(go to 25)
go back(go to 17)
Sterling is precise as he removes the armor from my shoulders and chest—never careless, never touching more than is necessary, lingering only in presence.
Since the day of my twenty-first birthday, he has been by my side, hair as dark as shale after the rain, eyes bright as a summer sky.He towers over most, even Louis, yet rarely uses it against me, only coming to full height when he’s standing between me and a threat.
Not that there are any of those since the sorcerer was destroyed.
“I’ll be married tomorrow,” I say, not as a reminder—neither of us needs one—but because I can’t avoid it any longer.“And gone a day after that.”
The lines by his eyes tighten, but he swallows whatever is causing it.His words are gruff.“I’m aware.”
