Chapter 14 #2
I’m about to snap when Tia laughs – empty, mirthless. ‘I don’t know – it’s strange. Probably better if I don’t go into it.’
The undercurrent of her tone tugs my ankles to the void, tangling around my feet like the wind. Better for who?
There’s no time to probe, though, because Tia faces the universe with a soju and a sniffle. Her gaze drops down to the bottle nestled between her legs. Her nail taps its rim.
Fine. Even if Tia’s comment itches the back of my mind, begging to be replayed so I can stuff all the meaning I want between her gentle consonants, I shake my head free of the thought.
Hope makes anyone a fool, and I’m not about to be that kind of stupid. ‘Do I know him, at least?’ My mind skips back to something Tia said the other night, amidst my druggy haze. ‘Or her.’
Tia’s gaze stays pinned to her thighs, her fingers fiddling with the rim of her bottle. ‘I think I’m a lesbian, actually.’
Oh.
I take a swig from my bottle. The vodka hits deep in my gut, liquid fire scorching from within, and I suck in a breath. ‘Congratulations, bunny. Thank you for telling me. Question still stands, though.’
Tia shrugs, upends her bottle, and chokes, alcohol dribbling down her chin. She tips the vodka into her half-drunk soju, her eyes squinting in concentration.
‘Okay, what do you think you’re making? Poison?’ I lunge for it, but Tia dodges.
‘Hands off my stash, heathen.’ She takes a large gulp from the deadly concoction, scrunching her face as she swallows. Wind whips her hair around her neck, over her face, rippling her wrinkled blouse.
It whisks the spilled alcohol off my skin with a chill.
Do not den with Tia. It’s Fox instinct, but my hands already begin to reach for her, and I have to grab a bottle to still them.
I will not move Tia’s hair off her face for her.
I will not grab Tia and pull her close to keep us warm.
I will not imagine Tia’s skin on mine, the comfortable weight of her body against me.
‘Thanks for bringing me out here.’ The night wind steals Tia’s whisper at its emergence, but I catch it anyway.
I lean back on my hands, resting my head on my shoulder. Reality swims with the ghost of the vodka that’s come back to haunt me. ‘Yeah, okay, just admit that you love spending time with me.’
There’s something endearing about the way Tia rolls her eyes and betrays herself with a grin, her shoulders slumped as she kicks her heels against the side of the building. Something about the alcohol melts her down from being a cold, unassailable figure to just a girl – warm, loving, messy.
‘I can’t be your rebound crush?’ I finally allow myself to jab, ignoring the way my palms turn itchy with sweat. ‘I’m sure I could save you from heartbreak.’
Tia finishes the bottle she’s holding, bracing her hand against the floor as she leans towards me. Our eyes lock. Her face is unreadable.
My stomach flips. I straighten almost unconsciously. ‘What?’ My voice comes out too loud and, God, I’m already drunk, aren’t I?
Tia shifts away, the sharp tang of alcohol ripe on her breath. ‘You’re really annoying.’
I stare for a second as my brain slurs to catch up. ‘I am never annoying.’
Tia throws her head back with a laugh. The sound escapes into the night air and echoes high, like even the clouds are trying to drink in a little of her happiness.
‘No, I hate you. You’re annoying when you make me cook your breakfast, and when you use the 3D printer to make cut-outs of scary people—’
‘What do you have against Stray Kids?’
‘You put them in dark rooms to scare me!’ Tia protests.
Okay, fair. I can’t stop the grin across my face. ‘Then who else am I meant to gloriously recreate in our printer?’
Light from the streetlights below accentuates the curve of Tia’s neck and the cut of her jaw, twinkling in her eyes.
As Tia shifts, I realize the gentle glow over her skin isn’t from the street, but it’s Tia herself.
I wonder if she even knows she’s doing it.
If she knows how radiantly she glows against the dark.
Just like the moon.
Tia is mid-sentence when I say, ‘God, you’re bright.’
Whatever statement she was making grinds to a halt. Realization comes to her with the speed of a man in stupor. ‘Sorry?’
I swallow. Tia is a marvel, and pretending otherwise is a challenge for which Drunk Harper would need at least a cold shower and a good puke.
But my eyes catch on a rippling of colour behind Tia. Tingles run up my arms as they do whenever I use my magic. Looks like the alcohol has finally abducted my control over my powers.
