She pulled back. His eyes were almost entirely black. He was focused solely on her, drinking in the expression on her face. She didn’t even care to hide just how much she needed him, but it seemed to confuse him.
He blinked.
Then his gaze jumped to the pink flower on the table beside them. He released her, which almost drove her mad. As she was about to pull him back to her, he snatched the flower and plucked it from the soil.
He ripped it apart in his hands, then ran halfway across the room before she realized what had happened.
Bisma felt as if she’d been doused in ice water. The fog that had come over her cleared, leaving her lightheaded.
‘What was that? Xander, what did you grow?’ she asked, catching her breath. Her head was spinning. She grabbed a nearby glass of water, drinking it with shaking hands.
‘Nothing!’ Xander replied, his voice high. He was standing behind a table, gripping it so tightly his knuckles had turned white.
Dots connected in her mind, drawing a most infuriating conclusion.
‘Alexander Chapman, did you grow alustplant?’
How quickly his face turned red was answer enough.
‘XANDER.’
‘You’re the one who said to just feel it!’ he complained.
She groaned into her hands before glaring at him. ‘Oh, I’m going to kill you.’
‘God, Bis, don’t look at me.’
He had very purposefully not stepped out from behind the table.
She forced herself to turn around, still reeling from the fog of lust that had overcome her. Her entire body pulsed.
She felt nauseous, her stomach in painful knots.
The sooner she found the cure, the sooner she would be free of Xander’s company—free of all theseemotions.
20
Back at the treehouse, Bisma busied herself, but, even so, she kept thinking of Xander’s dark eyes, his hands at her waist. Just the memory of it made her stomach twist, made her jittery.
At the very least, at home she could hardly hear her own thoughts, the girls were being so loud. Bisma was at the table, opening up the hem of one of Mei’s dresses to make it longer, while Mei and Luna were in the kitchen, chatting.
From the living room, Bisma heard Azalea’s third consecutive frustrated groan in the past thirty seconds.
‘NORI,’ Azalea snapped, ‘why don’t you know how to spell?’
‘I do!’ Nori cried, outraged by the (accurate) accusation.
It was Azalea’s turn to teach the five-year-old, a task that drove one to the very edge of sanity.
Luna and Mei snickered from the kitchen, and Bisma gave them a scolding glance.
‘OK, so how do you spellland?’ Azalea asked.
‘Uh … um …’ Nori stuttered. ‘J-J?’
‘No!L!’ Azalea cried. ‘Baji! I literally cannot do this anymore! My head hurts, and I’m tired, and she’s not learninganything, and I want to take a nap.’
Bisma sighed, her fingers working along the dress’s hem. ‘Azalea, quit complaining. We could easily switch tasks but you need to have some patience. You’re always huffing and puffing;try calming down a little. And, Nori, do try to pay attention, sweet.’
