Fly felt something shift under his ribs.
“You watch first,” Mei went on, more confident now. “You don’t rush in swinging. You take it all in, figure out what matters, and then you move. When you do, it’s always at exactly the right moment.”
She shrugged, a small, self-conscious gesture. “That’s what kites do. They don’t hover for show. They wait for the current. They see the whole field.”
Fly swallowed. “So you bought me cuff links because I overthink?”
Than snorted.
Mei smiled, soft but certain. “No, smartass who’s trying to deflect emotion. I bought them because you know when not to strike. That’s rarer than people think.”
Fly looked back down at the bird, the long wings caught mid-glide, and for a second he couldn’t find anything clever to say, just the warmth of Mei settling deep in his chest.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
She smiled. “You’re welcome.”
“My first thought had been…longhorns.”
His laugh came out easy and genuine. “That would have been appropriate.” He looked up at her, eyes bright. “We had this gigantic bull back home we called Marshmallow.”
Than snorted. “You mean you named him Marshmallow.”
Fly laughed. “He was a big softie. It fit.”
Mei laughed with them, the sound light and happy, and for a moment the room felt full in a way that had nothing to do with mirrors or tuxes or fundraisers.
Than was still tingling from the way Mei had touched him in the tailor’s shop, light, precise, lingering just long enough to register as something he would carry with him all night. His gut twisted as they stepped out onto Main Street, the late afternoon alive with voices and movement, the world indifferent to the way his chest felt too tight.
Across the street, a cluster of mids spilled out of the coffee shop. One spotted Fly immediately.
“Fly!” she shouted, enthusiasm tipping into spectacle.
Fly stopped and smiled, easy and unguarded, lifting a hand in greeting. “Ladies. Enjoying this beautiful day?”
One of them rose and crossed the street, confidence sharpened by attention. “Ah, the Brain Trust all together.” Her gaze slid to Mei, then flicked back to Than. “You’re very greedy, keeping these two all to yourself.”
Mei’s mouth tightened. Her chin lifted. “We’re friends, Camilla,” she said coolly. “I’m not a cat in heat.”
Camilla laughed softly. “Ooh, meow. Maybe you’ve got more invested, and it doesn’t have anything to do with their brains.”
Than felt it immediately, the shift in Mei. Anger. Not because of Camilla’s jab, but because the attention in the street had settled, predictably and relentlessly, on Fly.
Than closed his eyes.
Was she in love with Fly?
The thought landed fully formed, brutal in its clarity. He hadn’t let himself think it before. Not really. He’d kept his distance because Mei had kept hers. Boundaries respected. Lines not crossed. But now the idea crashed through him like falling cinder blocks, each one heavier than the last.
Than was in love with her.
Oh, Ancestors…this was not good.
“I should get home,” Mei said abruptly, avoiding both their eyes. She gathered her dress over her arm and walked away without looking back.
Fly allowed himself to be pulled toward the table, dragging Than with him. Laughter followed. Questions. Flirting that barely pretended to be subtle. Hands on Fly’s arm. Eyes tracking his smile. Than sat rigid, fury coiling tighter with every second.
Finally, he stood. “I’ve got studying to do.”
