NAULL
Aria glares at me like she wants to set my scales on fire.
Again.
It's kind of our thing.
I don’t mean to rile her up—okay, maybe I do—but I swear, nine times outta ten, I’m just breathing near her and she looks at me like I farted in her airlock. Doesn’t help that I usually forget shirts exist when we’re below surface. Vakutan metabolism runs hot, and this planet’s core heat makes my back sweat like a beast. But it’s more than that, if I’m honest.
I like the way she looks at me. Not the rage part—I mean, that’s fun, but it’s not the whole of it. No, it’s the flicker in her eyes before she remembers she’s supposed to be mad. That tiny pulse ofnot indifference. She doesn’t look at anyone else like that. Doesn’t talk to anyone else like that either. With me, it’s a live wire. Every word. Every look. Like we’re just waiting for the next spark to jump.
And hell, I like fire.
Always have.
I lean back against the bench beside her, trying to act casual while my heart thunders like a drop-jet in my ribs. She’s tense, arms crossed, boot tapping. Her ponytail’s come loose andthere’s this streak of soot across her temple, and I’ve never seen anything so sharp and breakable in the same damn breath. She smells like burnt circuits and lemon balm, which is a combo that should be illegal. Or bottled.
I sneak a glance at her.
She’s not looking at me, which is wild, because we’re alone in a corridor the width of a starship’s spine. Sheshouldbe looking. Because I am. Looking at her, I mean.
Always am.
“You ever gonna stop pretending you hate me?” I say, keeping my voice easy.
She snorts, barely glancing my way. “You ever gonna stop giving me reasons?”
“Maybe I’m giving youopportunities.Ever think of that?”
She arches a brow. “Opportunities to what? Smash your face into the console?”
“Bonding experience,” I shrug. “Shared trauma.”
She doesn’t smile. But her mouthtwitcheslike it wants to.
Progress.
“You’re exhausting,” she mutters.
“You’re obsessed.”
“Delusional.”
“Aria,” I say, quiet now, serious. “You said something back there. In the hangar.”
She freezes.
“I say a lot of things,” she says too fast.
“Not like that.” I turn to face her, making sure she can’t dodge it. “You said I was the reason you stayed.”
She doesn’t answer. Not right away.
Then: “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Then how did you mean it?”
“Gods, Naull,” she snaps, shoving up from the bench and pacing a tight circle. “Why do you always have topush?”