‘W-what else?’ I curse myself for stuttering as I try to tamp my spinning emotions. The stronger they are, the deeper the colours behind Tia get. ‘What else about me annoys you?’
Tia puts down her bottle. The wind whistles between us.
‘Everything,’ she says finally. ‘The fact that you had the audacity to almost kiss me.’
I frown. That night feels aeons ago. ‘I did say you could stop me. I even ended up having to stop you.’
‘I know.’ Tia shoots me a rueful smile. ‘And what do you think that says about us?’
Us.
I know I’m staring. There are galaxies in Tia’s eyes, universes suspended in her gaze, a thousand baby suns in the way she shines. When I’m all alcohol-loosed and soul-stripped, it’s so hard to stop from leaning in and—
The colours behind Tia intensify. Oh shit. I can’t calm myself down enough to stop it.
Tia raises an eyebrow. ‘What are you looking at?’ she asks as she turns, and, in a bid to keep my magic a secret, in a bid to distract her, my brain – my pitiful, extremely drunk brain – makes a decision I can’t take back.
I grab Tia’s collar and pull her in.
She inhales sharply. Her eyes flick up to meet mine, questioning but also clouded, like she knows.
‘I’m going to do something I might regret,’ I whisper.
Tia’s lips part. I can almost taste her. ‘I’ve never kissed a girl before.’
I begin easing back. This is important. ‘If you don’t want—’
Tia’s hand rests against my wrist, the lightest brush that freezes me like Midas’s touch. ‘Be my first,’ she says, voice hoarse.
So I close the distance and kiss her.
Tia’s wine-stung lips taste the way I imagine moonshine would, sweetly tender, ruinously soft.
So gentle that I crumble – backed by the buzz of soju, urged by the tightening knot in my gut, I run a trembling thumb over Tia’s collarbone and slide a hand against the curve of her neck to pull her closer.
Saying I’ve never imagined kissing Tia is a horrendous lie. The night after our almost-kiss, I had lain in bed regretting the last sliver of space between our lips.
But in this moment, here, with Tia’s hands tangled in my hair, her teeth gently scoring my bottom lip, I think, This is why people worship gods, and I promise to be fucking devout.
We part for the span of a gasped breath. I lick my lips to chase the taste of her. ‘I don’t know where— Tell me where I can touch you.’
‘Okay.’ Tia’s eyes dart to my mouth and this time she’s the one who pulls me in. It’s fiercer, more certain, a profound blessing from God to man, and I give freely in to my anointment.
‘This okay?’ I murmur into Tia’s mouth as my hand slips down her waist.
‘Okay.’
Hand on her thigh, gripped.
‘Okay.’
Kiss to her neck, up to her ear.
‘That’s okay, that’s okay, that’s oka—’
I kiss her on the mouth. As Tia’s lips part, I realize I might unravel right here on the rooftop, might lose all hold on myself when Tia’s hand slides down to grip my thigh. My Fox senses sharpen and all I can hear is our heartbeats thudding, rapid and shallow.
I pull away, just enough that our lips still brush. ‘My room, please.’ A breathy plea strained with desperation and desire.
Tia nods and tugs me to stand.
I can’t count the seconds until we hit my door, nor remember the route we took, because the whole time I have my hands under Tia’s shirt and something about the way she takes my lips between hers sends lightning down my spine.
When I pull her in tight, it teases the prettiest sound from her throat.
When she pushes me against the wall, she braces my head so I won’t hurt myself, and it’s too much all at once – I give in to my enemy.
I wake with a dagger through my head and a stomach that feels as if I’ve been spun on a playground carousel a hundred rounds past my limit. God, what did I even do last night? Last night—
Oh shit, last night.
Tia is buried in a mound of covers beside me, light brown hair fanned over the swell of sheets and pillows.
Damn it. I burrow deeper under my covers. Last night was Tia’s lips soft and tart with alcohol, Tia’s knee slid between my thighs, her body pressed against my own. I screw my eyes shut to remember if we’d done anything more, but no. Thank God. Still, does she remember? Should I tell her I remember?
Will this change everything between us? I run a hand down my face. No, okay, there’s a chance that nothing will change. I’ve had flings with friends with no feelings. This is just another one of them, right? Or maybe if I’m lucky—
‘Why am I in your bed?’ Tia slurs as she shifts the blanket off her. ‘Christ, my head hurts.’
