Someone inhales sharply. Someone else mutters something and he says “Shut up” to no one in particular.
Great. Ten seconds and we’ve both made it weird.
“He’s not wrong.”
The voice comes from the window and I turn toward it and—
My mouth goes dry.
Blue.
That’s it. That’s the only thing in my head. Eyes so blue they hurt to look at, and I can’t make myself stop. Dark hair, messy, falling into his face. Rings on his fingers. He’s looking at me like he already knows something I don’t.
I’m staring. I know I’m staring. I can’t make myself stop.
He smirks.
My face goes hot again. I look at the floor.
“Ignore Kyron.” The auburn one, still red. “He’s like that with everyone.”
“I’m not like anything.”
“You’re staring.”
“I’m observing.”
“There’s really not a difference.”
“There’s a significant—”
“Do you want to sit down?”
The golden one. I turn too fast, overcorrect, have to catch my balance on nothing. He’s moved closer—when did he move?—and he’s holding out the glass of water. His hands aren’t quite steady.
I notice. I don’t know why I notice.
“She just got here.” Locke, behind me. “Give her a second.”
“I’m just—”
“Vaelor.”
One word and the golden one stops. They’re having a conversation I don’t speak and I’m standing in the middle of it with my weight on the wrong foot.
“I’m fine.” Too sharp. I hear it. Can’t fix it. “I don’t need to sit. I don’t need water either.”
I take a breath trying to calm myself but it’s not working.
Nobody argues. Nobody looks away either.
Vaelor sets the water on the counter. I should say thank you or something but the words don’t come.
“I’m Rane.” The one on the couch. He’s stayed where he is, giving me space. “That’s Vaelor. Kyron’s by the window—”
“Still staring,” Kyron says.
“—still staring, and Beckett’s in the chair.”
