She glances over her shoulder. A loose lock of raven hair is stuck to the corner of her mouth, but she makes no attempt to move it. Probably because her gloved hands are covered in dirt.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Incorrect; I very much did answer your question. It’s not my fault you don’t like the one I’ve given.”
“Youwillmiss him.”
I watch her plunge her hands into the muck and grimace at this anomaly of a woman. Mud clings to the leather, and she wipes it against her jeans without a second thought before digging through a different area. Watching her mess around hits a nerve somewhere inside me. I’ve never liked dirt. Hate it on my skin, under my nails.
Yet there she is, splashing around, and I can’t look away.
“It’s not aboutmissinghim, per se,” I force the words through clenched teeth. Had this been somebody else, I would’ve taken satisfaction from the struggle, from seeing one’s body physically reacting to the very thought of expressing any sort of affection.
Francesca’s delighted squeak fuels the rest of what I have to say. “I’m listening.”
“It’s about balance… in a way, of sorts…” My eyes narrow, tracing the shape of her crouched figure. “Kai makes noise wherever he goes, and I’d say I usually contain it. So when he leaves, I’ll notice the silence. That’s it.” To rid my tongue of the flavour of fondness, I slip in a lie. “It’s one of the only things I like about him, his ability to fill the quiet.”
“That’s a poetic way of admitting you’ll miss him.”
She moves again, from one patch of reeds to another. Her knees hit the ground, and the reeds part, making space for her. She honest-to-fuckcrawlsa few paces to the right, tracking an invisible string only she can see.As the wind gets colder, I regret leaving my gloves in the car and stuff my hands into my pockets.
I’m well aware that she has baited me again, but all I can think is, ‘What the fuck is she doing?’
Not just the action; that I can understand. But it’s thewayshe’s searching for something, uncaring that dirt splatters against her. I should be repulsed. In truth, I partly am, on some cellular level. Yet I’m also intrigued as hell.
I hate it.
Instead of grabbing her by the hips, throwing her over my shoulder and returning to the car, I foolishly dig my Oxfords deeper into mud with each step closer. “You know, centuries of human innovation have led to tools that easily could’ve done this for you.”
“Is me on my knees in dirt insulting your upbringing?”
“Just my self-control, apparently.” I halt when she flicks dirt in my direction. “Charming. I hope you plan on bathing in disinfectant once you return to the castle.”
“Mmm,” she says, wrist deep in decay. “Planning on pouring it on me, are you? You still haven’t admitted that you’re going to miss Kairos.”
She turns around as she says this, and I spot constellations of mud freckling her skin. I shake my head. “Francesca, I understand those boys probably emptied an array of trinkets out here, but a Sheffolk heir grubbing through lake scum isn’t the solution.”
“Iamthe lake scum.”
I’ve no response to those self-deprecating words, practically handing her the victory. Were we not in the open air, the satisfaction radiating from her would’ve suffocated us both. Silent, I choose to keep inventory: five smears on her jumper, the knees of the denim are beyond saving, and the laces of her right boot are drowned serpents trailing behind her.
The bank sucks at my shoes, and I have only myself to blame. I didn’t even realise I moved directly behind her now. “I don’t know what you think you’re going to find. Chances are that anything those boys left behind would’ve been cleared by now. This place matters to your people. Authorities would’ve combed the area.”
“Then explain this.”
She stands, and in her hands, I see it. For a breath, I think it’s the remnants of a crushed soda can or just a regular piece ofmetal. She brings it towards my face, and I see that it’s a pin. Aschoolpin. Beneath the badge reads ‘Valridge Prep’.
That’s not what makes me pause, though. I couldn’t give a fuck about some private academy. What grabs my focus is the way she clutches the pin as though it’s proved something she needed to believe.
“You’re relieved, why?”
She doesn’t answer me. Her fingers close around the pin and shove it into her pocket with the urgency of somebody hiding explosives. Not tucked away but stuffed, smearing dirt along the front of her jeans along the way.
“You still never admitted?—”
I don’t let her finish. “Stop this small talk. I’m begging you.”
“I’m makingconversation,” she drags the word with a smile, apparently sunshine in human form now that she’s crawled through hell for a piece of trash. “Filling the quiet. Didn’t think you’d complain considering what you just said about Kai.”