She doesn’t remember. The vice round my chest loosens immediately, even if the relief is quickly overturned by a wave of disappointment. ‘Your door wouldn’t open, so I let you bunk over.’
Tia frowns, pink sleep creases webbing over her cheek. ‘Huh.’ She turns her face into the pillow like she’s about to go back to sleep.
I consider chasing her out, but she looks too comfortable, so I grab my phone instead to pass the time.
27 missed calls.
Wait, that doesn’t look good. More than half of them are from Kiran, a few others from Niko, then a dozen texts. I open the first.
Niko: HARPER WHERE ARE YOU THE STYLISTS ARE ALL HERE AND DID YOU KIDNAP TIA?
Stylists. To look pretty.
Because there’s an event. Today. ‘Holy shit, we’re late!’
A muffled snort escapes Tia and a silly, overly wide grin spreads over her face. ‘Ha! You’re always late. For what?’
‘Event prep, genius.’ Cold washes over me and sleep flees, beaten by panic. I’m still in last night’s clothes, and I definitely have to change. I run my tongue over my teeth. The toilet’s way too far.
Breath mint it is.
I see the second my words settle into Tia.
Her eyes blow wide and she shoots up, flinging her blanket aside. ‘Niko’s going to kill us!’
‘Excellent detective work,’ I bite as I yank a shirt from my cupboard. ‘Want an award for that?’
‘Why wouldn’t you set an alarm?’ Tia leaps out of bed, stumbling when the sheets tangle over her ankles.
‘Between hard alcohol and more hard alcohol, literally where do you think I found time for that?’ I button my jeans and grab a hair tie. On my phone, another minute passes. ‘They’re already here, but I’m sure they can wait a while longer. It’s okay.’
Tia grabs her phone off the bedside table. Freezes in front of the mirror. ‘Oh no, I can’t go like this.’
I scrunch my nose as I sling my bag over her shoulder. ‘What?’
She whips to face me, her face a study in horror as she gestures wildly at her rumpled top.
I resist the urge to slam my head into the doorframe. ‘No one cares.’
‘They’re filming our prep today. If I go out there looking like this, I’ll be doing the walk of shame.’
‘Just get it from your room.’
‘Didn’t you say my door wouldn’t open?’
Right. I clear my throat. ‘. . . Right.’
‘Please.’ Tia clasps her hands together.
‘Fine,’ I grumble. If we keep arguing we’ll only waste more time. I reach for my laundry chair and toss a lightly abused hoodie at Tia. ‘Take this and let’s go.’
Tia yanks her shirt off in a fluid motion and I whip my gaze down to my phone, heart thudding. The clock ticks down on my screen, under my blank stare. There’s pointedly nothing else in my vision.
‘There’s a bra in here,’ I hear Tia say. Then, ‘Jesus Christ, please buy another bra.’
‘That’s my emotional support one.’ I wait until I feel like she’s done before pushing my phone into my pocket and glancing up.
I’m met with a glare.
Tia gestures over her front as we make for the door. ‘You make me wish I never changed.’
It’s actually one of my favourites, worn thin and black with a picture of a squished Ratatouille plushie and the words ‘I DON’T WANT TO COOK ANY MORE. I WANT TO DIE’ across the chest. I’d bought it on impulse last year.
‘Come on.’ I wrench my door open. If I’m being really honest, I’d picked it for the sole satisfaction of seeing Tia wear it on TV, but no one has to know that. ‘Best rat shirt for the prettiest rat I know.’
Tia does not look impressed.
We sprint to the lift with two minutes left. I spam the lift button for Level 30 and glance at her.
Her hair’s mussed from wrestling the hoodie over her head, the sleeves falling above her wrists, the hem just shy of her shorts.
Don’t blush. I’m better than this. Better than looking at my enemy and observing her in too much detail. Better than sexualizing someone in the first place.
Oh, who am I kidding? I made out with Tia in my bed last night. And, even if she doesn’t remember it, seeing her in my hoodie makes my stomach flip and my heart thump. My heartbeat roars in the silence of the lift.
I ignore it. Instead, I dig in my pocket and come up with a packet of sweets.
I pop one and offer another to Tia. ‘Mint?’