Orange magic shone from my skin, sheer streaks of it cascading to the floor like a waterfall, pooling to hover over the ground. I grasped Bryce’s shoulders, meeting his movements, our breaths quickening and smiles fading. Subtle moans, light whimpers, and half words created our own language in our own world where only we existed.
He brushed hair off my sticky neck, winding it tightly around his fist at the base of my skull. My muscles tightened and tingled. He kissed me once, a gentle, barely-there caress, focused eyes never leaving mine as his breaths grew broken. His nose brushed my cheek, hand slipping between us, pressing where I wanted him. When I gasped and clung tighter, the corners of his mouth twitched, his smile ghosting over my lips.
As my legs clenched around him, he whispered my name into my ear like a curse—something widely considered foul that he liked having in his mouth. It sent a shiver down my spine,triggering my release. Wave after wave soared through me, making me feel lighter than air. It was like the adrenaline-filled satisfaction of getting the last word in during an argument or the heady exhilaration of ditching work. He followed shortly after, breath hitching into a soft sound that nearly undid me all over again.
After, we lay on the desk, Bryce’s arm tossed over my ribs and our legs entwined as we caught our breath. He turned to his side, gaze flitting over my face.
“You’re shadows,” he said softly, trailing a finger over the slope of my cheek.
“Hmm?” I let my head roll to face Bryce, the hard desk digging into my spine.
“You have to have shadows to have light. That’s you.”
“Gross,” I whispered, smiling. “Is this you trying to say I’m the light of your life again?”
“It’s me saying you’re the dark hellish abyss that makes the rest of my life look brighter in comparison.”
I warmed with pleasure. Being with Bryce made me feel discovered, like I was a crusty old painting yanked down from someone’s attic and appraised onAntiques Roadshowfor eighty-five dollars. Which admittedly wasn’t much, but it surpassed all expectations, so he was pleasantly surprised. The painting didn’t become something too grand to hang in a home. Instead, it was something to cherish, to hold on to a little tighter because there was more to it than once supposed. I liked being the mediocre keepsake Bryce had a soft spot for. I liked that he looked at me like he thought I was worth far more than any rational person would suspect.
The lazy blue glow around him flared a little brighter. I tucked in closer to him, the overwhelming, comfortable do-not-care feeling I experienced the last time we kissed settling warmly behind my ribs. I’d be happy to stop the world and melt with him.
“What are you thinking about?” he murmured against my hair.
“If a volcano exploded right now and lava engulfed us, when archaeologists come to explore years and years from now and fill our magma body shells like they did in Pompeii, we’d create the cutest little plaster people.”
“Fucking hell. What goes on in your mind?”
“Well, I was thinking about melting—”
“Shh.” Rolling over me, he pressed his lips to mine, cutting off my words.
Thinking about the end of the world reminded me we had to save it, which reminded me why I’d come to the library in the first place.
Just like that, our magical little space really was engulfed by a metaphorical volcano. The do-not-care feelings trickled away, replaced by doubts and fears and hesitation. Bryce said he’d tolerate me as I was, which was all I’d ever wanted. To be tolerated. The bare minimum.
And yet.
When we were trying to save Amy, Bryce listed all the things he liked about me—and they were all my positive traits: I saved water and sent birthday cards and rescued puppies. But I was still difficult and stubborn and prickly, and I wondered if he accepted my less desirable traits, too, or if he was actually just looking past them—and if he was, how long would he be able to ignore them.
“I found a book,” I said around kisses, voice muffled.
He smiled against my mouth. “In a library?” he breathed. “Inconceivable.”
I elbowed him lightly in the ribs. He caught my hand, thumb rubbing slow circles around my knuckles.
“A potion book.” I furrowed my brow. “I wasn’t able to read it thoroughly before you arrived to seduce me, but there’s one in there called a hero potion.”
“Like a superstrength potion or something?” he said distractedly, trailing kisses down my neck.
“No. Like I think it would turn us into heroes. I think it would change us, make us stop being bad at everything.”
He went still. I imagined he was wondering the same things I had. The consequences of a potion like that. What would be left after everything bad was removed—if there would be anything left at all.
In order to get home, I needed to be a hero. Becoming a hero would have the added bonus of removing my less lovable side. With it gone, I’d never have a reason to doubt Bryce’s affection because I’d be so genuinely good and perfect inside and out that every piece of me could finally be loved fully.
The temptation of the potion called to me, promising that for once, everything could be easy.
“No,” Bryce said quietly.
