Chapter 14
Is There Aphrodisiac in This Soju or Do You Want to Kiss Me?
TIA
‘All right, Teacup.’ Niko plants their hands on my lab table bright and early Monday morning, to my dismay.
‘Orders just came in today. We’re moving most of the moonstones from the government’s secure departments to Ferrix’s warehouses, since Ferrix is spearheading the lunar energy plant development in Singapore.
It’s a lot of moonstones and we’ll be very exposed if Foxes or Nagas catch on, so we’ll be moving them at night, and we’ll have to be available every night for as long as it takes.
I know this is a lot, but if it becomes too overwhelming let me know and we can try to make an alternative arrangement, okay? ’
This is going to be a long month. ‘Yeah, sure.’
Patrol starts the next day. Over the week, the routine grinds down on my bones, over and over again. Out at one a.m., back by five a.m. No rest, no sleep.
Every day Niko and Kiran report the government’s flagged areas for possible Fox and Naga activity as I slump into my chair, wishing I could fuse into the ground.
I wake up on Thursday with blood between my legs and a breakout over my forehead, my guts twisted and tangled into each other, and that seals it – I am officially done. I am a bleeding organ first, a hormonal mess second and a teenage girl third.
Painkillers ease the cramps but not the discomfort, and I shuffle into the lab with my hair sweat-damp, back aching and legs weak.
Harper bursts in ten minutes later, throwing a careless salute to Niko. Whatever plagued her during the presentation has clearly left, and she’s right back to normal. But when her eyes fall on me she freezes.
‘Hey . . . uh . . .’ She frowns. ‘You okay?’
What does Harper see? My oily hair? The way I’ve hidden it in a bun instead of letting it fall straight over my shoulders like usual?
I push my tortoiseshell frames up, stripped vulnerable in Harper’s gaze.
‘I’ve been on three hours of sleep for the past week and now I’m on my period. Please leave me alone.’
It’s an hour before the end of lab when a hand slams on the notebook of equations I’ve been trying to work out.
I whip a glare up at Harper. ‘What do you want?’
Harper raises her hands in surrender. ‘Relax. Just reminding you that we have that briefing with Niko and Kiran tonight, and I need your part in the presentation for next week.’
The agitation in my chest deflates, albeit only a little. I should probably be nicer to Harper, given that she’s rarely the patient one of the two of us. I should be rewarding this behaviour. ‘Right. Thanks. See you tonight.’
Harper pauses before leaving, and I feel her gaze as she goes.
There’s another reason why it’s been harder to treat Harper as per usual – it’s difficult to even look at her without imagining her touch on my skin, our lips skimming, and heat flashes up my neck every time.
Just the briefing. Then it’ll be the weekend, and I can avoid Harper until I forget this. Just one more briefing.
HARPER
So this briefing died the second it began two hours ago.
The pleather seat melts into my sweatpants, a half-consumed Red Bull sits on the table in front of me, my leg jittering.
My fingers toy with the rubber band I’ve snatched from the stationery tray, and as I stretch it between my fingers it rolls off my thumb and hits Kiran’s butt.
I almost apologize, but I’ve been fidgety for days now. Maria’s text from the other night keeps flashing in my mind’s eye.
Meeting next week about T’s assassination.
Both the text itself and the circumstances in which I’d received the text – that is to say, if I hadn’t received the text, me and Tia might’ve . . .
Standing at the front of the meeting room, the projection of the briefing slides tinting his face blue, Kiran releases a long-suffering sigh and cuts my thoughts short. ‘If you’d just pull yourself together for five more minutes, I promise we’re almost done.’
Manning the slides beside him, Niko snickers.
Across the table, Tia doesn’t budge, her face blank. Ever since the last presentation . . . no, ever since the night of the last presentation, there’s been something hanging between us.
Niko hasn’t missed it either. ‘Teacup, want to summarize the briefing for the class? I know you’re good at that.’
‘The class’ is just us four, but my eyelids might have drooped more than once during the briefing, so a crash course really wouldn’t hurt.
Tia’s gaze refocuses, and she straightens. ‘The conference will be tomorrow, and we’re there to update the public on the moonstones. We show up at six p.m., and Harper and I have to make sure we’re thoroughly photographed.’
Kiran nods quickly. ‘We’re not VIPs at this event, so don’t worry about leaving halfway through if you’re tired.
You were both chosen because you were the most popular interns in the last media round you did with the universities.
Just remember they’ll also be filming your make-up and event prep the morning of the conference. Be nice to each other then, okay?’
