Page 44 of Elas

MychestacheswhenI wake the next morning. Not like I slept on it wrong, or I’m sick. It just… aches. Ithurts. I sit up and rub my eyes, missing the warmth that comes from Elas’s body spooned against mine. Last night, it took me hours to fall asleep, and my resolve was almost broken as I listened to him tossing and turning as well.

Embarrassment makes heat creep up my face and neck as I remember what happened for the hundredth time. This explosive chemistry between us is something I’ve never experienced. Everything came to a head after we took that first step and admitted that the things we’re feeling are mutual.

It is a strange, selfish comfort, knowing we’re both adrift in the same sea of uncertainty. No matter how confused and convoluted my feelings might be, he’s experiencing them, too. We’re trying to figure this out, while both of us are uncertain about our future together.

And then he’d winked at me and left me there to think about what the confession means… what it might lead to if we act on our attraction. For hours, I’d fought it until I couldn’t take it anymore, and well…

Then I gave him a show I never meant to put on.

A soft grunt comes from his bedroom, and a potent longing tugs at my heart. It’s the noise he makes when he first wakes up and stretches his arms over his head. His feet shuffle as he climbs out of bed and walks to the bathroom. He hesitates, but ultimately goes inside and closes the door behind him with a click.

I hate how uncertain I’ve made him.

I never intended to hurt his feelings or shut him down. All night, I’ve worried that he interpreted my words as a rejection, when that couldn’t be further from the truth. It just wasn’t the right time for an emotionally charged conversation. We were both flustered and worked up, and he had just listened to me gasping his name while I came all over myself. I groan again, reliving the scorching embarrassment. Rational conversation was impossible with the tension, because both of us were still thinking about it. It made sense to take a night apart to sleep it off, but now…

Now Imisshim when he’s only feet away.

Another insistent ache thuds in my chest as the shower rains against the tub. My bare legs stick out from underneath his shirt as I stand, and I flush as the memories assault my mind. Unbidden, my eyes move towards the bathroom, wondering how much he could see in the dark. Did he like what he saw?

“Gods, what is wrong with me?” I mutter, scrubbing my hands over my face.

I walk into the kitchen to busy myself, toasting a few pieces of bread. Toasters are simple appliances, but I’m fascinated by the red coils inside as they heat. They’re something we never had at the camps I lived in. We had a few large ovens that ran on solar panels, but more often than not, cooking was done over a fire.

As I’m spreading butter and strawberry jam over the toast, the bathroom door clicks and my heart ramps up in my chest. Elas walks in wearing nothing but his leather pants, and water creates sapphire dewdrops that cling to his skin. The knife clangs to the counter, and he glances up at me in surprise before a sly smile crosses his mouth.

“Good morning, doc.” He saunters over, and I realize too late that I’m staring at the expanse of blue skin that covers his rippling muscles.

“I made you breakfast,” I blurt, swinging my eyes to his as his smile softens into something sweeter. “I, uh, wasn’t sure if you were going to eat in the galley or not, and I didn’t want you to be hungry. And I really, really didn’t want you to be mad at me for last night,” I say in a rush, not bothering to take a breath. “Because I don’t think I could stand knowing that you’re mad at me all day when I can’t do anything about it. So, here’s your apology toast. Please tell me you aren’t mad.”

“Fuck, you’re sweet,” he mutters, walking closer until he’s standing in front of me. There are only inches between us, his head tilted down to meet my eyes. “I don’t think I could ever be mad at you, August.”

A heavy exhale rushes from my lungs as I smash my face into his chest. He chuckles again, wrapping his arms around my back and hugging me against him. “Do you promise?” I whisper, resting my chin on his sternum and glancing up. The urge to lift onto my toes and kiss him has me fidgeting, and he seems to be having the same struggle with his self control.

“I solemnly swear to never, ever get mad at you.”

A quiet laugh leaves me as he grins. “You can’t promise that, Elas. At some point, I’m going to make you mad.”

An unconvinced hum rumbles in his throat as he tilts his head back and forth. “Maybe, maybe not. But okay, promises are important to you, so how about this?” He meets my eyes with a rare seriousness in his. “I swear that if I ever get mad at you, even if we fight, we’ll always find our way back to each other.”

Thick emotion balls in my throat as I force a swallow. “You say that like you’re planning on sticking around.”

“August,” he whispers as he inches forward, then catches himself.

“What a hole we’ve dug ourselves into, huh?” I tease, and something flickers across his face. Guilt, perhaps, or uncertainty.

“Tonight.” He drags his thumb up and down my spine where he still holds onto me, and I shiver at the tickle. “We’re having this conversation tonight.”

“Tonight,” I agree, and force myself to pull away, knowing we have to get our days started. I slide his breakfast over the counter, and he gives me another heartbreakingly sweet smile before he digs in.

Everything is normal at the clinic when we walk in.

Normal,normal.

There are no impending attacks, or guards standing ready to escort me back to the cells. The same staff occupy their same spots, just like every other day. The bleak, colorless walls are still spotless and the faint lemony scent of industrial cleaners permeates the air like it always does.

I’m immediately suspicious.

“All good?” Elas murmurs from behind me, and once again, I’m tempted to dive into the safety of his arms.

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