“I used to,” he replies. “It felt like the perfect place for me, back in the day.”
“I can see that.”
“But when I met Cassian and Talon, and found a new purpose in uncovering the truth, I knew it would come with a compromise. The lives of people who fall in line with the system are full of rules.” His eyes narrow in a dreamy sort of way, like a man who’s made peace with something that haunted him for a long time. “I realized I don’t like rules. Not even the ones that suited me best.”
I study the small details of his face. His piercings glint in the light.
He’s a strange man. A walking contradiction.
Sometimes I think he’s being swallowed by guilt when he remembers all the things he’s done. Like Talon. And then, in the next breath, he’d do it all again for some larger purpose. He isn’t as hardheaded as Cassian, and he says he doesn’t like rules, yet he keeps making them for himself every step of the way, as if control is the only thing keeping him steady.
He’s many things at once: human and alien, made of stone and yet fragile on the inside.
I don’t get it.
But I don’t have to get everything about him to know how I feel.
“Is that why you got all these?” I ask, lifting a hand to touch the piercing in his lip. The skin there is warm and soft.
Nathaniel goes still, as if my touch arrests him.
Come to think of it… he likes to touch me, but I touch him so rarely.
His eyes drop to my mouth for a brief, scorching second.
“Partially,” he says. “I was advised against them in my previous profession.”
“Right.”
My finger drags along the line of his lip, grazing the edge where metal meets skin.
His pupils dilate.
“There’s still so much I don’t know about you,” I breathe, giving him a glimpse of my thoughts.
“I’m not very interesting.”
“That can’t be right.”
“Skye,” he says quietly.
“I meant what I said before.” I drag my finger across his lip again, slower this time, letting my nail scrape the metal of his piercing. His hand curls around the railing. “I fell in love with you.”
“Skye,” he repeats.
“I know so little about you, and my heart doesn’t care,” I whisper. His throat bobs. “And I know our situation is completely unusual. We can’t hope for much time together.”
He follows my line of thought perfectly.
“My crimes will catch up to me someday.”
“And I won’t stay here forever,” I add.
He’s probably the only one I can tell this to. He’s the only one who understands this part of me—my inevitability. He carries his own.
Too much is against us. There was never a moment of peace in our story, let alone the prospect of a happy ending.
But the feelings… they’re there.
