the cave, slip through the thin crack in the wall, and march into the shipping tunnel. Probably not the wisest thing to do given what we did to a bunch of sun dweller soldiers at the other end of the tunnel, but I need to cool off, and I can’t do that with my friends watching me.
Argh! I silently scream. How could I be so stupid? Did I really think that the son of the President of the Tri-Realms would be interested in me? His veins were probably full of some kind of love potion, mixed up by a mad scientist with an agenda and a proficiency for creating potent elixirs. But the thing is: I fell for Tristan, too, which was so unlike me. So maybe I’d been slipped a bit of the potion, forcing us together in the unlikeliest of pairings. The buzzing in my scalp and spine every time I was near Tristan was just a side effect of the drug, a neurological response to a catalyst. Nothing more. Not a connection, that’s for sure. When the buzzing and tingling stopped, perhaps the drug had worn off. We kidded ourselves into thinking that we still had feelings for each other, but really it was over the moment we peed or sweated or spat the last of the toxins from our bodies.
Could it really be a drug? My mind doesn’t even believe my own reasoning. It seems too farfetched, too sci-fi, too ridiculous .
Something my father once said to me pops into my head:
Sometimes the hardest things to believe are the ones that are the most true.
But sometimes they aren’t, too. Right?
Behind me there’s a scrape of cloth on rock and the scuffle of feet on hard ground. I didn’t even realize I stopped, but now I’m acutely aware that I only made it ten or so feet from the entrance to our hideaway before pulling up to puzzle over things in my head.
I stride in the other direction, hearing Tristan say, “Adele, wait!” behind me. Breaking into a run, I wish with all my heart that he’ll just let me be, leave me alone for however long it takes me to come to terms with what’s slowly dawning on me: we’re not meant to be together.
He doesn’t.
Instead, he races after me, his heavier, louder footfalls drowning out my own. I know he’ll catch me because he’s faster, but I don’t stop until his hand grabs my shoulder from behind.
I whirl on him, fire in my chest and eyes. “What!?” I scream, much louder than I should, given where we are.
“Please, Adele. We need to talk,” Tristan says, his face a mixture of white concern and red exertion. He’s still bare-chested, his muscles tight from our fight. I try not to stare at them. “Please,” he repeats.
Looking at his pitiful face, I can’t hold onto my anger, although I definitely try. He’s just so damn handsome, his wavy blond hair an inch from his evening-blue eyes, his lips red and full and a perfect match for his right-sized nose and strong jaw. And his voice is so full of longing that my mind draws a blank when I try to come up with a sarcastic comment.
With my ebbing anger, my shoulders sag and my knees weaken. The adrenaline from our harried sprint catches up with me, and it’s all I can do to lower myself slowly to the ground, lean back against the wall and hug my knees.
“I really don’t want to talk right now,” I say honestly.
Tristan dips down next to me, looks at me even though I refuse to look at him. Puts an arm around my shoulders, and although I feel like I should, I don’t shake it off. Swarms of bats flap unbridled through my stomach. Right away, I feel bad about all the things I’ve said to him. It’s not his fault we got played, like life-size pawns in some real chess match. He’s been nothing but good to me, even if he wasn’t entirely in control of his actions.
“Adele, I—I...”
I’m scared of his next words, scared they’ll make everything even worse, even harder.
“I just want to understand,” he says, and I let out a grateful breath. He deserves to understand. “Did Roc tell you something that you might have misunderstood? If
Argh! I silently scream. How could I be so stupid? Did I really think that the son of the President of the Tri-Realms would be interested in me? His veins were probably full of some kind of love potion, mixed up by a mad scientist with an agenda and a proficiency for creating potent elixirs. But the thing is: I fell for Tristan, too, which was so unlike me. So maybe I’d been slipped a bit of the potion, forcing us together in the unlikeliest of pairings. The buzzing in my scalp and spine every time I was near Tristan was just a side effect of the drug, a neurological response to a catalyst. Nothing more. Not a connection, that’s for sure. When the buzzing and tingling stopped, perhaps the drug had worn off. We kidded ourselves into thinking that we still had feelings for each other, but really it was over the moment we peed or sweated or spat the last of the toxins from our bodies.
Could it really be a drug? My mind doesn’t even believe my own reasoning. It seems too farfetched, too sci-fi, too ridiculous .
Something my father once said to me pops into my head:
Sometimes the hardest things to believe are the ones that are the most true.
But sometimes they aren’t, too. Right?
Behind me there’s a scrape of cloth on rock and the scuffle of feet on hard ground. I didn’t even realize I stopped, but now I’m acutely aware that I only made it ten or so feet from the entrance to our hideaway before pulling up to puzzle over things in my head.
I stride in the other direction, hearing Tristan say, “Adele, wait!” behind me. Breaking into a run, I wish with all my heart that he’ll just let me be, leave me alone for however long it takes me to come to terms with what’s slowly dawning on me: we’re not meant to be together.
He doesn’t.
Instead, he races after me, his heavier, louder footfalls drowning out my own. I know he’ll catch me because he’s faster, but I don’t stop until his hand grabs my shoulder from behind.
I whirl on him, fire in my chest and eyes. “What!?” I scream, much louder than I should, given where we are.
“Please, Adele. We need to talk,” Tristan says, his face a mixture of white concern and red exertion. He’s still bare-chested, his muscles tight from our fight. I try not to stare at them. “Please,” he repeats.
Looking at his pitiful face, I can’t hold onto my anger, although I definitely try. He’s just so damn handsome, his wavy blond hair an inch from his evening-blue eyes, his lips red and full and a perfect match for his right-sized nose and strong jaw. And his voice is so full of longing that my mind draws a blank when I try to come up with a sarcastic comment.
With my ebbing anger, my shoulders sag and my knees weaken. The adrenaline from our harried sprint catches up with me, and it’s all I can do to lower myself slowly to the ground, lean back against the wall and hug my knees.
“I really don’t want to talk right now,” I say honestly.
Tristan dips down next to me, looks at me even though I refuse to look at him. Puts an arm around my shoulders, and although I feel like I should, I don’t shake it off. Swarms of bats flap unbridled through my stomach. Right away, I feel bad about all the things I’ve said to him. It’s not his fault we got played, like life-size pawns in some real chess match. He’s been nothing but good to me, even if he wasn’t entirely in control of his actions.
“Adele, I—I...”
I’m scared of his next words, scared they’ll make everything even worse, even harder.
“I just want to understand,” he says, and I let out a grateful breath. He deserves to understand. “Did Roc tell you something that you might have misunderstood? If
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