Page 13 of Citius

But the last sensory requirement was too easy. The taste of bitterness never left my mouth.

***

My alarm went off at five-thirty, the time hard-wired into my brain after years of gymnastics practice. I was ready to start the day, but the cats needed to be convinced. Kip burrowed against my neck, while Tenny was a toasty bundle of affection nestled between my knees.

“You can go right back to sleep, I promise,” I said as I extricated myself and inched toward the edge of the mattress. Thankfully, I listened to Jacobi and went with a queen-size. It was too much for me alone, but with two bed-hogging cats, anything smaller would have been a nightmare.

Large matte green tiles covered the bathroom floor and walls. A canvas print of one of Jacobi’s dreamier abstract oil paintings hung over a giant soaker tub. It took two tries before I grasped my hairbrush. Depth perception hiccups in the morning were nothing new. I should have put my glasses on as soon as I woke up.

I pulled as much of my hair as possible into a ponytail, swapped my pajamas for workout gear, and eased into the familiar comfort of mymorning groove. Routine was perhaps the one element of gymnastics I hadn’t been forced to give up. The repetition soothed me. I didn’t need to make decisions. My goal was to get from point A to point B.

First, I worked out in our home gym for an hour, moving from stretches to cardio exercises to the elliptical. Then I showered and dressed.

My game day attire was a Narwhals sweatshirt and fleece vest. The outfit was decent enough for fall, but my small selection of Northport gear was no match for winter weather. I needed a coat and hat, maybe a few sweaters.

Cal had some. Nice ones. Well, as nice as any sweater featuring a pirate narwhal mascot could hope to be.

I added a reminder on my phone to check the university store website later.

Breakfast was oatmeal with a side of pills, made palatable by heaping on fresh raspberries and almond slivers. Kelsey wasn’t awake yet, but Kip was more than happy to keep me company in her stead, sprawled out on the island, giving each of his four white paws a thorough cleaning while I ate.

After verifying that my work bag contained everything I might need for the day, I put on my sunglasses, said goodbye to the cats, and locked the door behind me. Jacobi’s loft—no, unit 602—was still quiet.

That was good. I could handle quiet neighbors. But a pack? My head ached at the thought. Packs meant larger numbers of people and more noise.

I surveyed the parking garage as I made my way to my car and scanned the front of the building as I pulled out. No moving van in sight.

Jacobi would have to keep waiting for his Owen update.

Six

Joaquin

The urge to touch my bond mark on Alijah’s skin was like an addiction. One good scratch, and I’d be fine. Just one more touch for the road. And another to survive the last leg of our move.

“Stop it.” Alijah gave my hand a light swat, his eyes never leaving the expressway. “It’s healed. No need to keep fussing over it.”

“Maybe I like the fuss.”

“Yeah, but not while I’m driving. And don’t think I’ve forgiven you for flashing Morgan like that yesterday.”

Forgiveness was the last thing I wanted from Morgan Van Daal.

She’d been a frequent highlight of Alijah’s workday for weeks. I had chalked it up to the excitement of collaborating with a former Olympic champion. Alijah was the type of kid who mooned over pretty gold medalists on cereal boxes. The shine would fade, and he’d find a new show or podcast to obsess over.

Or so I thought—until that night at the ballet.

Lighting was vital to a successful production, but it was hard to show off, especially to someone like Alijah, who gets swept away by the performances and music.Giselleleft him so emotionally bereft that it took him two days of processing before he remembered to compliment my work.

The lighting design forA Midsummer Night’s Dreamwas rather good if I do say so myself—a surreal mix of muted pastels and swathes of moonlight, giving the stage an ethereal quality. Queen Titania’s entrance,with her twelve-foot-long cape of lavender tulle and three spotlights, was supposed to have an impact.

It wasn’t supposed to take my mate’s breath away.

Something about Titania, whether the column of her throat or the regal tilt of her head as everyone bowed to her, made Alijah sit up straighter in his seat. Ballet dancers are aesthetically pleasing, after all, but this was different. Desire blossomed on his end of the bond—and he immediately shut it down.

On the drive home, he tried to brush it off. The resemblance between the dancer playing Titania and Morgan caught him off guard. That was all. Even in the low light of my truck, I could tell his cheeks were flushed…and he was lying by omission.

So, I started paying more attention to our bond throughout the workday. Sure enough, he was shielding his emotions more often. Granted, he had plenty of legitimate reasons—stressing over deadlines and underperforming videos, with his anxiety disorder always lurking in the background—but it still stung. Why couldn’t he be honest with me?

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