27. CHAPTER 27 #2
“Not my fault this time,” Zane shot back, as the barkeeper pushed us out the door.
The barkeep’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade. “OUT! All of you!”
And just like that, we were slipping into the darkness, the sounds of the tavern closing behind us.
The sun had set, leaving the world bathed in a silver-blue glow.
The road ahead was barely more than a pale ribbon under the moonlight, with grass on either side whispering in the night breeze.
The group grew quieter now. Lili and Thora walked ahead with Sadie, their voices low and tired from laughter and the lingering heat of the tavern scuffle.
Eli and Oliver lagged behind a bit, speaking in murmurs that didn’t carry.
Zane kept close, his stride falling in step with mine. Our shoulders brushed now and then, a steady reminder he stayed there. The air between us shifted—still charged, but softer than the tavern heat. Quieter. Heavier.
“You didn’t have to step in so fast,” I said at last, my voice cutting through the silence.
“Yes, I did.” His reply came low, certain. “I’ll always step in.”
Something in my chest tightened, both infuriating and impossible to ignore. “I’m not helpless, you know.”
He glanced at me, the corner of his mouth twitching. “I know. But he didn’t.”
We continued walking in silence, the steady sound of boots on dirt echoing beneath us. In the distance, a night bird called, and the faint smell of woodsmoke drifted through the air.
“You’ve got a look,” he said after a moment.
I tilted my head toward him. “What look?”
“The one you get when you’re thinking about things you won’t say out loud.”
I gave a half smile, keeping my eyes on the path. “Maybe I like the quiet. ”
His hand brushed mine—casual, seeming accidental, yet he didn’t immediately pull away. I didn't either. When the towering college walls came into view, most of the group had settled into a relaxed, exhausted silence.
Lili and Thora were the first to head toward their chambers, with Sadie trailing behind them and giving a lazy wave. Eli and Oliver lingered long enough to chat briefly with Zane before they headed to the Drusearon wing.
That left only the two of us standing outside the gates in the flight field, the cool night air against my flushed cheeks. Curfew was near—too close for anything reckless—but neither of us moved right away.
“You should get inside,” I said, tilting my head toward his side of the building.
“I will,” he said, but his eyes never left mine. The firelight reflected in them, warm and steadfast. “I just… didn’t want the night to end yet.”
Something twisted low in my stomach, equal parts longing and warning. “We’ll both get caught if we stay out here.”
“Then come with me,” he murmured, stepping close enough for me to feel the heat of him. His voice was quiet, meant only for me. “No one’s watching right now.”
I should’ve walked away. Instead, I found myself leaning in slightly, pulled by the gravity he always seemed to carry. He brushed his knuckles along my jaw, slow and deliberate. “One more minute,” he said, like a promise and a dare.
And in the quiet beyond the torches, with the hum of the base settling for the night, I let that moment stretch until it was almost too much.
“You’re stalling,” I said, folding my arms.
He smiled in that maddeningly calm way. “Maybe I don’t feel like saying goodnight yet.”
“Curfew is in two minutes.”
“Then we’d better take the fast way.” His eyes glinted, and before I could ask, the brush of his mind against mine sent a clear image—his hand on my arm, the air folding around us .
“You’re not serious—”
Too late. The world shimmered, and the crisp night air quickly shifted to the warm stillness of my room in the span of a heartbeat. The sudden quiet made it feel almost as if we had stolen it.
“One day you’re gonna get caught…”
“Doubt it… what can they actually do about it? Most of the professors know who I really am.”
Before I could come up with an argument, he took my hand and guided me toward the bed, sitting down and gently pulling me beside him. “I’m not here for anything else tonight,” he murmured, the seriousness in his voice making my chest ache. “Just want to hold you.”
Something in me melted at that—no teasing, no games—simply truth in his voice. I shifted until my body curled against him, his arm sliding around my waist, the steady thump of his heartbeat under my cheek.
“You make it very hard to forget you’re here,” I whispered.
“That’s the idea,” he said, and I felt the faintest smile against my hair.
Somewhere between one heartbeat and the next, sleep gave way to awareness.
The room was dim, with only the faintest hint of pre-dawn light spilling across the floorboards. My head was still on Zane’s chest, his breathing deep and steady, one arm wrapped around me as if he had no intention of letting go.
For a moment, I didn’t move. I simply listened to the steady rhythm of his heart, the soft rustle of the wind against the window.
I wanted to stay right there, in that warmth, until the world forgot we existed.
But a distant bell tolled once, low and hollow, reminding me that soon the college would be waking up.
“Zane,” I whispered, brushing my fingers lightly against his side. “You need to go.”
His arm tightened briefly, as if he could will me into silence. “Five more minutes,” he murmured, voice rough with sleep.
“You said that five minutes ago,” I said, but the smile tugging at my lips probably ruined any sternness I was going for .
He cracked one eye open, gaze locking on mine. “Then I lied.”
Still, he moved—reluctantly—sitting up and running a hand through his hair. The air between us felt charged, full of things neither of us had the nerve to say out loud.
At the door, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder. “Tonight?” he asked.
I swallowed, nodding once. “Tonight.”
He disappeared, the faint shimmer of his rove leaving the room colder and quieter. I counted the hours until curfew.