12. CHAPTER TWELVE #2
“Which I think is Velan for ‘your brain is weird in a useful way.’”
Her lips parted, her eyes flicking to the sketchbook and back.
“And?” she prompted.
“And he wants to hire me,” I said. “Officially. Remote freelance while we’re on tour, from the bus and venues, doing illustration and campaign work. Then, if it goes well, a longer contract after the tour, doing art for the label.”
I couldn’t keep the grin out of my voice. It spilled over, bright and shaky and very real.
“It’s… my dream job,” I said, the words feeling ridiculous and perfect in my mouth. “Like, the exact thing my brain has secretly wanted but never thought it was allowed to ask for.”
Her expression changed.
At first, I thought she was happy for me. Then I realized there was something else beneath it. Her gaze dropped to the sketchbook, and her glow dimmed slightly around the edges.
“That’s…” she began, then stopped and let out a sigh. “That’s huge, Vada.”
“I know,” I said, breathless. “I know. And I—I said yes.”
The words tumbled out before I could make them sound less frantic.
“I already said yes.”
I hugged my sketchbook even tighter and squealed in excitement as I closed my eyes and did a little dance on the bench.
When I calmed down and opened my eyes, something in her posture had changed. It was small, but I felt it like a drop in cabin pressure. Her shoulders had tightened by a fraction. Her hands, resting on her shins, had gone still.
“You said yes,” she muttered solemnly.
“I mean, I can still look over the contract and argue about clauses,” I said quickly. “It’s not like I signed my soul away on a napkin. But—yeah. I told him I wanted it. If I didn’t accept it, I knew I would find ways to talk myself out of it.”
She looked away toward the city.
“I thought I was going to have one thing that was mine,” she said.
I blinked.
“What?”
“One thing,” she repeated. “Not for the label. Not for the fans. Not for the cameras. Not something Sira could put into a schedule or Tev could turn into a campaign.”
Her fingers tightened around her knees.
“I thought I could have this with you. This little piece of time where you were here because you wanted to be with me. Not because you had a contract or a role or something else tying you to the tour.”
My chest tightened.
“Zhar…”
“I know that sounds selfish,” she said quickly. “I know you are allowed to have a life outside of me. I know that. But I thought…” She swallowed. “I thought this could be the one thing I didn’t have to share with everyone else.”
Her eyes flicked toward me, hurt and embarrassed.
“And now Tev has found a way to make you part of the machine too.”
“That isn’t what I meant,” I said. “I’m not choosing the job instead of you.”
“But you didn’t think to talk to me first,” she said.
“I—” I started, then stopped. “I didn’t think I needed to. I didn’t think it was a big deal, Zhari. We’ll have more time together now.”
I reached for her hands.
She pulled away, leaning back as if my touch burned. Her shoulders went rigid, and she sat up straight, her jaw tight.
My stomach dipped.
As soon as I said it, I knew it was the wrong thing.
Her expression didn’t crack, but something behind her eyes did. She looked away for a second, blinking hard.
“You didn’t think you needed to,” she echoed.
“No… I really didn’t. I’m not saying your opinion doesn’t matter,” I muttered.
“It’s just—it’s my job. My work. It felt like…
like if I waited until I’d gotten everyone’s blessing, I’d never do it.
And I’ve spent my whole life doing that.
Waiting. Shrinking. Letting other people tell me what I’m allowed to want. ”
A bitter little laugh slipped out of Zhari as she continued looking away from me.
“I didn’t want to do that again,” I added more softly.
She stared past me for a long moment, out at the city.
“Do you know what it looked like from here?” she asked finally. “From where I have been standing?”
“What?” I asked, my voice thin.
“You telling Tev yes the moment he put something big and terrifying in front of you,” she said. “While the universe put something bigger and more terrifying in front of you weeks ago, and you told it, ‘Not yet.’”
My heart was pounding so fast that I felt lightheaded. I put my sketchbook down and ran my hands over my thighs until they landed on my knees. I squeezed them and let out a long breath I had been holding.
“That’s not—” I began, then clamped my mouth shut.
Because it was true, in a way.
I’d seen the bond, felt it humming between us like a live wire, and stepped back.
Ask me later. I’m not ready.
Tev had held up a different kind of wire, and I’d grabbed it with both hands.
“It’s not the same, Zhar,” I tried to explain. “The job doesn’t have cosmic implications. It doesn’t mean binding my life to someone else’s forever. It just means drawing things for a company instead of for fun.”
“Is that really all you think this is?” she asked quietly. “Drawing things for a company?”
“That’s not what I meant,” I said quickly. “I just—this felt safe to say yes to. It felt like something I could claim that was mine.”
“And the bond isn’t yours,” she said.
“That’s not fair,” I blurted. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
An ache started behind my eyes.