Page 44 of The Dazzling Heights
“You were trying to be something that wasn’t you. But this is!”
“How? This isn’t even edited!”
She thought Xiayne might take offense at her tone, but he just leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head, as carelessly as if he had all the time in the world. “So let’s fix that.”
“Right now?” Surely she hadn’t heard him correctly.
“Did you have other plans?”
Something in his tone, in the challenging set of his shoulders, broke through Rylin’s irritation. “Didn’t you?”
“Oh, I did, but this will be more fun,” Xiayne said easily, and Rylin couldn’t help but smile.
Three hours later, the holo glimmered around them in glowing tatters. Snatches of different images had been spliced apart and pulled into various groupings, overlapping in the air like a chorus of ghosts. “Thank you for spending so long with me. I didn’t realize how late it is,” Rylin said, feeling a little guilty that she’d taken so much of Xiayne’s evening.
“You’d be surprised how quickly time disappears in here. Especially since there are no windows, no natural light.” He paused at the doorway to let the edit bay’s lights flicker out. Rylin hurried to follow—and tripped forward, barely catching herself from sprawling headfirst in the empty hallway.
“Whoa, you okay?” Xiayne put out a hand to steady her. “Where are you headed? Let me walk you out; it’s so late.”
Rylin blinked, a million voices shouting in her head at once. She felt a pang of embarrassment at her clumsiness, mingled with a surprised, not-unpleasant warmth. Xiayne hadn’t let go of her elbow, his hand steady on her bare skin although she was no longer in danger of falling.
Someone turned the corner at the end of the hall. Of course, Rylin thought wildly, it just had to be Cord.
Rylin saw the entire scene on his face as he walked forward: Rylin and a young, attractive teacher, alone, late in the evening, walking out of the dark edit bay together; the teacher’s hand on her arm in an unmistakably intimate gesture. She saw Cord weighing it all, adding it up, and she knew he would be drawing conclusions about what was going on.
She told herself she didn’t care, but as they grew closer in the empty hallway, her body strummed with a sharp and familiar longing. She kept her head high, unblinking, determined not to reveal to Cord how much it was costing her.
And then it was over: he had walked past, and the moment was gone.
WATT
THE NEXT WEEKEND,Watt took a steadying breath as he marched up to Leda’s front door, a bouquet of flowers clutched firmly in his hand. He was wearing the tux that he’d bought for the party with Avery—just a few months earlier, though it felt like a lifetime ago.
He waited for Leda to buzz him in, glancing curiously up the street, which was lined with vertical residences inspired by old Upper East Side town houses. A young girl skipped down the sidewalk, pulling her golden Lab puppy on a wireless proxi-leash.
Any last words of wisdom?he asked Nadia, surprised at how nervous he felt, given that he didn’t even like Leda. Then again, he’d never really been one for going on dates.
Just be your usual charming self.
We both know my usual self is far from charming, he replied as the door flung open before him.
Leda’s hair fell past her shoulders in elaborate curls, and she wore a voluminous purple gown; the sort of deep purple that royalty used to wear, back when they had official portraits painted on two-dimensional squares of canvas. Come to think of it, she looked like one of those portraits come to life, with her enormous diamond earrings and cool, impatient expression. The only thing missing was a tiara. She’d dressed to look not beautiful, Watt realized, but intimidating. He refused to fall for it.
“Watt? I messaged you to meet me at the party.”
He bit back a sarcastic reply. “I wanted to pick you up,” he said, with as genuine a smile as he could manage.
The flowers, Watt!Nadia prodded.
“Oh, um, these are for you,” he added, awkwardly thrusting out his arm to hand Leda the bouquet.
“Whatever. Let’s just go.” She tossed the flowers on an entry hall table, where they would no doubt be scooped up and deposited in a vase somewhere, and pulled Watt forcefully forward.
Conversation has been known to ease social awkwardness, Nadia reminded him as they settled stiffly into the hover’s interior. Watt would have laughed if this weren’t already such a disaster.
“So, who’s throwing this Hudson Conservancy party anyway?” he attempted.
Leda shot him an irritated glance. “The Hudson River Conservancy,” she said curtly.
