“There's something weird about her. Haven't you noticed?” he adds, frowning. “I don't know how to explain it, but she doesn't seem... completely normal.”
I can't help but laugh. If he only knew...
“Define 'normal,'” I respond. “Do you know any of our friends who are?”
Colt opens his mouth to answer, but the sound of the doorbell interrupts us.
My heart skips several beats when, upon opening it, I find myself face to face with precisely Sylara. The elf smiles slightly upon seeing me, as perfect as always. In a light green dress that enhances her slender figure and pale skin. Her braid rests today over her left shoulder, and her hair is arranged so that her pointed ears remain hidden.
In my mind, however, fragments of the dream return without permission. The scent of damp earth. Vines holding my wrists while she...
I shake my head. Not the time...
“Good morning, Nell,” she greets with that voice that seems to caress the air. “Do you have a little free time? There's something I'd like to show you.”
I swallow with difficulty, shaking my head to banish the images from the dream with her perfect naked body on top of mine.
“Sure, I...” I begin, though I feel Colt's presence right behind me.
“Hello again, Sylara.”
He greets with a tone that tries to sound friendly but doesn't hide his distrust.
The elf inclines her head slightly, a gesture I'm sure no human could replicate with such elegance.
I notice Colt watching her with curiosity, as if trying to figure out what there is about her that he finds so strange.
“Nell was about to make more pancakes,” he protests, pointing toward the kitchen.
I prefer not to respond, roll my eyes, and grab Sylara by the arm, closing the door behind us.
“Your brother doesn't trust me,” she observes as we go down the stairs.
“He's not exactly my brother, but yes, Colt doesn't trust anyone,” I respond. “It's part of his charm. Where are we going?”
“To the pier,” she responds briefly.
“The pier? Why?”
A mysterious smile forms on her lips.
“You'll see,” she whispers with a wink that makes my knees tremble.
**
Despite being almost ten in the morning, the pier is full of activity: fishermen unloading the last catches of the day, tourists strolling, street vendors offering souvenirs. Sylara doesn't stop, we keep walking until we reach an ice cream stand.
“Ice cream at this hour?” I ask, surprised.
“Why not? Sometimes, small pleasures are the best way to start the day.”
Without even asking me, she orders two chocolate ones. My favorite.
“I don't remember telling you anything about my tastes. How did you know?” I ask, intrigued.
“Intuition,” she responds, giving a very slow lick to her ice cream with her flat tongue that manages to make me tremble.
Damn dream that won't let me think clearly.
