The living room is full and everyone’s acting like they have a secret.
Kyron’s on the couch with his phone but he keeps glancing up. Vaelor’s in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, trying to look relaxed. Rane won’t look at me at all, which makes my face warm forreasons I’m not examining. Locke’s standing by the window. Beckett drifts past me to the armchair like he wasn’t just playing escort.
And in the middle of all of them, grinning like she’s won the lottery, is Zoe.
“There she is!” She crosses the room and grabs my hands before I can react. “I’m stealing you.”
“Stealing me?”
“Shopping. Lunch. Girl time.” She tugs me toward the door. “You’ve been drowning in testosterone for almost two weeks. You need a break.”
I glance back. They’re all doing a very bad job of acting normal. Rane’s finally looking at me and the expression on his face makes my stomach flip.
“Have fun,” Locke says. Almost warm. For him.
Weird.
Zoe laughs and pulls me out the door before I can figure out what’s going on.
The shopping center is bright and loud and overwhelming in a completely different way than the Academy. Places like this used to watch me through the window until I moved on. Security would appear if I lingered too long near an entrance. Shop owners would find reasons to step outside, arms crossed, waiting for me to take the hint.
Now Zoe pulls me through the doors like I belong here. Holds up clothes against me, asks my opinion, actually listens when I say what I like. No one asks us to leave. No one watches to make sure I don’t steal anything.
It’s disorienting. I keep waiting for someone to notice I’m not supposed to be here.
It’s… nice. Weird, but nice.
“Okay, this,” she says,shoving a soft forest green sweater into my arms. “This is perfect for you. Try it on.”
“I don’t need—”
“Try it on.”
I try it on. It fits. It’s the softest thing I’ve ever worn.
“We’re getting it,” Zoe says, and before I can argue she’s already taken it to the register.
“Zoe, I can’t—I don’t have any money.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m not letting you pay for—”
“I’m not paying for it.” She pulls a card out of her wallet and hands it to the cashier. The name on it reads KYRON VALE.
I stare at it.
“What is that?”
Zoe winces. “Shit.”
“Zoe.”
“I wasn’t supposed to—look, it’s fine, they wanted—”
“Tell me.”
She sighs, handing the bag to me and steering me away from the register. “Come on. I know just the place for this conversation.”
