She clears her throat and faces the room again.
“That’s it for today,” she announces. “Thank you all for coming!”
Chairs scrape. People stand. The committee dissolves into small conversations. Lucy starts packing her binder, her movements neat but rushed. I push to my feet. I shouldn’t talk to her. I shouldn’t go near her.
But I do.
I walk straight toward her.
She pretends not to notice until I’m close enough that she can feel my shadow stretch across her table.
She looks up—wide eyes, pink cheeks, breath catching.
“Lieutenant Calder,” she says, a little too quickly.
“Lucy.”
Her spine straightens. “Miss Snow.”
I huff a laugh. “Right.”
She shoves her papers into her bag. “Was there something you needed?”
I study her.
The nervous fingers. The way she avoids my gaze. The heat between us, humming like a live wire. I don’t touch her. I don’t step closer. But I lower my voice so only she can hear.
“You can throw all the glitter you want, Sparky. Just don’t expect me to stop calling out hazards.”
Her eyes flare. “You’re impossible.”
“And you,” I murmur, “are reckless.”
Her breath stutters.
“And distracting,” I add before I can think better of it.
She swallows. Hard. “Stop calling me that.”
“What? Distracting?”
She glares. “Yes.”
“No.”
“No?” she echoes.
I lean in slightly—close enough to see the flecks of gold in her eyes. “Not when you keep proving me right.”
Her lips part like she’s about to say something sharp.
Instead she whispers, “I don’t know what to do with you.”
“Good,” I say. “Try not to figure it out.”
“Why?”
“Because you won’t like the answer.”
