Thirty-Eight #2
So Thia continued. “Apparently he heard the whole thing,” Thia said.
“He ate with me and said I didn’t need Stacey, because we were best friends now.
And he meant it. That’s exactly what we became.
” Her eyes stung as fresh sadness washed over her at his absence.
This was the longest they’d gone without seeing each other in, well—since that day.
Finally Oskaren spoke. She snuck out a hand across the mattress and touched Thia’s forearm. “I’m sorry that happened to you.” Longing crept into her voice. “I wish I could meet him.” Something about it reminded Thia of the girl’s previous question, What’s Kansas like?
She’d thought a lot about how she and Dess were alike, both of them knowing the same loss, the same loneliness.
But for the first time she considered that she might share something with Oskaren too—that unquenchable thirst to understand the full scope of the universe.
Though on the other girl it was daring, a confidence that had led her all over the corners of this world, whereas Thia’s timidity had kept her quests largely theoretical.
Oskaren ran her thumb in a delicate arc, sending sparks across Thia’s skin. “He would definitely like you,” Thia said, trying to keep her lungs steady. It was a strange picture, Oskaren in Kansas. But not an unwelcome one.
Gathering her courage, she inched a bit closer, so her unoccupied arm could stretch out and brush some of the girl’s hair off her forehead.
Oskaren closed her eyes, basking in the touch.
The sight of it sent a little shiver of delight through Thia, and another as Oskaren’s hand slid from her forearm to her shoulder then down to her waist. Oskaren paused in the dip there, palms like brands through the thin spider silk.
Thia struggled to hear over the rush of her heartbeat, especially as Oskaren said next, voice a little rasping, “Faelyn.”
“Why do you call me that?” Thia asked again, unable to resist.
Oskaren opened her eyes, lips tugging upward. “I’m rather enjoying how badly you want to know.”
Thia stuck out her tongue. “Asshole.”
The smile grew, and Oskaren’s hand roamed slowly up Thia’s side until it found the bead at the end of her braid.
She picked that up, rolling it between thumb and forefinger.
“I haven’t been home to Aeskrow since it was razed,” she began.
“I only have a few memories of the place. There’s a tree that grows north of the Gilderung Mountains.
In summer, it looks like any other, brown bark and emerald leaves.
But in winter”—her knuckles grazed Thia’s throat as she twirled the braid—“when the rest of the world turns bare and white, it keeps its leaves. They become deep copper, stark against the pale landscape.” She gave the braid a small tug.
“The bark takes on a hazel hue.” She released it and reached a tentative finger to trace the skin under Thia’s left eye, then her right.
“And what is this tree called?” Thia asked a little breathlessly, already knowing the answer, but wanting to hear it all the same.
Oskaren leaned closer, so they were only inches apart. “Is it really a mystery?” Her gaze burned. “Not a day goes by when I don’t miss those trees. But sometimes”—her hand returned to Thia’s waist—“I can still see them. In a girl with dark coppery hair and eyes like bark. When I look at her….”
When Oskaren looked at her, she saw home.
Thia’s heart squeezed painfully. She tilted her chin. She could feel the girl’s breath on her mouth as Oskaren repeated, “Faelyn.”
“Faelyn,” Thia echoed. “Me.” She reached out her own arm, daring to curl it around Oskaren’s back, drawing her closer still.
“You,” Oskaren agreed, then added, softer. “I understand, you know. Why you’re fighting so hard to get home. I would, too, if mine still existed.”
Thia’s breath hitched. Oskaren’s hand traced her cheek. Thia’s focus skipped downward, fixed on the girl’s mouth, feeling as though all the world was sending her tumbling toward it. “Ren,” she said, hesitating only a second. “Can I—can I kiss you?”
Oskaren blinked. She considered Thia’s lips; Thia willed her to capture them with her own. But instead of leaning the last breadth, she turned her chin away, back up toward the ceiling.
Thia let her go immediately. “Sorry. Pretend I didn’t—”
“Thia,” Oskaren said, then repeated, when Thia’s head wouldn’t stop spinning. “Thia.” She took Thia’s hands. “It’s alright.”
Thia struggled to focus, resisting the urge to yank her hands away.
“I want to kiss you. I’ve thought about it. A lot. More than you know.”
“Oh.” Thia stared at her, trying to believe it.
Oskaren blew out a breath. “But I haven’t kissed anyone in a long time. Not since….”
Not since the one she’d never wanted, the one that had left her cursed.
“Oh,” Thia repeated, with more understanding this time.
So when the girl added, “I want to. For you,” Thia shook her head and tucked the girl’s hands in close to her chest.
“If it’s not for you, too, then it’s not what I want.”
Oskaren took a breath, then nodded. She gave a small huff, then turned onto her back, pulling Thia’s hands with her. “Then maybe tonight we can just talk.”
“Of course,” Thia agreed. She waited until Oskaren faced her again and offered a smile so the girl would know she was genuine.
Then she rolled on her back too but scooted in close so their shoulders pressed together.
“I’ve never kissed anyone,” she admitted, cheeks pink.
Then felt the need to explain, so Oskaren wouldn’t think she was inept, “But I googled it so I’d be prepared.
Researched,” she added, at Oskaren’s apparent confusion.
The girl gaped at her. Then threw back her head and laughed.
“What?” Thia asked, delighted and bemused.
“You researched it?”
“That’s how I learn everything,” Thia protested, flustered.
Oskaren groaned good-naturedly, then rolled over to gather her close, one arm going around the back of her neck, a leg draped over her thighs. “Gods. Quite the little scholar, aren’t you?”
Thia grinned into her neck, inhaling the floral scent of her freshly washed hair. Heat pooled in her core as she threaded her own leg between Oskaren’s. “Yeah, well. How do you learn then?”
“All I can tell you is that I didn’t learn swordplay from a book,” Oskaren said, running her hand through Thia’s hair. “Other activities are much the same.”
“Fair enough,” Thia said, trying not to think too hard about what it would mean to learn to be good at other activities with Oskaren.
They lapsed into silence again, contented this time, as their hands learned the bones of each other’s spines. When Oskaren’s began to drag, Thia pulled back to see she’d shut her eyes.
“I should go to my tent,” she said, regretfully.
“Don’t,” Oskaren objected. Her tone was soft, drowsy. “Stay.”
“Okay,” Thia agreed, needing very little convincing. She settled back into the crook of Oskaren’s neck, her arm splayed over the girl’s ribs. “Sweet dreams.” Oskaren’s slow breaths told Thia she was already peacefully—Thia marveled that the other girl could be so—asleep.