Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty
Aila posed with Carmesi for a photo. The little girl giggled at her side while her mother lined up the shot on her phone. After a huge thank you, the future zookeeper disappeared into the crowd, swinging her mother’s arm, gushing about which science classes she wanted to take.
Aila felt the need to pinch herself.
Luciana did it for her, a teasing poke at Aila’s arm. Festival lights glittered in her eyes like stars. The proud curve of her lips left Aila simmering.
They lingered in the plaza for another half hour.
If someone told last year’s Aila she’d survive this long at a keeper talk, she’d have laughed her ass off, then gone back to hiding in a back exhibit. Now, her departure from the festivities almost seemed too soon. Almost. Aila’s arm ached beneath Carmesi’s weight. Luciana led their exit, parting the crowd for Aila and the phoenix.
“That’s all for tonight,” Luciana told the dispersing visitors. “Thank you for supporting the San Tamculo Zoo, and be sure to stop by the phoenix exhibit the next time you visit!”
Once they escaped the plaza, the smells of roasting chilis faded. Laughter and music dimmed to a background hum, replaced by crickets and the tap of Luciana’s boots. Night-shrouded pathways soothed a brewing headache—too much social exertion for one night.
Totally worth it.
Now, Aila looked forward to hunkering down for the evening, snagging more food and a quiet place to enjoy it. She might stop by the craft table if the crowd thinned. Maybe say hello to the other griffin show keepers, thank them again for helping with the renovations.
“Your dad seems nice,” Luciana said, soft.
“He does?” Aila peeped. “I mean, he is . Very outgoing. Both my parents are, I’m the weird one. And he always remembers faces, so if you ever stop by the restaurant, I’m ninety percent sure you’ll get free drinks at least.” She shrugged. “You know how dads are.”
Luciana gave a low laugh. “I’ll take your word for it.”
Griffin shit.
Too late, Aila recalled what little Luciana had shared about her family: sparse comments about growing up with just her mom…
“I’m so sorry!” she said, panic speeding her words. “I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s fine.” Luciana waved a hand. “The standard deadbeat nonsense—left when I was a toddler. I hardly remember him.”
She sounded as poised as ever, as calm as ever. As good at hiding things as ever. Fathomless as the sea beneath a placid surface.
And just as breathtaking, the pathway lights glinting off every sable curl.
“So… what does your mom think of you being a zookeeper?” Aila asked, desperate to salvage some scrap metal from this car wreck.
“A little confused,” Luciana admitted with a smirk. “But supportive. I’m the first in my family to make it through college.”
“Hey.” Aila smiled back. “Me too.”
Luciana held out a fist. Aila bumped it, careful not to disturb Carmesi on her other arm.
“She usually comes to stuff like this,” Luciana said. “Couldn’t get off work tonight.”
“I’m sure she’s super proud.”
“Yeah.” Another grin, softer. “She is.”
They reached the aviary. Moonlight danced in glass panes, slanting silver through the olive trees as Aila released Carmesi to the exhibit. He flew to Rubra’s side, where the pair exchanged muted clucks. Lovebirds. The sight never got old.
Inside, the lights in the keeper building had shut off, just a computer screen glowing in one corner. Moonbeams trickled through the window. Aila tossed her glove to the counter, then sat atop the cool metal surface, enjoying the quiet. Enjoying what the year had brought.
Luciana swatted her shoulder.
Aila swatted back. “What’s that for?”
“Look at you! I’ve never seen you smile so wide!”
It did, in fact, hurt. Aila’s cheek muscles weren’t used to this exertion. “I’ll admit, the whole demonstration wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”
Self-conscious, Aila shrank, drawing her legs up onto the counter. She startled when Luciana slid beside her, a bump of elbows cracking her shell.
“You were fantastic , Aila.”
That smile again—a weapon, painted in ruby.
“It was fun,” Aila admitted. “Even if some of the questions were weird.”
“They always are.”
“Like, that one about phoenixes using their tail fire for propulsion? How do people come up with that nonsense?”
Luciana laughed. “That’s half the fun of talking to the public. You never know what you’ll get.”
“And that little girl.”
“Adorable. I think you made a good impression.”
“Maybe. I wish I’d had a zookeeper to talk to when I was that age.”
Luciana nudged her arm. “That’s the point, you dork. You can be that person.”
Aila uncurled, coaxed like a snail with a strawberry dangled in front of her. Luciana leaned against the counter, a brush of heat off her arm. Mango drifting off her hair.
