Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Seventeen
Aila sat on a rock ledge, legs dangling, fingers fidgeting with the radio on her belt.
“What if this is a fluke?” she worried.
“How could this be a fluke, Aila?” Tanya shot her a dry look from downslope, brandishing an electric drill, shoulder jammed against a metal screen as she attempted to bolt it to the rock.
Khonsu, the Bix phoenix, perched above her, staring down his long heron bill with an annoyed puff of white cheek feathers, nibbling at the entrance to his favorite hiding hole.
“I don’t know,” Aila said. “Maybe Connor didn’t mean to ask me out. It could have been an accident.”
“Did he kiss you on accident, too?”
“Stranger things have happened.”
Tanya rolled her eyes and shoved the screen in place. Her drill let out an ear-splitting whine as she tried to force a screw into stone. The only hardware they’d dug up at the zoo’s equipment barn was meant for wood.
“What do you think, Khonsu?” Aila asked, turning to the more receptive bird. “Maybe we should reschedule. Cancel, even.”
The phoenix croaked. Tanya let out a groan that could have been for Aila or the rock.
“You can’t cancel on that poor boy, Ailes. You’re worrying too much.”
Aila was, indeed, worrying. Who could say it was too much, given her disastrous dating history?
“What if we have nothing to talk about?” Aila worried as Tanya gave up on the metal screen with a cry of defeat.
“What if he thinks I’m boring? Or weird?” Aila worried as they returned the equipment.
“What if I clam up over dinner?” Aila worried as they stood in line for lunch, Tanya’s eyes rolled to the ceiling.
“What if I choke while we’re eating?” Aila worried around a mouthful of cheese fries. “Or what if I trip, accidentally punch a waiter in the face, get us thrown out of the—”
“ Aila! ” Tanya pointed her fork like a weapon.
“OK, maybe that’s a little extreme.” Aila slumped and poked her food. “But not by much, Tanya. This is me we’re talking about.”
Tanya sighed and finished her lunch.
As they walked back to the phoenix complex, a griffin show keeper passed them on the path. Nadia, the technology goddess who’d updated the phoenix security cameras in a single afternoon. She glanced up from her phone, followed by a wave that had gotten much friendlier since their collaboration.
“Oh hey, Tanya, Aila—”
Aila shoved Tanya into a brisker walk. “So good to see you, Nadia! Please excuse us, we have a leaking faucet in the phoenix exhibit we need to fix. Have a nice day.”
Tanya sighed the loudest yet but went along with it.
When they reached the phoenix complex, Aila dropped into her desk chair. Flailed her arms. Groaned. How was she supposed to get any work done when she had a date with a boy later tonight ?
“Aila,” Tanya said. “I love you. But I’m going to need you to take a deep breath and stop being weird.”
“But I’m so bad at this,” Aila whined.
“Everyone’s bad at dating. All those hormones and awkward nerves.”
“I’m only awkward nerves. Always.”
“Which is why you’ve got to practice.” Tanya softened. “Dates are scary. But also fun . Make sure you have some fun tonight, Ailes.”
Aila wasn’t sure. Being swallowed by a crater and consumed beneath the bowels of the dirt sounded a lot easier. “I thought you weren’t crazy about Connor?”
Tanya shrugged. “It’s a high bar to be worthy of my best girl. Only way to find out is if you talk to him. I expect a full play-by-play afterward. Obviously.”
“Obviously,” Aila grumbled. “I’ll recount every excruciating detail of me blundering a cup off the table, spilling scalding coffee all over him, having to call an ambulance for—”
She squeaked like an over-inflated mouse when Connor poked his head in the door.
“Afternoon, ladies! Just wanted to… Oh geez, Aila, sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you?”
Aila clamped a hand white-knuckled to her desk, the other to her sternum, zero words running through her brain beyond a high-pitched buzzing sound. At her outburst, Tanya nearly fell out of her chair. She swiveled, searching for the escaped zoo animal or freak tsunami that must have prompted such hysteria, settling instead on the puzzled hunk of a zookeeper standing on their linoleum threshold. She snapped a stern look onto Aila, a silent say something .
“Good afternoon to you, Connor!” Aila said. Several decibels too loud.
Tanya abandoned subtlety, pressing a hand to her temple. Stop worrying. All Aila had to do was stop worrying for ten seconds. Maybe twenty. Sixty would be exceedingly generous.
“Hope I’m not interrupting.” Connor smiled at Aila, those flushed cheeks digging a slight dimple, that lock of dark hair deliciously wayward across his forehead. Every rational thought turned to porridge. “Could I snag a minute with—”
“Mm-hm.” Tanya headed out the door to give them privacy, a smirk on her lips. Traitor.
