Andyet,there’sstillsomuchIdon’tknowabout him.
“I wanna play a game,” I say suddenly, sitting up and crossing my legs as the idea clicks into place.
“Oh yeah?” he asks, eyebrows lifting with interest. “What kind of game?”
“Notthatkind,” I say quickly. “A question game. I ask something, and you answer.”
He pretends to think about it. “Am I allowed to ask questions too?”
I sigh dramatically. “I guess.”
We trade questions back and forth, silly ones, embarrassing ones, things that make us laugh and groan in equal measure.
When my turn comes again, I feel the need to ask more serious questions. “Tell me something no one knows about you.”
He stills, the playfulness fading as he considers it, gaze drifting somewhere inward. When he finally looks back at me, his expression is guarded.
“I really did love you at first sight.”
My heart stops. Fully. Completely. I’m gone.
“Gods, you’re such a fucking romantic,” I mutter to break the tension.
He just shrugs. “It’s true. I went home that day and told my parents I’d met the boy I was going to marry.”
I blink. “You said that?”
“Of course I did,” he says easily. “They were ecstatic. You’ll see eventually when they come for family week.”
“You guys sound like you’re close,” I say, rubbing absently at my chest.
He nods, a faint sadness softening his handsome features.The light catches in his eyes, making them deeper somehow. “We are. I hope you’ll become close with them, too. They’ve been our biggest supporters since the very beginning.” He hesitates before asking his next question. “Do you miss your parents?”
I tilt my head back and forth, cracking my neck to buy time to think. His question lands heavier than I expected. Do I miss them? I avoid thinking about my parents so thoroughly that the idea of missing them feels foreign. I don’t miss my dad. The memories I have of him are all sharp edges and fear.
But my mom…
When she was sober, she was my safety. Her gentle hands and soft laughter guided me through the minefield my father wreaked on the house. She loved me the way a mother should when she could. When she couldn’t, it was like I disappeared entirely. I was a ghost in my own home, watching her chase the next hit. Always just one last hit. Nothing else mattered.
“I’m not sure,” I finally say. “They were never really that great of parents. I mean, my mom tried, but my dad and the drugs kept her away from me. I guess I kind of miss sober her.” I shrug; the vulnerability I’m feeling sits wrong. I feel too exposed.
Aksel nods solemnly, taking in my answer without judgment. There’s no pity in his gaze, none of that awkward sympathy people usually offer when they hear my story. Instead, there’s something firmer there. Resolve? Like he’s quietly deciding something I’m not privy to.
“Okay,” I say, clearing my throat and forcing a lighter tone. “My turn.”
He raises a brow in suspicion as he senses my attempt at changingthe mood.
“What does your… anatomy look like in your kraken form?”
His laughter bursts out of him, breaking the tension instantly. “Maybe I’ll show you if you win.”
“Really?” My interest sparks. “You’d shift for me?”
Showing someone your shifted form is extremely intimate.
“I don’t know if I would shift fully,” he says with a shrug that is far too casual for what he’s offering, “but I’d definitely do a partial shift for you.” He hesitates, then asks more softly, “Can I see your tail one day?”
Gods, I miss shifting. I didn’t realize how much of myself lived in the water until I went without it. When the stress built up or the sadness settled too deeply, I used to slip beneath the surface and let it all fall away. I took Eric’s private pool for granted, thinking of it as little more than an easy convenience. Now it feels like a release I didn’t fully understand.
