My upcoming talk with James crossed my mind, and I decided I could do with some new clothes, makeup, hairbrushes, and perfume. Definitely the latter.
The gulp I let out as everything I wanted materialized on the bed could’ve been comedic in any other context. My red haze shimmered, laying bare the energy behind my magic, and leaving behind a perfectly curated assortment of necessities. My enthusiasm officially hit overdrive.
Jumpingout of bed was a bold choice. Fortunately, the walker was nearby, and I landed on it with another elegant huff, grateful for the support. With a flicker of concentration, I transported my freshly acquired wardrobe to the bathroom.
One painstakingly slow shuffle later, I discovered a surprisingly cozy shower and toilet. Giddy as a kid at Christmas,I took my time. Showering, grooming—it was all done with the same level of awe as if I’d only discovered running water for the first time. Meanwhile, chairs popped into existence out of thin air, whenever I felt faint.
Still on my high, I noticed the bathroom’s mirror was laughably inadequate. So, I translated a full-length one. Me. I did that.Muhaha.
My reflection stared back at me, thinner and a little worse for wear, but nothing the right outfit and makeup couldn’t fix. Not bad for someone who survived a nuclear weapon attack.
Next order of business: I needed to talk to James.
Where was my Nexus?
I scanned the room, my mind willing the device to find me. As if on cue, it appeared in my palm, the familiar weight grounding me. Another grin spread across my face, wide and unstoppable.
Without wasting a second, I nexed James, my fingers moving quickly to send a direct message.Come back please. Alone. We need to talk.
Message sent, I exhaled, trying to calm the sudden tightness in my chest.
A hollow beat passed. Then another. The Nexus stayed stubbornly silent in my grip, each second dialing my anxiety up another notch.
Then at last came a soft knock at the door, followed by the quiet creak of it opening. And there he was—James Walker. Hot as ever. My stupid heart skipped a stupid beat simply at the sight of him.
"Emma, you wanted to—" His breath caught as his eyes widened with surprise upon seeing me. He looked me over—face, body—and his focus lingered on my lips. I couldn’t help but smile at his less-than-subtle reaction.
"You look amazing! Wait, how the hell do you look amazing?" James shouted with more concern than I was ready to process.
In two quick strides, he was across the room, towering over me. "How the fuck did you manage this on your own? You should be in bed, not moving around like a prima fucking ballerina."
Okay. First of all, not like I was pirouetting—I was standing in a bathroom. Calm down, Swan Lake.
Second of all, did he, in the midst of all his profanity and that horrible commanding tone, express actual concern for my well-being? The last time we spoke, he acted like I was the bane of his existence.
My brow arched instinctively, my pride steamrolling over any appreciation for his unsolicited concern. "James, do I look like a sixteen-year-old in desperate need of an overprotective father?” I shook my head in disappointment. “I think I can manage my own safety, thank you very much."
To really sell my point, I added a huff at the end. As one does when delivering a rousing “I’m my own woman” speech.
Then took a triumphant step out of the bathroom, chin held high—and immediately tripped over the walker parked in the doorway I’d forgotten all about.
Stumbling forward, I nearly met the floor face-first—until James’s arm looped around my waist and hauled me upright.
The gods had a sick sense of humor.
"You were saying?" he asked, while smothering a sigh, and managing to sound both exasperated and unbearably smug.
Nothing worth repeating, apparently.
Without another word, he scooped me up in his arms, and placed me back on the bed, his movements surprisingly careful. His fingers brushed against my temple as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear.
I stared at him wide-eyed, a swirl of confusion and disbelief bubbling under the surface. There was no denying he was acting very differently compared to the last time we spoke.
And as much as I wanted to melt into this sudden display of softness, let it sweep me away, I couldn’t ignore the glaring question hanging in the air. I needed answers. And fast.
"James, I don’t entirely understand what’s happening here," I began hesitantly, my voice shaky despite my best efforts to stay composed. "The last time we spoke, I think I made it pretty clear how I felt about you… How I feel."
The words caught in my throat, threatening to break me.Damn it, this is hard.
