“We’ll make the announcement soon. I promise,” Clayton says seriously. I feel bad that it doesn’t seem like enough, I wantan actual date to hold him to, but I know I just sprang this on him. When I don’t reply, he puts a hand on the back of my head to hold me still as he presses a kiss to my forehead. I’m torn between reminding him that this isn’t distance and just waiting it out to avoid making this a bigger issue.
When he releases me he asks, “But you’ll still come to my award ceremony?”
“I . . . yeah, I guess.”
I know I shouldn’t, but I don’t know how I can say no after all that.
Adrianna is still waiting for me over by the elevators, and my throat tightens a little when I look at her. I can’t. I know I’m already disappointing her, so I make a beeline for the large glass-panel doors.
“I gotta go, I’ll text you later,” I call over my shoulder to her and wince at myself as I step out into the cold.
Is it just me, or is she being real judgy today? It’s not like I let it go on this long on purpose; I’m working with what I can. Ugh, I’m mad that I’m annoyed with her. I know she cares about me, but it really does not feel like it today; it feels like shame that I’m struggling to keep up with everything.
I slow to a stop before I reach the bodega, looking around for Ellis. I catch a glimpse of wings a few floors up when I peek down the slim alley between the second to last building and the corner store.
I stumble backward, running my hands through my hair self-consciously.
Ok, it’s cool. It doesn’t have to be weird. Especially if we’re just hooking up while we’re working on this whole thing together, it’s fine, it doesn’t have to mean anything.
I turn into the alley, fully bracing myself for the impact of just looking at him. It hits me like a train regardless.
There Ellis is, wings casually out and shielding the blinding angle of the afternoon winter sun from his face. He’s sprawled out on the edge of a steel fire escape a couple floors up, a leg hanging off the edge while he scrolls through his phone, like a distracted gargoyle. Except for his tail lazily flicking through the bars, he sits perfectly still, mostly blending into the shadow of the building.
He’s doing that thing that makes something clench low in my belly every time I see it—his hand is tucked into the waistband of his gray sweatpants, warming his fingers against the crease of his hip.
I don’t know why the gray sweatpants are doing so goddamn much for me. Maybe I’ve been staring at tailored menswear for so long I’ve become starved for something else. I just know my tongue feels terribly present in my mouth while I think about dragging my teeth over his stomach.
Ellis looks away from his phone only to cloud a breath over his knuckles, when he spots me standing in the mouth of the alleyway and grins.
Some of my apprehension melts at just seeing him smile. I don’t know why I thought he would be mad at me, just because he didn’t stay with me this morning. Do I read too much into a lack of communication? He probably had hench-guy things to do.
He waves and drops from the fire escape, gliding a few feet down before he tucks his wings in and falls the last ten feet, landing easily on his clawed feet.
“Hey, Lace. I was thinking, tomorrow night I could breach containment in case you wanna do something,” he offers with that casual, devil-may-care shrug, as he pulls his hood up, tucking his wings back in under his jacket. “Unless it being Valentine’s makes it weird.”
“No. I mean, yeah, I’d love that. I mean, yes, I’d like it. A lot,” I stammer like an idiot. He grins, and I don’t even care that I sound ridiculous. I don’t think I realized before how much better he makes me feel just by being around him.
He threads a couple of his fingers through mine, and even through my glove, I feel sparks.
One of the back exits to the bodega is propped open. Ellis tilts his head to it, leading me by the hand inside. The store is crowded with tight aisles.
He nods to the guy behind the counter and runs a familiar hand up the bodega cat’s back. It purrs loudly from its perch on the newspaper rack as he scratches its head.
“Hey, so, uh, did you talk to your dad about the stuff we saw?” I ask him quietly as we weave through the aisles.
Ellis glances back at me for barely a second, as he answers. “Yeah, yeah. I did. It confirmed a lot of his suspicions. He’s going to come up with a plan.”
“Great, yeah, keep me in the loop.”
He nods but seems a little distracted. His attention quickly slides back to the rack of magazines. He pauses at the counter to pay for a pack of gum and scratch ticket, passing a twentythrough the gap in the acrylic divider. I hover in the doorway a moment, chewing the inside of my cheek.
It’s a little intimidating to think about going to Maestro for help. Even though he’s had me kidnapped before, I’ve never seen him. I’ve heard so much about him through Clayton. He painted a picture of a temperamental, unreasonable mad scientist that seemed so unlike the things Ellis told me about his frail old dad.
Then again, I don’t know that Maestro would even want to help me. Maybe Ellis could overlook my relationship with Clayton, but Maestro and Steel Heel are like, archenemies. Their decades-long feud has changed the landscape of this city. Somehow I doubt asking nicely is going to be enough.
In my gut, I know the only one who can probably help me is Dr. Maestro. Maybe I’m just being a pessimist, and Ellis will bring me back to their not-so-secret hideout, and we could get this all fixed.
Ellis takes a few steps away from the counter, pocketing his purchase and thumbing through the crinkled bills he got in return when he pauses. “Hey, you gave me the wrong change back, these fives stuck together.”