Usually, this was the time of night Aila sought solitude like a covetous hermit crab, the mere thought of company enough to send her head throbbing. People (even people she liked) took energy, draining her battery until she had to retreat to recharge. Even her beloved Tanya recognized when to send Aila off to a warm blanket and a quiet apartment.
This easy feeling, Aila wasn’t used to. A person seated beside her without drain, without demand. Luciana’s smile was energizing. One look, and Aila’s grin refused to fade.
“Thanks… Luc.”
The name was a firebrand on Aila’s tongue. Sweet like honey. Even sweeter: the pleased curl of Luciana’s lips, catching the words like a secret whispered to the dark.
They ought to head back to the festival. Neither of them made the first move to leave.
Aila wasn’t sure how to act in moments like this. Quiet? Earnest? She tried to make the words come out right. “I never dreamed I could stand in front of a crowd like I did tonight.”
“You’re the one who did it,” Luciana countered. “Not me.”
“But you helped me step outside my cranky little shell. I owe you.”
“You don’t owe me anything.” Luciana dropped her eyes and tapped crimson nails against the counter, a fidget Aila wasn’t used to. “I’m grateful, too.”
Aila’s brows rocketed upward. The griffin show witch, proud and perfect Luciana, acting self-conscious? Maybe Aila had slipped in the kelpie exhibit months ago and hit her head. All this would make more sense as a hallucination.
“Grateful?” she asked.
“It’s been a hard few months. Ever since Nimit…” Luciana paused. The scrunch to her brow didn’t belong.
Aila wanted nothing more than to reach out and brush her thumb over that soft skin.
Panic jolted through her. Another night, nerves would have sent her fleeing. Now, her hammering heartbeat rooted her in place, unwilling to break this moment between them.
“But working with you and Tanya,” Luciana said, “it’s been nice. I… uh…” She chuckled. “Was nervous at first. I knew how you felt about me. Tanya and I used to be OK, but I assumed she’d take your side. I thought the two of you were going to hate me.”
“To be fair, we did.” Smooth, Aila.
Luciana rolled her eyes. “You came around.”
“So did you.” More than Aila could have imagined.
“Please. I’m not as bad as you made me out to be.”
“Are you kidding? In college, people fought in group chats over who’d get to be your partner for animal practicals.”
Luciana crossed her arms, a pout on her lips. “I heard about that.”
“The school newspaper interviewed you at least once a year.”
“Sure. That’s not—”
“Our outreach professor kept a recording of your final project as a class example.”
“I know, I know.” A defensive edge crept into Luciana’s voice. “To be honest? It’s all pretty… isolating.”
“ Isolating? ” Aila pictured Luciana basking in a teacher’s praise, trailing adoring fans, raising her arms to a packed amphitheater.
“Of course. People expect you to be perfect all the time, successful all the time. You stop being a person to them. Instead, you’re just something shiny on a pedestal.”
Exactly how Aila had treated her. For years .
“But then,” Luciana went on, “you feel like everyone is always watching you. Judging you. Like all it will take is one small mistake and…”
“And you’ll let everyone down,” Aila finished, a whisper in the dark.
“Yeah. That.”
Luciana hunched into herself. Shrinking. Vulnerable. Aila knew the feeling, yet seeing the shell on another person was baffling.
“I never realized.” Aila floundered for something to break the tension. She dared to poke Luciana’s arm. “For the record? I like human Luciana better than pedestal Luciana.”
That got a low chuckle. Success.
“The griffin show is great,” Luciana said. “But nights like these are my favorite. Talking to people. Spending time with the animals.”
Aila could tell. That smile was infectious. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re amazing on stage. But listening to you field the craziest phoenix questions? Watching you scratch Carmesi’s cheeks so good, he purrs? That’s… a side of you I never saw before.” A side she should have seen. Aila dropped to a murmur. “I’m sorry I was so mean all these years.”
“Not just you. We were both…” Luciana chewed her lip.
“Trapped in a cycle of bitchiness?”
“Sounds right.”
They shared a laugh as light as moonbeams, a dark room and a counter cool beneath Aila’s fingers. She didn’t recall leaning closer to Luciana, drawn in by the warmth of her skin. The unconquerable pull of a star.
“I wish we’d gotten off to a better start,” Luciana said, soft. “We had so many classes together in college. You should have said something.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? I was terrified of you. No matter how bad my crush was, I never could have—”
Aila clamped her mouth shut so fast, her teeth creaked.
Which, of course, drew more attention to the horrendous words she’d blurted. A stream of expletives screamed through her head. Maybe it was fine. Maybe she could salvage this. She risked a glance at Luciana, hoping the slip had gone by her.
