Garrik.
Not inside. Not asleep.
He’s tending to his hives just outside his cottage, shirtless and barefoot, crouched in the middle of the garden. His back is to me, leaf green skin etched in gold from the fireflies, a lavender glow on his face as it emanates from the bases of the trees–some kind of bioluminescent bloom. Every muscle shifts with fluid grace as he reaches into the hive, and I see massive creatures that look more like hummingbirds than bees as they settle on his arm.
He hasn’t noticed me yet.
I take one step forward. Gravel crunches underfoot.
His eyes snap toward me.
“Iris?”
His voice is soft, low, and gentle…almost a bedroom voice, which sends a shiver shooting up my spine. He carefully withdraws his hand, careful not to startle the hive, and one of the bees—a creature the size of a small sparrow with translucent violet wings—lifts gently from his arm and buzzes away into the night.
“Hi,” I say, suddenly at a loss for words.
He blinks at me, the soft glow from the trees casting his features in shifting hues of gold and lavender. His antennae twitch, brightening to a vibrant pink at the tips, and I can see the moment his eyes trail down…seeing my bare legs, the oversized sweater slipping off one shoulder, the way I’m standing in the garden like I’ve been called here by the stars themselves.
“You’re…” he starts, then clears his throat. “It’s late.”
“I know.”
“Did you need something?”
I shake my head. Then I nod. A contradiction, I know, but I think he gets it. “Not really. Just couldn’t sleep.”
We both know it’s bigger than that.
We both know neither of us could sleep because we were thinking about each other.
Garrik shifts his weight, glancing toward the hive, then back at me. “You call all the way out here because you couldn’t sleep?”
“I was going for a walk,” I shrug.
“A walk without pants?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.”
Garrik laughs in a way that almost sounds more like a pained groan, then scrubs a hand down his face like he can scrub his brain clean. It doesn’t appear to work. His golden eyes flick to me again, lingering just a second too long on where the sweater flutters around my knees.
“I didn’t think I’d see you again tonight,” he says, voice rough.
“Why not?”
“Because I thought…” He stops and swallows hard. “I thought you would come to your senses.”
I step closer, bare feet brushing the moss at the garden’s edge. “What makes you think that I didn’t?”
His jaw tightens, visible even beneath his curly beard. His antennae twitch. Garrik doesn’t move a muscle as I inch closer and closer, in the midst of the hives now, the hum of alien bees all around me. They don’t sting—he told me that a long time ago, swapping stories about our lives before we met—but it’s a little unnerving anyway.
I stop just in front of him.
Close enough to see the rise and fall of his curl-kissed chest. Close enough to feel his heat, to see that the blush on his antennae has spread to his cheeks.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” I tell him. “About what happened when you came to see me in Mythara…about what just happened in the apiary this afternoon.”
“Iris…”
