Classes drag today as most involve discussing random events, how to clean a transport, and so on, with everyone’s focus—even the professors—clearly on our upcoming break. I walk with Ciara and Tate to lunch, sitting with our typical group. Kamden waves to us from where he’s sitting with the junior Recons. At the next table over, Kellan looks up and does the same, and I can’t help but notice the hint of sadness in his expression. He’s really taking this whole divisions arrangement poorly. I offer him a sad smile before plopping down into my seat.
“Looks like Anders has another admirer,” Ciara teases as she gestures across the hall.
I glance up and catch sight of a girl reaching out toward Anders, her fingers almost brushing against his arm. I can’t help but stifle a laugh as he jerks away, nearly elbowing the guy standing in line beside him.
The girl seems unfazed as she twirls her long, brown hair aroundher finger, biting her bottom lip in a far too exaggerated manner. She leans in a little closer, her eyes sparkling with hope—but Anders’ expression quickly shifts from mildly annoyed to uncomfortable.
He mutters something I can only assume is a curt dismissal as I watch her flirtatious, doe-eyed gaze shift to hatred. She crosses her arms tightly across her chest, her cheeks turning a shade similar to strawberries. Everyone in the hall can hear her shriek of annoyance when she retorts, “It’s Laci, not Kara!”
She storms off, leaving Anders visibly relieved, yet amused by the encounter. Tate, Ciara, and I share a chuckle over the drama. It’s a familiar scene—Anders and the determined flirt attempting to win him over when nobody else has managed.
“I’d tap that,” Tate remarks beside me. “Seriously, what do all these women see in him anyway?”
I feel a hint of a blush as I avert my gaze to my plate. I can’t speak for anyone else, but the truth is, Anders is…Anders. His confidence, which often borders on arrogance, has a strange charm that is growing on me. And dare I say it, but kindness lurks beneath that broody exterior which I’ve come to love. I doubt many people ever get to see that side of him. Plus, his looks. I can’t even pick just one thing—the man is the embodiment of every fantasy I have.
“How did you do on the Aeronautics exam?” Ciara interjects, pulling me from my thoughts.
A grin spreads across my face as I tell her I scored a hundred percent. My body hums, a tingling sensation sliding down my spine, both infuriating and exhilarating at the same time. I don’t have to turn to know who’s behind me.
I feel his hot breath tickling my neck as he leans down to whisper in my ear. His presence is borderline intoxicating, and it’s a struggle not to lean back into him. “Care to join me by the river for lunch?” he asks, keeping his voice low and inviting.
I gasp softly, caught off guard as his fingers graze my arm ever so slightly.What is he doing?This is too bold, too intimate, especially in front of…everyone.
It takes a moment to gather my thoughts, but I respond, “I’m quitehappy here, but enjoy.” I feign indifference even though the idea of joining him is more than tempting. The last thing either of us needs is the gossip that will spread like wildfire if someone sees us. Instead, I offer him a playful smile, hoping to mask my internal conflict, then redirect my attention back to Tate, who is now deep in conversation with a few others.
“I swear Professor Trygg hates me,” Tate snaps in frustration. “How the hell was I supposed to know that the thinner the atmosphere, the harder it is for the pods?” I’m all too aware of Anders lingering behind me like he has more to say before making his way across the dining hall.
Deep down, I know I shouldn’t care that I turned him down, but I do, and shame fills me. Another realization that surprises me. I don’t want to hurt his feelings, and that thought unsettles me more than it should. He seems so nonchalant in rejecting women, yet the idea of doing the same to him fills me with a strange sense of guilt. I watch his retreating form as he strides through the door, his mask firmly intact, yet I notice the subtle way his free hand is clenched tightly at his side.
As if he can sense my gaze lingering on him, he pauses and turns, locking eyes with me. The world around us fades, and for a heartbeat, it’s just the two of us, the moment charged with possibilities and maybe something more.
I sit in Modern Science, and all I can think about is leaving Anders to eat alone. I don’t know why the guilt is eating me up so much, but it is. After classes, I’ll have to make it up to him somehow. With our running club scheduled for this evening, I can probably make a detour to turn things around.
Professor Mathison, a short, frail man, stands behind his worktable and projects a holographic image of our system—the seven suns, seventy-two planets, and hundreds of moons—springingto life in vivid colors. “Who here can tell me why it’s impossible for all seventy-two planets to rotate, keeping time with each other? And why is it even more impossible that our planets orbit the seven suns as they do?”
Paxton’s hand shoots up. “Even though all seventy-two planets have a similar core and composition, the variance in mass between them is significant. Moreover, each planet’s distance from its sun is fundamental to understanding gravitational pull, and this isn’t factoring in the gravity from Sgya and the suns’ own orbits around it. We should also consider tidal drag from surrounding moons, angular momentum, and the spin of the protoplanetary disk. Even if every planet were an exact replica of the other with identical mass, orbits, and moons, it would still be impossible.”
“Excellent, Duke Leighton!” Professor Mathison praises, “And why is it that our planets have exact rotations and orbits despite all of these factors?”
I glance over to Tate, sharing a reassuring nod. We’ve had extensive discussions on this topic recently, and I know he could use the participation points to bolster his grade.
“Magic?” Tate ventures hesitantly. Professor Mathison nods, a slight frown on his lips.
“Yes, magic, Lord Kinnunen,” he acknowledges, crossing his arms. “But let’s remember to raise our hands next time, yes?”
Tate huffs in annoyance, sitting back.
“It’s okay,” I whisper. “He’ll still give you points.”
“As Lord Kinnunen pointed out,” Professor Mathison continues, his glasses falling down his snub nose, “magic. We don’t yet fully understand why the gods chose to impart these particularities on our system, but we know that prior to the veil, the planets operated independently on their own calendars. Now,” he declares, moving back to change the hologram. “Today, we will learn about telling time when you don’t have a clock.”
By the end of the day, I’m scrambling to get dressed for running club. I reach for my lilac sports bra, featuring delicate straps that criss-cross elegantly across my back. It’s a favorite of mine, and Ipair it with lace-trimmed shorts. Am I dressing up for him? Maybe…fine, yes. Still, I feel the strange need for him to notice me. Once dressed, I rebraid my hair and finish with a quick dab of blush on my cheeks.
As expected, the students grumble about us rerunning the arena stairs, but I remind them how good it will feel when we’re done. It isn’t long before we arrive at the arena, and I spot Anders making his way into practice. He’s dressed in athletic shorts, his torso gloriously bare, and a shirt hanging haphazardly out of the waistband of his shorts. My heart skips a beat at the sight of him.
I inhale deeply, reminding myself not to be a coward. Waving my team forward, I jog to catch up with him. “Hey,” I call out. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
He nods, a slight smile playing on his lips as we step away from the flow of runners.