Aila loved her to death.
Then they were alone. Butterflies tried to erupt from Aila’s belly, stirred by the memory of lips pressed to hers. Cool fingers brushing her chin. She straightened in her chair. Maybe he’d come to back out. Maybe he’d realized his mistake.
Connor smiled again. Her bones nearly disintegrated.
“Still on for tonight?” he asked.
“Definitely,” she squeaked. “Seven o’clock.”
“Enough time for you to change?”
Aila’s nose scrunched. “Change?”
“Well, yeah.” Connor chuckled. “You weren’t planning to wear your zoo uniform to dinner?”
No, Aila would never do something like that.
Never.
She forced a laugh.
“I was thinking the Merlion Bistro,” Connor said. “You know the place?”
Aila startled. “The Merlion Bistro? Of course I know it. But that’s, like…” She grimaced. “A fancy place.”
“Well, yeah, that’s kind of the point?”
Aila had envisioned something lower profile for a first date. A cozy coffee shop. Maybe a diner. Somewhere easy to hide, easy to escape if things went bad.
“That’s very thoughtful,” she said, “but we don’t have to…”
“Please, Aila.” He grinned, a lopsided trump card. “I insist. You’ll have a great time.”
When Connor left, Aila spun in her chair until dizzy, even more jittery than before.
Aila discovered, to her horror, she owned only two dresses.
Expecting anything more had been, perhaps, optimistic, but Aila wore nice clothes so rarely, she dove into her closet after work hoping she might be surprised by the contents. No such luck. She pulled out a simple blue dress with a crumple of fabric flowers at the waist, a relic she’d worn to a cousin’s wedding. The second was a floor-length black thing Tanya bought for her after Aila lost a bet, then laughed her ass off through an entire night of opera as Aila moped in her slinky skirts.
Simple blue it was.
Aila owned a single hairbrush. A couple of phoenix barrettes and a curling iron she had no idea how to use. Best not to tempt fate tonight. She smoothed her auburn frizz as much as it would tolerate, pinning back unruly bangs.
Skies and seas, who even invented high heels? Aila ignored the single pair in her closet and threw on some flats.
She tapped them against the train floor for the entire ride to the harbor.
When Aila emerged from the stairwell of the downtown station, cold air blustered the sidewalk, making her shiver. Should have brought a jacket. Her collection of fashion accessories was too slim. She clutched her arms and waddled down the street like a Vjari auk, desperate for every heater she passed on restaurant patios. Her parents’ pub was a couple of blocks over.
Two blocks made a world of difference. Aila’s zone of comfort had fluorescent store fronts and frying oil. Here instead were smoky interiors. Trees dressed up in string lights and painted sidewalk planters. Wheels of griffin-pulled carriages clacked cobblestone, transporting tourists in sparkling evening attire that made Aila’s rumpled dress look like a thrift store reject.
The Merlion Bistro held the place of honor at the end of the pier, name lit up in swooping script almost too elegant to read, harbor waves lapping the pilings. At the door, an attendant in a three-piece suit waited by a podium, too busy flipping through a reservations book to note Aila’s approach. All the better.
No sign of Connor yet. Nerves compelled Aila to arrive several minutes early. She could head inside the ritzy place on her own…
A bark from the waterfront snagged her attention.
She scuttled away from the lights and mood music, salt breeze tangling her hair as she leaned over the railing. San Tamculo started as a fishing harbor, hauling krakens from the depths of the Middle Sea. Most boats nowadays served tourists. The coasts here had no coral reefs as grand as the Naelo Archipelago, but the Movasi kelp forest was stunning for its own sake, home to such charming creatures as… A smile lit Aila’s cheeks when she spotted a pod of merlions lounging on the rocks below the pier. Golden fur coated lion snouts and paws, tapering into a hind flipper. She propped her head in her hands and watched.
Awkward creatures. Like her. They sprawled their blubbery bodies without a care for fancy dresses or fancy restaurants, their world as simple as wriggling to a comfortable spot and barking at any neighbors who approached too close. What a life. The ability to breathe air and water interchangeably wasn’t bad, either. What Aila wouldn’t give for the option to hide beneath the depths of the ocean now and then.
“Well, look at that. Don’t you clean up nice?”
Aila spun, an unintentional twirl of her dress.
She almost didn’t recognize Connor in an unstained button-down. Tailored slacks. His dark hair was slicked sideways with gel, accentuating that distracting curl against his temple. All of him was distracting. Her cheeks burned beneath his unfair onslaught of formal attire and work-toned physique.
And then there was her.
Self-conscious, Aila smoothed the wrinkled fabric flower at her waist. When that proved fruitless, she pointed to the harbor. “Have you seen the merlions?”
