Page 75 of The Silent War
“Maybe,” she said, honest.
“Afraid of lightning?” Luca asked.
She laughed. You two would love that. A dramatic storm to compliment your dramatic faces.”
“Weather obeys us,” Luca said.
“It absolutely does not. I’m convinced you printed this sky.” She tipped her head back, eyes closing for a second. “Feels fake. Perfect in a way that makes me suspicious.”
“You trust cities more,” I said.
“I trust walls,” she said. “And a door that locks.”
“You’ve got both,” Luca said quietly. “When you want them.”
Her eyes opened. She looked at him like she heard the whole sentence he didn’t say. She always did.
A cousin shouted our surname from across the deck like it was an auction lot and he was tired of losing. I ignored it. Luca didn’t even look. Emilia’s face barely flinched at the sound. Progress. A few months ago, she would have apologized just for being near the blast radius of our name.
“Dance with me,” she said suddenly, eyes on me, then Luca, then the empty space between us where a song would go if one existed. There wasn’t a dance floor. There wasn’t music. Just waves and the buzz of too many people pretending to be young.
“No music,” I said.
“There’s always music,” she said, and raised her hand like a dare.
I took it.Because I’m a sucker for her.
Her palm was cool. Her fingers slid into mine like starting a car. Luca stepped in behind her instinctively, an orbit locking—one beat to settle, then his hand hovered just off the small of her back, not touching, guiding anyway. She turned toward me, free hand lifting to my shoulder, and we moved the smallest amount a body can move and still call it dance.
“I’m terrible,” she whispered.
“You’re perfect,” I said.
“Liar.”
“Never to you.”
She swallowed—that I felt under my fingers more than I saw. The wind tried to lift the hem of her dress and I wanted to punch the air for thinking it could do what I wasn’t allowed.
“What are you thinking?” she asked me.
“That I hate sharing the view.”
She flushed. Not embarrassed. She tipped her head, eyes suddenly softer. “Bastion.”
“Mm.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Have to what.”
“Carry the whole ocean by yourself while pretending you’re enjoying the party.”
“My arms are big.”
“Your arms are tired,” she said.
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t without giving her too much.
