CHAPTER 7 #2
“I knew my plan would work,” Adrian laughed. “I am quite resourceful.”
Lyra bit her lip, the slight sting a small distraction from the sarcastic retort bubbling up.
The hum of distant traffic faded as they turned away from the main street and the clatter of the tram.
Instead, Adrian led her towards a sleek, black electric sedan, its polished surface reflecting the muted streetlights.
He held the passenger door open for her to slide in.
"Clara still works at her father’s business?” Lyra asked, sliding into the passenger seat and hoping to shift the subject.
“Part-time,” Adrian replied, settling behind the wheel. “Her parents are pushing her to apply to the Sun Temple again. You know they rejected her application, also?”
Lyra shook her head, the gentle hum of Adrian’s car a low rumble as it glided effortlessly through the traffic. Outside, the sun bled a fiery orange and deep purple across the horizon, casting long, stretching shadows that danced on the asphalt.
“She is worshipping Seren now,” Adrian snickered. “Can you see her being peaceful? She does yoga or something.”
A prickle of curiosity, sharp and almost ticklish, ran up my spine. A low hum of satisfaction, warm and settling in my chest, accompanied the thought that Clara, too, had been denied. “So why do her parents want her to apply for Elio?”
“Says she needs to elevate her profile now that you’re… well, you.” He didn’t elaborate; instead, he pulled smoothly onto a street. “Hungry? I know a place downtown. Old-school diner.”
Lyra simply nodded. Adrian drove on, the car’s headlights cutting through the twilight as they arrived at a small, fluorescent-lit diner, a beacon beneath the rumbling tracks of the elevated tramline.
He gently gripped her elbow, his touch a subtle pressure as he guided her inside.
A quick, instinctive urge to flinch tightened her muscles, but she suppressed it, not wanting to draw attention.
The long counter gleamed with polished chrome, reflecting the harsh lights, and the booths, upholstered in cool, slick red vinyl, beckoned.
The air, thick and warm, carried the savory scent of fried potatoes mingled with the bitter aroma of strong coffee.
They slid into a booth, and a waitress with a Threxus pin on her apron came over.
Before Lyra could even look at the menu, Adrian spoke up, shoving them back at the waitress. “We’ll take two orders of the Classic Sunrise Platter. Extra bacon. And two coffees. Two creamers and three sugars.”
Lyra’s jaw tightened. She hated overly sweet coffee and rarely ate the heavy, greasy breakfast platter for dinner.
It was a completely impersonal order, presuming her tastes hadn’t changed since high school.
She almost snapped at him, but bit the words back, choosing instead to focus on the anonymity of the moment.
Let it go. It’s just food. You’re out and you don’t want to draw attention to yourself.
She pulled the sunglasses off and set them on the table next to her.
When the waitress left, Adrian leaned forward, his chocolate-brown eyes fixing on hers. “So, tell me everything. The Strife God? The Lust God? You’ve made some impressive friends. Are you actually a goddess, or is this just a massive marketing stunt for some minor cult?"
"There’s not much to tell, Adrian,” Lyra said, her eyes darting around the diner. “It’s exactly what the news said. I was denied by every god, and then the Strife God told me why."
Adrian laughed, a genuine, delighted sound.
“Of course, he did. Strife. The irony. It’s perfect.
It makes you an instant icon. You’re not a reject; you’re a prophecy.
” He paused, then his smile turned softer, more familiar.
“You know, I always knew you were destined for something bigger than the rest of us, Lyra. "
"Is that why you broke up with me? Because you knew I was ‘destined for something bigger’?” Lyra’s voice dripped with a mocking, sharp sarcasm, the words curling like smoke, their edges glinting with an unseen, bitter humor.
Lyra looked at the table when she saw the waitress coming back. The waitress returned, the clink of ceramic mugs a sharp sound against the diner’s hum. She placed two steaming cups of coffee on the table.
Adrian’s eyes flickered, the momentary sincerity vanishing, replaced by a smooth deflection.
“Come on, Lyra. High school. We were kids. We were just following the rules, the divine order. That’s what we were taught.
But you… you don’t have to follow those rules anymore.
That’s why I wanted to see you. Because you’re the most fascinating person in this city right now.
You look amazing, by the way. Even more beautiful than you were back then. "
Lyra managed a tentative half-smile, letting the compliment slide. “So, you’re just here to bask in the fascinating glow of my future divinity?"
"I’m here because you still give me that look,” he countered, his voice dropping slightly. “The one you used to give me in the hallway. It’s a little more guarded now, a little more dangerous. It suits you."
“Look?” she asked, her brow furrowed, a hint of bewilderment clouding her eyes.
"Those big green eyes would always look at me like I was the hero in some fantasy story,” he laughed. His hand came out, squeezing her hand that was stirring the coffee. “I could always see the butterflies I gave you. Feel the butterflies those eyes gave me.”
She looked at him, really looked at him.
There was a coldness in his eyes. She felt as though they weren’t looking at her, but at what he thought she could do for him.
The waitress dropped their plates at the table with a simple enjoy and left.
The more she stared at his face, the more she realized she didn’t feel the same.
She didn’t even want to finish this meal with him.
But she did want answers, answers to questions that had plagued her teenage years.
“So, how did you and everyone else learn that I was denied back in the day?” A mischievous glint lit her eyes, mirroring the upward curve of her lips. It was the same smile that had her mother sighing, the one that promised a bit of trouble.
Laughing, he shook his head. “My aunt is one of the clerical staff for Elio. When you were denied, she let my mother know right away. My mother lectured me on how important appearances were, so I had to do what she said.”
“So, she told you to embarrass me in front of everyone?”
“We’ve both done things we regret in life, Lyra,” he sighed dramatically.
“That was one thing I regretted. I should never have listened to my mother. I missed you. The number of times I would hear our song and want to call you. Even now, I know you are so special. Just looking at you, I feel those butterflies stirring.”
"Adrian," she sighed, pushing a piece of bacon around her plate.
“At one point you gave me all the butterflies. I actually thought we’d be together forever.
But then, on that fateful day, you murdered each and every one of them.
Those butterflies are all dead now. You murdered them in that hallway in front of a crowd. "
"Maybe I can bring them back to life,” he murmured with a cocky grin spreading across his face. “Maybe they just needed a better atmosphere to thrive in."
“You mean one where I have zero self-respect?” Her laughter, a bright, tinkling sound, echoed as she shook her head, no longer caring who was watching.
“Come on, Lyra.” He reached for her hand again, but she pulled it back before he could grab it. “We were young and dumb. Now we can explore our feelings without parents or childish expectations.”
“Or you could explore all your feelings all by yourself, minus me.” She rose, her hand fumbling for the sunglasses. “May the gods be ever with you,” she snorted her last shot, not waiting for a response.
As she turned to leave, a cacophony of clinking silverware and hushed chatter filled the air. She wanted to slam the money down, a satisfying punctuation to her departure, but her wallet was empty, a hollow ache. Instead, she slipped out, leaving the burden of the bill to him.