Connor’s head tilted. “The merlions?”
“Yeah. Down by the water. I think they’re the south coast subspecies, based on the coat color, but it’s kind of hard to tell in the dark—”
When Connor took her hand, Aila’s world narrowed to the bloom of heat in her palm. The brush of fingers rough with work calluses. He leaned in so close, she thought she might freeze in place, chiseled to the pier for the gulls to perch upon for all eternity.
“Come on,” he said, low, breath tickling her ear. “You must be freezing. Let’s get you inside.” He pulled her away from the merlions, head shaking in bemusement.
Aila pouted but went along with him.
As fancy as the Merlion Bistro looked from the outside, the inside was worse. White tablecloths coated every surface, decked with glittering silverware and tea candles in frosted glass cups. The burgundy carpet had no stains. Violins played from the speakers. A wall of windows overlooked the harbor, bordered in dim lights and portraits of boats.
This was the type of place Aila and Tanya might visit once in a blue moon, just for the ridiculous factor. A night masquerading as fancy people eating fancy food, but with the comfort of a friend to laugh with. Connor, she didn’t know as well. As the host led them to a table, she focused on not tripping and smacking someone’s champagne to the floor.
The menu was thick—cardstock pages in plastic sleeves and a cover of shiny leather, no discoloration from old salsa spills. Connor ordered a glass of white wine. Aila didn’t often drink wine, but she imagined a place like this wouldn’t be big on fruity umbrella drinks. Wine it was.
Her nose wrinkled at a strong, spiced smell. Connor was wearing cologne. He never wore cologne at the zoo, though no surprise, given how sensitive dragons were to scent. Aila preferred him smelling of aviary musk—then chastised the thought away. She was supposed to act like a normal person tonight.
“Cheers.” Connor lifted his glass. “To your new phoenix.”
Aila returned the toast, then sipped her wine. Oaky. Dry. She stopped herself from smacking her lips.
“Have you had dinner here before?” Connor asked.
“No. Not that I have anything against it. I mean…” She set her glass on the tablecloth and toyed a finger around the edge. “I don’t eat out all that much. Too tired after work.”
“Sure, we can all commiserate on that.” His smile flashed, bright in the dim dining room. “Got to let loose sometimes, though? You work hard all day, ought to enjoy your time off.”
“It’s not so bad. Picking up after birds, at least. The kelpie gets muckier, but it could be worse. I assume dragons are more of a handful.”
Connor shrugged.
“Not that dragons aren’t incredible,” Aila continued, more comfortable as she fell into her safe topics. “But phoenixes have always had my heart. Rubra, obviously. I could spend hours watching her play in her olive trees. Some of the posts I’ve seen pop up on Griffingram are to die for. Can you believe someone got a photo of her catching leaves in her beak?”
“Mm-hm.”
“And the Bix phoenix is amazing, too. Still giving Tanya a load of trouble, but honestly? I’m impressed at how crafty he’s been. Tanya and I have both put our heads together on this one, and we haven’t figured out how to plug that hole. Tanya thinks that if we try blocking the entrance with metal sheeting—”
Connor sipped his wine with a muffled sound, something between a scoff and a laugh.
“Oh.” Aila turned quiet. Meek. “Sorry. Was I talking too much? I get like that when…” She studied her glass. “When I’m excited.”
“No, no, it’s just…” He chuckled. “You want to talk about work ? When we’ve been there all day?”
Of course she did. Aila could talk about her animals all night and still be eager to see them again in the morning, bright and early before the sun rose. She dropped her hands beneath the table and fidgeted with her dress, nerves returning in full force as she thought back to every time she’d single-handedly turned a date to disaster by talking too much or too little.
People always said to be yourself. But Aila’s self was awkward, obnoxious. If she could figure out what Connor wanted her to be instead, maybe she stood a chance.
“What do you do outside of work?” she asked.
Skies and seas, Connor looked gorgeous when he smiled, when he stilled, even when he turned a bashful gaze to the wine swirling in his glass. Why couldn’t Aila pull off cute awkward? All she ever managed was awkward awkward.
“You’ll probably think it’s silly,” Connor said. “Past couple of years, I’ve been poking into stock trading.”
Aila fought her brain’s immediate attempt to tune out. Like a slap on the hand. Bad, Aila. Pay attention. “That sounds… cool?”
“A grind is what it is.” Another laugh, this one strained. “My dad used to be into it. Wasn’t any good, mind you, but the hobby bled over. Most of the safe trades are in tech these days, microchip companies and those new tidal energy generators.”
“Mm-hm.” Now came Aila’s turn to frown.
