The throat tattoo worked exactly like talking—limited range, a few feet, usually line of sight—which meant anyone close by sporting the same tech could overhear. Oz was a little close for comfort, but I decided I didn’t care that much if he did overhear.
“I don’t know.” But maybe I did, I thought, my mind flicking back over where his dot placed him earlier today. “So, Oz, how was Pearl Harbor?”
The question sounded innocent enough to my ears, but his sharp gaze snapped to mine. It felt as though he could see right through my skull, knew that I’d seen his dot hovering elsewhere. I tried a smile, which only seemed to irritate him further, pulling his full lips into a frown.
“Loud and bloody. As expected.”
He was lying. The cut of his eyes toward the bathroom, the way he licked his lips. His anxiety rose even higher and diffused into the air, urging my own into a climb. The bio stats didn’t lie, even if Oz did, and now I was sure what I’d seen in the Archives hadn’t been a glitch. Oz had been in Asia today, watching the Mongol invasions when he wasn’t supposed to be.
The question of why intrigued me more than a little. And if the stats hadn’t been wrong about where he’d been, they also weren’t wrong about him being alone.
Which meant I wasn’t the only apprentice with an unauthorized cuff.
The sound of running water abated a moment before the uncomfortable silence actually killed me. I wondered if he and Sarah talked when they were alone. Maybe they were too busy making out, although I had a hard time picturing Oz relaxing his lips enough to kiss anyone.
Sarah’s lilting singing voice crawled underneath the closed door and helped eased the tension in the room before she banged loose from the bathroom, tugging the towel tighter around her chest when she spotted Oz. “Oh. I didn’t realize how late I was.”
A wrinkle appeared between Oz’s eyebrows. “It’s okay.”
Sarah tossed a knowing look toward us girls, grabbing her suit off the bed and retreating back into the bathroom. “I’ll be five minutes,” she told Oz, then shut the door.
“Where are you two headed?” Analeigh asked, a little too perky, even for her.
Oz pulled off his glasses, rubbing imaginary spots from the lenses with the hem of his shirt. Without them, his gray eyes were huge and framed with impossibly thick, black lashes. “Studying.”
“For what?” He obviously wanted to sit in silence, but knowing that only made me push harder. I’d grown up with an older brother. Surly boy did nothing but bring out the annoying little sister in me. “Are you helping Sarah with something?”
“No. She’s helping me with a reflection analytic. For my specialty application next year.”
His application next year. Good gravy boats. I hadn’t even thought about it. If anyone else used that excuse it would have sounded like they were just trying to get their girlfriend alone for a couple of hours, especially since Sarah didn’t excel at reflection. But Oz probably was working on next year’s applications, which would be reviewed before we were certified as full Historians and used to determine our permanent field of observation.
Maybe Sarah wanted the excuse to spend time alone with him.
“You’re that sure you don’t want to travel anymore after we’re certified?” Analeigh asked, unable to contain her curiosity even though being nosy went against her upbringing. Her parents were both from Persepolis; she’d been raised a traditional Muslim, and even though she didn’t practice she couldn’t shake the ingrained reticence and respect. Like the rest of Genesis, the Academies allowed no subscription to nationality or faith or even planetary loyalty. Clinging to those kinds of identities fractured cultures, drew lines in the sand, caused dissension and hate. We were humans first, our callings second. Nothing more.
After seven years of observing altercations, murder, and persecutions, stripping humanity of their useless and arbitrary labels seemed to be one of the smarter decisions the Originals had made upon our departure from Earth Before.
“I’m sure. But you know they don’t approve many of us for permanent reflection, so I want to make sure all of my essays are outstanding. My goal is to get something added to the Hope Chest before certifications.”
That made more sense, even if the goal was so lofty it never would have entered my mind. Apprentices never initiated the process to finalize a body of reflections. It would be a coup, and he would probably get approved for whatever he wanted.
Light swirled in his stormy eyes, lit by excitement and passion—two things I didn’t often associate with Oz Truman. I’d never heard him say so many words at once before, ever.
Sarah swept in from the toilet, bringing the fresh scent of perfume and shampoo along with her. The standard black suit clung to her lithe frame, hugging her hips and generous chest. Her chin-length hair shone, appearing brighter in the glow from the bathroom.
Oz gave her an appreciative smile before cocking his head toward the door. “Ready?”
She smiled up at him and the affection in her gaze was impossible to miss. A similar emotion flickered in his smoky eyes and he smiled for real, bending slightly to press a quick kiss to her lips, disproving my previous assumption.
“See you gals at lights out!” Sarah tossed over her shoulder as she hauled Oz from the room.
The sight of their clasped hands dragged a sigh from my chest. I might not have wanted Oz, but that electricity between them, the excitement and ease born from the simple fact that they knew they were perfect together … that I couldn’t help but want.
I’d never have what Sarah and Oz did. Never be able to touch or talk with my True.
But I did have Jonah’s abandoned cuff. The more I thought about it, the more it didn’t seem like it would be so bad, my using it just this once. It was a good reason. A once-in-a-lifetime reason. And once I saw him, my curiosity would be sated. Life could go back to normal.
And besides, you’re only in trouble if you get caught.
Chapter Six