I raise a hand. ‘On a scale of queer subtext to nationwide scandal, how much chemistry must we pretend to have?’
Tia sighs and aims a palm at me. Before I can react, a weak blast of lunar energy bursts from her hand, a baby lightning bolt over my chest.
It doesn’t hurt. I pretend to collapse anyway. ‘I can’t believe you’ve done this,’ I wheeze.
The skit earns me a small chuckle from Tia, which means I’ve done my job.
Still, it hurts to watch the happiness slide off her face, leaving it empty and distant. Agitation broils in my chest, itching for a way to cut the tension between us.
Maybe that’s why I stay back after the briefing ends. As Niko and Kiran file out, Tia slumps back onto the table and buries her head in her arms.
Ignoring Niko’s questioning gaze, I round the table and pull myself up to her.
This is a bad idea, my brain says, because it’s smart.
Screw off, my heart snaps back, because it’s feeling adventurous.
But when I open my mouth, it’s Harper who says, ‘Want to go for a drink?’, inciting an internal series of events that look vaguely like the following:
Brain: Can you not? You know you cannot drink.
Heart: Can you let her have fun?
Amidst my fervent battle between head and heart, Tia straightens from her slump and drags her weary gaze up to stare me dead in the eye. ‘Is this a prank? I’ve never seen you drink in my life.’
‘Vow-serious, bunny.’ I brace my palm on the table and lean over her, batting my emotional conflict away so I can shoot her a teasing smirk. ‘Whoever passes out first pays for the alc.’
In the years we’ve known each other, only one thing has remained steadfastly, undyingly constant between us: competition.
When I lost my parents, the only thing I’d focused on in school was beating Tia.
And the year Tia joined Niko and Kiran to become a Sentinel (ran away from home, I remind myself), she spent hours in the library studying for the end-of-year exams.
We’d topped the cohort in both respective years.
It works; a small smile quirks Tia’s lips. ‘I’ll have you know I’ve been taught to drink in abundance while holding a very respectable composure.’
That’s how we end up on the roof of Lain Co. at midnight, six soju and one vodka bottle between us, our legs dangling over the building’s edge as we split the alcohol fifty-fifty.
With night fallen over the city, the skyline looks like a blanket of the galaxy’s stars has scattered across the skyscraper horizon.
Night used to be brighter when I was younger, but then energy became a scarcity, and the city grew darker.
It’s late enough that the streets are mostly void, and I idly trace the grey veins of roads weaving in and out of Singapore’s dense foliage.
The river splits the country and stretches like onyx into the distance, lit by the residual light of shuttered riverside restaurants and bridges.
I pop a soju bottle open against the edge of the building with a practised flick. ‘Sentinel work been stressing you out?’
Without looking at me, Tia shrugs. ‘As much as usual.’
‘Right.’ I clear my throat. ‘So you’ve been weird with me for other reasons, then.’ What if Tia saw the text that night? My fingers grow slippery with sweat over the soju bottle.
I put the bottle down and try to will my thoughts away.
Tia slouches forward, fingers pressed into the frilled edges of her soju bottle cap. ‘Who’s Maria?’ The question leaves her in a quiet exhalation.
Cold shoots down my spine, and I take my first gulp of soju with a wince in a bid to pass it off. She saw the text. I want desperately to defend myself, but I make do with a forced laugh. ‘Just a friend. What’s that got to do with anything?’
‘I . . . forget it. Whatever.’ A deep exhale, then Tia leans back on one hand and swills from her bottle with the other. She finishes her gulp with an even sharper inhale, wiping her mouth against the back of her palm.
Something nags in the foggy recesses of my brain. ‘Um, no. Why’ve you been so strange?’
Tia’s gaze cuts low into the tarmac. ‘Have you ever liked anyone?’
Something twists in my chest, ugly and sharp and cruel. ‘Why do you ask?’
She shrugs. Keeps her head turned away. ‘Why do you think?’
A lightning urge to grab Tia by the shoulders and just ask her what she’s saying seizes me as my mind drowns under a foreign, nebulous hurt. Wasn’t it just last week that Tia told Raven we’re more than friends? I want to bring it up but I obviously can’t, and, God, I hate secret identities.
Teeth gritted, I manage a dismissive hum. ‘Not recently. You?’
Tia stares at me. There’s something behind the tilt of her brows, the intensity of her gaze and the way the base of her throat hollows like she’s just swallowed . . . but it all falls away from me, an ocean slipping through my fingers.
What are you thinking?
Her gaze darts around my face and searches for . . . what?