Page 16 of Enchantment of Silver and Sea
“So this was recent, then?”
I knew as soon as the words came out that I had pushed too far. His eyes searched mine, and I suddenly became aware of how close we were standing to one other.
“Yeah,” he said finally. “It was relatively recent.”
An uncomfortable silence followed, in which all we could do was stare at one another.
Zander’s hair, whileEnforcer-short, accentuated his strong jaw and the toned muscles of his neck. And his eyes…well, they may not have been an indicator that he was some terrifying Outside creature. But for a human, they were an interesting shade. Thisclose, I could see the way that caramel and gold feathered out and around his irises, blending into one another.
He broke the silence first. “Mai –”
“Zander!” A male’s voice echoed through the high-ceilinged room.
We turned to see several Enforcers clustered near the back of the staircase, grinning with amusement.
“Come on,” one of them goaded. “The rain looks like it’s letting up, and we’re going to make a run for it.”
Zander’s eyes narrowed, but he was smiling. “Well, guess I’ve got to go.” He held out the umbrellas in a final offer.
“We brought umbrellas. But thanks anyway.” I hadn’t realized until I opened my mouth to speak that I had been holding my breath.
He waved and headed off in the direction of his fellow Enforcers.
If I were Brielle, I would’ve taken the opportunity to watch him walk away. Instead, I found my attention drifting back to the window, watching the paths of the raindrops as they raced one another down the glass.
“Well, I tried.”
Brielle’s voice was so close that I jumped. “Where were you?” I demanded.
“Close enough to see you two gazing into each other’s eyes!” she exclaimed, and I clamped a hand over her mouth.
I twisted around and was relieved to find that Zander was already out of earshot, headed toward the main entrance and out into the city. When I pulled my hand back, Brielle continuedtalking as if nothing had happened. “He was about to ask you out, you know.”
“No, I don’t ‘know.’ He could’ve been about to say anything.” I’m not sure why I bothered disagreeing with her. As usual, she was probably right.
“One of these days, Maila,” she said in a sing-song voice, wagging her finger at me. She reached in her bag to pull out her umbrella, and I did the same. “You two lovebirds are finally going to get together, and I’m going to take all the credit.”
I rolled my eyes and followed her out the door.
She was right, wasn’t she? Zander was attracted to me, and I could acknowledge that he was handsome. Considering how much time I had spent alone over the years, I should be jumping at the opportunity for companionship. Not only that, but at twenty years old, the extent of my romantic experience was a fumbling first time with a guy from the Agricultural Preservation department and a brief relationship with a colleague of Brielle’s in Culinary Preservation that was equally anticlimactic.
Did reminiscing on those experiences feed my late-night fantasies? No.
But were my experiences pretty standard considering our limited options? Yes.
The fact that I would even think of our choice of partners in Cyllene as being “limited” was a glaring sign of Irene’s influence. I should have considered myself fortunate to have someone I found even the slightest bit attractive interested in me.
Rather than dreaming of an all-consuming romance like the stories from Irene’s books, I needed to focus on reality. Onwhat—and who—was right in front of me, presenting a perfectly attainable, and probably perfectly pleasant, opportunity for companionship.
As I braced my umbrella against the rain, feeling the mist against my cheek, I wondered why I still couldn’t quite convince myself of that.
That evening, Brielle invited me over for dinner at her apartment.
The meal was incredible, as always. Chicken stuffed with ham and goat cheese, which Brielle claimed was the perfect hearty entree for a rainy day. Roasted broccoli, which only Brielle could prepare in such a way that it rivaled the main course. And, keeping with the theme of warmth and comfort, fresh oatmeal cookies for dessert. The cookies were so rich that I could only eat two before I had to admit defeat.
As I walked down the stairs and back to my place, I marveled again at how fortunate I was to have a friend who had a fully functioning kitchen in her apartment. It wasn’t exactly standard, even for someone who worked in Culinary Preservation. But considering how I gorged myself at her table on a regular basis, I wasn’t about to question it.
I unlocked my door, stepped inside, and relocked the door behind me. When I turned back around, I noticed immediately an unfamiliar shape in the darkness.
