“I did?” She sounds genuinely surprised.
“Yeah. We talked about it all through breakfast.” Or rather, I had talked while she’d nodded along, mentally somewhere else entirely. I could’ve asked for her firstborn to sacrifice and she probably would’ve agreed.
So yeah, I took advantage and got her to agree to this. Dubious consent aside, I’m still cashing it in. Partly because I hate cold plunges and refuse to suffer alone, but also because it might actually help her clear her head.
There’s something about freezing your balls off that brings everything into sharp focus. Not that she has balls, of course. But I’m sure the principle works just as well for girls.
“Did you forget, or did I hallucinate the whole conversation?” I ask.
“No, I didn’t forget,” she lies, shutting her eyes and sighing. “You’re right. I did say I would. I just… don’t know if I’m up for it right now.”
“Oh no, don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet. Pun intended.”
“No, I just…”
“Well, if you’re not doing it, then I’m not doing it either.” I fold my arms. “Who cares about my five-month streak?”
“Five-month streak?”
“Yeah. Once a week, every week, for five months. Helps my mood, my anxiety, proves I can stick to something even when it sucks. But honestly, I wasn’t feeling it today. I was relying on you to drag me in. But if you’re busy?—”
“No, I’m not busy,” she cuts in too quickly, too sharply. Total lie.
She bites her lip, and I can practically see the guilt settling in. She doesn’t want to be the reason I break the streak.
Resignation flickers across her face. “Just give me a second, alright? Let me get ready.”
“Sure. Bathing suit’s fine.”
She shuts the door, and I lean back, whistling as I think it through.
Because this weirdness didn’t start here. It started earlier. Maybe even before I saw her with Reid in the hallway.
It might’ve started when she grabbed a plate of food for Talon.
She’d looked flushed then too, which didn’t make sense—it wasn’t hot out. I figured Tal had said something awkward or done something off. That’s pretty standard for him.
The guy grew up on this mountain. Before Reid and I showed up, he probably saw other humans a couple dozen times a year, max. Even now, he keeps to himself. If you don’t know him, he can come off intimidating as hell.
But people don’t usually bring French toast to someone they’re scared of.
That’s what stuck with me. She wanted to take it to him. Wanted to stay and watch him work. I even offered to go instead, give her an out, but she insisted.
At the time, I figured she was just being nice. Grateful.
Now?
Now I’m thinking something happened between them.
Unexpected, sure. But so was walking in on Tal holding her while she cried, looking like he’d rip my head off if I got too close. I’ve never seen him like that, and Sierra doesn’t strike me as someone who cries in a stranger’s arms.
So yeah. Maybe there’s something there.
A spark.
A moment.
A line crossed.