His eyes narrow. “He approached you?” A muscle ticks along Tristan’s jaw. “What did he say?”
“He wants to meet with you. Something about wanting to prove he’s not a threat.”
He arches a brow. “He and Allison are still seeing each other.” It’s not a question.
“My loyalty lies with my best friend, Tristan. I understand why the rule is in place, but shouldn’t you be willing to at least hear him out? Listen to what he has to say. Not all of the light fae have to be enemies.” I shrug. “But hey, that’s just one human’s opinion.”
Tristan chuckles. “You say that like your opinion doesn’t mean anything. It does.”
I nod. “Okay, then while were on the relative topic, I think you need to put on your big boy pants—you have an unfairly huge closet full of them—sit down with their leader and call for a freaking ceasefire. Why do fae have to keep dying?”
“While your idea is decent in theory, it’s more complicated than that.”
“From my experience, which some would say is minimal, there’s nothing about the fae world that isn’t. Stop using that as an excuse. You have a solution right in front of you, but you won’t consider it because it’s not complicated enough.”
“You came here to talk to me about how I should lead my people? You want to talk fae politics? I’ve been the leader long enough to know what I’m doing.”
“What’s your point? This war is proof that you don’t have all of the answers.”
“I’m handling it, Aurora,” he says in a deep, tight voice—one that isn’t friendly and one I don’t hear often.
“Fine,” I grumble, shrugging.
His features smooth. “It’s interesting that you seem to care so much.”
“No, it’s not.” I’m not in the mood for where this conversation is going.
He chuckles again. “Okay, sweetheart.” His tone is borderline mocking.
I scowl. “Don’t do that.”
He rises from his chair and walks around the desk, closing the space between us. He stops a mere foot away, so close I could lean in and feel his breath on my face. “It seems we both have things we don’t want to talk about.”
“I . . .” Blood rushes to my cheeks. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
He reaches forward and twirls a strand of my hair between his fingers. “You’d rather not talk, then?” he murmurs.
My heart lurches in my chest. This scenario could go a few different ways. I know which way my body wants it to go, but my mind is screaming at me to run away.
“I know we got off to a bad start, Rory, but I think you can agree things have changed since then,” he says in a hushed tone before dropping his hand back to his side.
I open my mouth to—what? Dispute his claim? He’s right. I just don’t want to admit it.
He wets his lips and backs away a few steps. “Tell me you don’t want me. Say it, and I won’t bring it up again.” His eyes flick back and forth across my face as he waits for my response. He’s giving me an out. All I have to do is say I don’t want him.
I can’t do it. I can’t make the words form on my lips.
“This is ridiculous,” I mutter instead.
“I’m not asking for much,” he says.
“You know what you’re doing. I’m not going to do this with you. We work together. I have to see you at least twice a week on top of the times you pop up out of nowhere, including when I’m asleep—”
“That happened one time,” he cuts in.
I run my fingers through my hair. “It’s late, and I’m exhausted. I should go home.”
“If only you were in a hotel full of beds,” he says with a wry grin.
I sigh. “You are insufferable.”
“Thank you,” he replies.
I turn my back on him and walk to the door, opening it quickly. I need to get out of here and clear my head.
“When you’re ready to admit what you want,” he calls after me in that deep voice I can feel all over, “you know where I am.”
I pause for half a second at the door, and then I hurry out of the room, grabbing my things before leaving the building.
I stay in bed for over an hour after I wake up. It’s Saturday; I have no assignments due right away—no responsibilities I need to rush out of bed for. I pull my computer onto my lap and answer emails from classmates about group assignments and scroll through my social media feeds. When I’ve wasted as much time in bed as I can stand, I throw the sheets off and shuffle into the bathroom to take a shower. I shampoo my hair, humming a new song I’ve been working on. By the time I rinse out the conditioner, I’m singing the lyrics and enjoying the sound echoing around the tiny bathroom.
I towel dry my hair and wrap another around my body, my fingers and toes pruned and my skin radiating heat. Still humming, I open the bathroom door to grab some clothes from my closet.
I stop dead when I find Tristan and Allison standing in our room.
“Hey.” She presses her lips together as if she’s trying not to smile. “Nice singing.”
Tristan chuckles.
I stand there, staring at them both. Aware of my lack of clothing, I grip the towel tighter around me and look between them. “Do I even want to know?” I ask.
Tristan looks like he’s about to pounce on me. The dark, intense focus in his eyes makes my heart pound and the heat between my thighs pulse.
“Tristan told me that Evan came here and talked to you.”
I force my eyes to shift over to Allison. “Yeah.”
“Sorry I wasn’t here.” She keeps her eyes on me, as if she’s too scared to look at Tristan now that we’re talking about Evan. “Look, I know no one trusts him, but I do.”
Tristan chuckles again, but his jaw is hard.
“Like you’ve never wanted something you shouldn’t? Something your people don’t agree with?” Allison’s cheeks flush quickly, and her eyes widen, knowing she said something she shouldn’t have.
Tristan’s eyes shift to me, and I shake my head.
Knowing she’s made a mistake, Allison grabs her bag off the end of her bed and hurries out of our room, leaving me standing before Tristan in nothing but a towel.
Tristan sits on the end of my bed and waits for me to come back out of the bathroom, this time with clothes on. I comb my fingers through my hair while he sits there, watching me without a word. I’m not sure why he’s here, but it’s clear that he has no plans to leave yet.
I walk around the small room in quick, unmeasured strides, tidying things here and there.
“You’re pacing,” Tristan comments in a calm voice.
I ignore him, busying myself in case that might keep me from having to talk to the fae leader still sitting on my bed. I guess I should be grateful he let Allison leave, especially after she snapped at him, clearly defying his position—and fae law.
Tristan catches my wrist as I pass by him and holds it in a gentle grip, stopping me from whizzing around. “Aurora, come sit for a minute, please. You’re making me dizzy.”