Chapter 13 Tamsin #3
I do finally use my phone for something other than doom scrolling, though. I can’t stomach the idea of talking to a police officer or even a magicians’ dueling commissioner. I need someone familiar. Someone who knows how to listen.
I thumb through my phone until I find the contact I want. I send the text before I can think better of it. And then I simply wait.
“Is everything okay?”
What a loaded question. I look up as Samantha Chan enters the training arena.
Concern colors her face when she speaks.
For once, she’s not in her signature oversized hoodie.
Instead, she’s wearing a plain white tee, unisex fit, which hangs loosely on her broad shoulders, a messy bun on her head.
She usually looks dressed for the training arena; today, she looks dressed for a grocery run.
Who knows? Maybe I interrupted one when I texted her.
I struggle over my answer to her question. “Everything is…” I trail off then begin again. Who am I kidding? “No, I guess everything’s not okay.”
“I kind of figured.” She takes a seat beside me in the middle of the arena. I’ve commandeered one of the target dummies to use as a makeshift bench of sorts. She plops down on its head while I sit on its belly. “You didn’t really sound like yourself in your text.”
“Oh?” That gets a weak laugh out of me, but it’s a laugh, all the same. “And how do I normally sound?”
“Happy.” Sam’s response arrives without hesitation. “You sound—you always seem—happy.” She pauses, and adds, a little wryly, “Lots of emojis and exclamation points. When you texted asking to meet here, you didn’t use any. You even, god forbid, ended a sentence with an actual period.”
“The true mortal sin,” I acknowledge. “Thanks for meeting me anyway.”
“Of course. So cut to the chase. What’s the matter?”
I look at Sam, my throat tight. Here’s the moment of truth.
I can come clean. I’m sitting face-to-face with the girl whose brother died because of what my family did to hers.
She deserves to know the truth. If someone’s going to drag all the ugly Blackwood skeletons out of our closet, it should be Samantha Chan. It’s what we owe her.
I stare at those inquisitive dark eyes of hers.
I will myself to speak. I don’t understand why it’s so hard.
Sam has always been so very easy to talk to.
The first person in eighteen years that I’ve really, truly been able to talk to without fear or restraint, words falling from my lips, as natural as the air expelled from my lungs.
“Tamsin?” Sam whispers. “Hey. What’s the matter? You can tell me.”
I can’t.
My mouth slams into hers before I can stop myself. It’s a messy kiss, our teeth knocking together, as one of my hands flails out for balance on the target dummy. Sam inhales sharply against my lips.
I pull away, mortified. Sam stares at me, one hand against her swollen mouth, her eyes huge.
“I’m sorry,” I gasp. This is it. I’ve ruined things between us. I’ve ruined everything. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking, I didn’t mean to—”
With a frustrated grunt, Sam grabs me by the wrist and yanks me toward her. I yelp as her mouth catches mine again. This kiss is smoother than our first, less hasty and awkward, but it feels no less hungry.
In the tiny, liminal space of that kiss, everything else stops mattering. I don’t think about blood spilled or debts owed. I don’t think about guilt. I don’t worry about Dad, or Rook, or even Sam’s poor dead brother. And I don’t give a damn about whether I’m a good person or not.
All I care about when Sam’s lips touch mine is how badly I want to stay like this with her forever. How badly I want to keep kissing her with no thought for cost or consequence.
“I’m sorry,” I gasp again as we come up for air. “I’m sorry, I don’t—well, I’m sorry.” I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be sorry for anymore, but I can’t stop saying it.
Sam groans, resting her forehead against mine. “Haven’t I told you already?” she whispers. Her breath gusts against my lips. “You should stop apologizing so much.”
Her hand cups the back of my neck, digging into the hair that’s fallen loose from my ponytail. My eyes flutter closed. Obediently, I shut up.
And for another blissful stretch of time, I think of nothing at all except Samantha Chan, here in my arms.
I’m not sure how long we keep kissing for, but Sam’s the one who finally breaks it off. “Shit,” she mutters and presses the heels of her hands against her eyelids. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Done what?” My heart races as I straighten out my clothing.
“Kissed you, obviously.” She groans into her hands. “Shit,” she repeats.
“Technically, I kissed you,” I point out helpfully.
“I shouldn’t have kissed you back.”
“I didn’t mind very much.” Why can’t I stop staring at Sam’s mouth? “I didn’t mind at all, in fact.”
“I know.”
My throat tightens again. “Did you?”
Sam snorts. “Obviously not. That’s the problem.
” She finally looks at me, an utterly miserably expression on her face.
“You and Lysander Rook are less than two weeks out from the biggest magicians’ duel of the year.
Your performance in the arena on that night could make or break your career.
” She spreads her hands. “And I’m your opponent’s second.
It’s a conflict of interest, Tam. A huge one. ”
I feel my chin jut out stubbornly. “I won’t tell anyone if you won’t.”
“It’s not a matter of telling or not telling.
” Sam stands up, straightening out her T-shirt and joggers as she flicks imaginary dust off her skin.
“It’s what…continuing to carry on like this with you will do to you.
What it’ll do to me. What it’ll do to Rook, maybe worst of all.
Honestly, you and me being together like this, it’s not good for either of you—you or him.
” She closes her eyes. “It’s not even good for me. ”
“Sam.” I hate the pleading note that’s entered my voice. “Don’t do this.”
“I have to.” She makes for the door. “There’s no version of this story that doesn’t end badly for all three of us.”
“You felt it,” I insist. “You feel what I feel.”
Sam pauses as she reaches the arena exit. Carefully, she looks over her shoulder at me. “Maybe,” she begins, swallows, and begins again. “Maybe after the duel,” she manages. “Whatever happens in the New York Magicians’ Arena, let it happen. And after, you can decide what you want with me.”
She flees the training arena before I can give her an answer.