gestured to the woman standing in the shadowed
corner. “This is my mother, Sophia. She washed all the aller-
gens off you, so you should be fi ne here, for now. You’re
safe.”
She stepped forward and I got to see the face of the
woman with the angry voice. She wasn’t what I’d expected.
She was thin, with long gray- blond hair that had been twisted
into a ton of tiny ropes that hung halfway down her back.
Her skin was dark but not caramel like Adrien’s— hers looked
worn and leathery. She was wearing green trousers and a
96
G L I TC H
sleeveless undershirt. Her eyes were keen but a little glazed
like she was tired. I nodded to her, unsure of what to say and
wondering if she knew I’d heard most of their conversation
about me.
“Greetings,” I said, using the Community salutation with-
out thinking.
She raised one slim eyebrow. “Greetings,” she said causti-
cally, then shook her head and left the room through a side
door.
“She does not approve of me.” I stared after her.
“Ignore her,” Adrien said. “She’s just . . .” He paused,
looking after her with a frustrated look. “Just . . . my mom.
“Anyway.” He came closer. “I’m so glad you’re awake.
You scared the cracking hell out of me. You’d stopped
breathing and I was so afraid—” He shook his head like
clearing away the memory. “Luckily Mom keeps an epi-
nephrine shot in her med kit. Can you sit up? Or do you
need to rest more?”
“I want to sit.” I tried to push myself up with my tired
arms. I felt more exhausted than I had in my entire life.
Adrien sprang up and helped me into a sitting position, ar-
ranging the pillows behind my head so I didn’t have to hold
it up on my own.
“Do you think you can eat?” He handed me a plate with a
few pieces of buttered bread. I took it eagerly. I was starving.
“This tastes good,” I said, my mouth full of bread. I felt
like I hadn’t eaten in days.
He smiled and pulled a chair close, sitting quietly while I
ate. I chewed slowly. He was so kind, so concerned about
97
Heather Anastasiu
me. Someone who understood. I couldn’t keep my gaze away
from him. The strong line of his jaw, his sharp aquiline nose,
thick eyebrows. And then those clear crystalline eyes.
“Zo? Something wrong?” he asked.
“No. I just like looking at you.”
“Oh.” A fl ush came into his cheeks and I wondered if I’d
said something wrong. But he smiled quickly and leaned
closer. “I like looking at you too.”
I smiled, and it actually felt natural on my face. I liked the
idea of him looking at me that way. And it felt so nice to be
able to move my face into so many diff erent expressions
without fear of being seen, caught, and deactivated.
“So, do you like our secret hideout?” He laughed. “Actu-
ally, it’s an old bomb shelter. So far Com Corp hasn’t dis-
covered it yet. Mom and I stumbled across it years ago and
come back to it every now and then.”
He sat back, stretching his arms up to lace his fi ngers be-
hind his head as he looked around the room. His shirt was
tight on his chest when he did that, showing his lean, sharp
muscles moving underneath. He was skinny, but far from
emaciated. I could see the outline of his ribs when he took a
deep breath, but I followed the line of his torso up to his
wider, wiry- but- still- muscled chest. His lips curled up on the
edges, smirking at some thought that had crossed his mind.
My breath seemed to leave me again as I watched him.
I looked back at his face, and was startled to meet his eyes.
One side of his lips quirked up further into a wide smile.
I turned away quickly, trying to relax my face into some-
thing more casual.
98
G L I TC H
“I heard you and your mother talking. About visions of
me. What did you mean?”
He fi ddled with the edges of a blanket that had fallen
off me.
“I’m sorry you had to hear that. She can be crackin’ harsh.
I know she means well,
corner. “This is my mother, Sophia. She washed all the aller-
gens off you, so you should be fi ne here, for now. You’re
safe.”
She stepped forward and I got to see the face of the
woman with the angry voice. She wasn’t what I’d expected.
She was thin, with long gray- blond hair that had been twisted
into a ton of tiny ropes that hung halfway down her back.
Her skin was dark but not caramel like Adrien’s— hers looked
worn and leathery. She was wearing green trousers and a
96
G L I TC H
sleeveless undershirt. Her eyes were keen but a little glazed
like she was tired. I nodded to her, unsure of what to say and
wondering if she knew I’d heard most of their conversation
about me.
“Greetings,” I said, using the Community salutation with-
out thinking.
She raised one slim eyebrow. “Greetings,” she said causti-
cally, then shook her head and left the room through a side
door.
“She does not approve of me.” I stared after her.
“Ignore her,” Adrien said. “She’s just . . .” He paused,
looking after her with a frustrated look. “Just . . . my mom.
“Anyway.” He came closer. “I’m so glad you’re awake.
You scared the cracking hell out of me. You’d stopped
breathing and I was so afraid—” He shook his head like
clearing away the memory. “Luckily Mom keeps an epi-
nephrine shot in her med kit. Can you sit up? Or do you
need to rest more?”
“I want to sit.” I tried to push myself up with my tired
arms. I felt more exhausted than I had in my entire life.
Adrien sprang up and helped me into a sitting position, ar-
ranging the pillows behind my head so I didn’t have to hold
it up on my own.
“Do you think you can eat?” He handed me a plate with a
few pieces of buttered bread. I took it eagerly. I was starving.
“This tastes good,” I said, my mouth full of bread. I felt
like I hadn’t eaten in days.
He smiled and pulled a chair close, sitting quietly while I
ate. I chewed slowly. He was so kind, so concerned about
97
Heather Anastasiu
me. Someone who understood. I couldn’t keep my gaze away
from him. The strong line of his jaw, his sharp aquiline nose,
thick eyebrows. And then those clear crystalline eyes.
“Zo? Something wrong?” he asked.
“No. I just like looking at you.”
“Oh.” A fl ush came into his cheeks and I wondered if I’d
said something wrong. But he smiled quickly and leaned
closer. “I like looking at you too.”
I smiled, and it actually felt natural on my face. I liked the
idea of him looking at me that way. And it felt so nice to be
able to move my face into so many diff erent expressions
without fear of being seen, caught, and deactivated.
“So, do you like our secret hideout?” He laughed. “Actu-
ally, it’s an old bomb shelter. So far Com Corp hasn’t dis-
covered it yet. Mom and I stumbled across it years ago and
come back to it every now and then.”
He sat back, stretching his arms up to lace his fi ngers be-
hind his head as he looked around the room. His shirt was
tight on his chest when he did that, showing his lean, sharp
muscles moving underneath. He was skinny, but far from
emaciated. I could see the outline of his ribs when he took a
deep breath, but I followed the line of his torso up to his
wider, wiry- but- still- muscled chest. His lips curled up on the
edges, smirking at some thought that had crossed his mind.
My breath seemed to leave me again as I watched him.
I looked back at his face, and was startled to meet his eyes.
One side of his lips quirked up further into a wide smile.
I turned away quickly, trying to relax my face into some-
thing more casual.
98
G L I TC H
“I heard you and your mother talking. About visions of
me. What did you mean?”
He fi ddled with the edges of a blanket that had fallen
off me.
“I’m sorry you had to hear that. She can be crackin’ harsh.
I know she means well,
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