“The real fun is picking out riskier stocks. Magical creature goods go up and down like crazy, with seasonal supply and shifting regulations. Restaurant industry’s great as well.”
Aila floundered for the lifeline. “Oh! Restaurants? My family owns a place nearby, the Macbhairan Pub and Tequileria. Have you heard of it?”
“That little hole in the wall? Yeah, I think I’ve walked past.”
Connor’s laugh hit the wrong pitch—a little too far from jest, too close to mockery.
Aila tried to laugh with him, but the sound came out hollow. Her parents put their lives into that restaurant. They worked as hard as she did, slaving over grills and tables rather than concrete exhibits, all their savings gone toward putting her through college. The pub wasn’t fancy, but it was home. People loved it.
She ought to be able to laugh at a harmless joke.
That, or find the spine to tell Connor he’d misspoken, give him the chance to explain he hadn’t meant any offense.
She couldn’t. Aila didn’t know the right answer, feared one wrong word would careen this date onto even rockier territory. She bit her tongue until it ached. Her fingers clamped into her scratchy dress beneath the table.
Their food arrived to save her. Aila dug into a plate of lemony shrimp and pasta, thankful for the distraction, berating herself for overreacting. Connor talked as they ate. Investments he was excited for. Other fancy restaurants he’d tried. A couple of nonfiction books she’d never heard of. Aila tried to stay attentive, tried to nod and express interest at the appropriate times.
“Is everything all right?” Connor asked.
“Of course.” Aila stirred her pasta. “Fine. Go on.”
“You’re super quiet.”
“Yeah. I am sometimes.”
Connor deflated, studying her with probing eyes—like a keeper studied a troublesome animal. They all did it. Easy to recognize.
“I’m sorry, Aila. I must have said something wrong. First date nerves and all that.”
He spoke so soft, so genuine, that handsome brow shriveled into concern.
All because of her.
Aila’s nerves flared to full-blown panic. She was the one who talked too much about work. She shut down when he shared his interests. Now, she’d made Connor feel guilty, which made her feel guilty, which made the whole room spin a little and… Why was this place so stuffy? They could afford fancy menus but not airflow?
“Are you excited for the phoenix transfer?” Connor asked. “Have they scheduled a date?”
Aila forced down the too-large forkful of pasta she’d stuffed into her mouth. “Yeah. Well, nothing definite yet. Spring most likely.”
“What else do you need to get ready?”
“Oh, you know. Just a couple things. No big deal.”
Aila was a lost cause. A dead battery. A popped balloon, all her air gone, no clue how to get it back as she slumped deeper into her padded chair.
Connor’s words tipped even softer. “You’re still worrying about work?”
That was an easier topic than all the noise in Aila’s head.
“I guess,” she peeped. “I know I should be happy about the phoenix transfer. And I am. So incredibly happy, and fortunate. It’s just…”
She hadn’t said the next part to anyone. Hints to Tanya, of course, but nothing so blunt, so vulnerable. Everyone kept telling her not to worry, but Aila was worried.
“It’s a huge responsibility,” she blurted. “I’m nervous. And scared for how the introduction will go. I’ve been working toward this all my life, and I know I’ll put my all into it. I just hope that will be enough. That I’ll be enough. You know?”
Connor reached across the table and laid his hand on hers. It was warm, a slow brush of his thumb urging calm as she tensed like a spooked mouse.
Then came that grin. That easy head shake. “You’ll be fine , Aila. You worry too much.”
Of course she did. She always did. Aila nodded and dropped her eyes to her food, stomach tied in too many knots for an appetite, thankful when Connor picked up the conversation on his own again.
She soldiered through dessert: a cake drowning in caramel and a puff of whipped cream, normally one of her favorites, now cloying on her tongue. Connor kept talking—another cup of coffee, another dive into some obscure tech start-up she’d never heard of.
Aila nodded along. She tried to keep her eyes from drooping, tried to excuse herself three times before she finally got the words out. Connor protested, proposing a walk on the pier, but she was full. Tired. A long day of work ahead of her.
Aila had every excuse ready to go.
Outside, Connor bid her goodnight with another kiss, longer than the first. She pressed into it, waiting for that tingle of excitement. The fireworks that never came.
Aila took the train home.
She climbed the stairs to her apartment on leaden feet, shoes pinching her toes.
Tourmaline greeted her at the door. The carbuncle spun circles around her legs, smelling every city aroma she’d brought home. Aila scratched his ears. Slipped off her flats. Sprawled on her bed and stared at the ceiling, dissecting the latticework shadows of spider plant tendrils cast from the window. Even in the quiet, the dark, her stomach wouldn’t stop churning.
Tonight was supposed to be perfect.
It wasn’t.