Luciana’s eyes went wide as moons. “What did you say?”
“Nothing!”
“You had a crush on me in college?” Her brow furrowed. “ You? ”
“Shut uuup .” Aila dragged the word out, pleading. For Luciana to give her a break, or for some black hole to swallow her. She wasn’t picky. “It was a dumb little thing.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I’m me?” Nothing more needed to be said, but Aila went on. “I’m awkward. Shy. A complete disaster at ninety percent of social interactions, if we’re generous. Meanwhile, you’re confident. Accomplished and popular and…” Oh no. Here it comes. “Beautiful.”
Horns and fangs, Aila hadn’t even dived into the festival’s kelpie bog punch yet. Sober Aila, what are you doing?
Luciana held too still. She should have run away by now, should have drowned Aila with excuses to escape this awkward conversation.
Instead, Luciana leaned closer, pressing their arms together.
“I think you’re confident,” Luciana said, words soft on the lips Aila couldn’t stop staring at. “When you want to be. About things that matter to you.”
Aila didn’t know what thoughts were. “You don’t have to say that.”
“It’s true. And I think you’re…” Color warmed Luciana’s cheeks. “Cute.”
Absurd. Unfathomable. The prospect left Aila’s heart vibrating in her ribcage.
“You do not,” Aila said.
“Why would I lie about something like that?”
“I don’t know, because… Really?”
A few seconds drew out to eternity. Aila dragged her gaze away from Luciana’s lips, only to stumble into the greater hazard of her eyes—deep as ink in the dim light, veiled in thick lashes and bold red shadow. More frequent phoenix colors, since Luciana started working with them. Another detail Aila took too long to notice.
Slowly—so slowly, like braving a wild beast—Luciana raised her hand.
Something exploded inside Aila when Luciana brushed her temple.
“These frizzy things your hair does?” Luciana curled a strand around her finger. “I think they’re adorable.”
Aila’s panic hit full force, hot as lava through her veins, restless as a hundred thousand butterflies trying to flee her stomach.
At the same time: a stunning calm. Counter-intuitive. Like something settling inside her, the feeling of pieces clicking into place. A beautiful night. A quiet room.
Just the two of them.
“You and Connor.” Luciana toyed with Aila’s hair. “Are you… still a thing?”
“No.” A simple word, fizzling with anticipation.
“Good to know,” Luciana agreed.
In that moment, Aila only knew the sweet smell of mango. The enchantment of half-lidded lashes. The allure of full lips, cruelly parted. Achingly close.
Do it. Do it, you coward.
Aila might have liked some semblance of thought to drive the moment, perhaps a romantic observation or poetic reverie. Her deafening mental scream would have to do.
She tipped her head up and kissed Luciana.
Her lips were soft. Pliable. Willing in an instant, pressing back with an eagerness that made Aila’s head spin. The watermelon lip balm was unexpected, but pleasant. A veritable buffet of tropical fruits, this woman. Aila tasted her for one deep breath before reeling back for air. The sweetness lingered on her lips, Luciana watching through dark eyes, mouth parted for a low exhale.
Aila giggled, nervous.
“Was that… OK? I mean, for me, obviously it was OK. More than OK. It’s just that reading signals is weird, so I want to make sure I’m not—”
Luciana cupped Aila’s cheeks in light fingers. “Aila. You’re the biggest dork I’ve ever met.”
They laughed together.
Luciana kissed her again.
The warmth of those lips sank Aila to her core, like she could melt beneath the heat yet not bemoan the life of a puddle. She wound her hands into Luciana’s hair, the accomplishment of a life’s ambition. Flawless silk slipped between her fingers. This woman’s moisturizing routine was on a level beyond Aila’s comprehension.
All of this, beyond Aila’s comprehension.
She’d kissed other people before. Of course she had. But by the endless, merciful skies and seas, no one had ever brushed a thumb so soft along Aila’s jaw. No one had ever ghosted a tongue along her lip, light enough to make her forget how to breathe. No one had ever cupped a hand to the back of Aila’s neck, dragging her closer the way Luciana did, as if she was something to be relished, as if she was finally something to be fucking wanted .
Luciana shifted, standing to face the counter where Aila sat, towering over her with deepening kisses. This moment, theirs to indulge, theirs to draw out as long as the room lay quiet and dim around them, the crowds and festival booths out of sight and out of mind. Aila was already teetering on the edge of disintegration. Why not be a little daring? She brought up her legs up to hook around Luciana’s waist, pulling her closer.
Luciana paused. Smirked.
Then pushed Aila onto her back against the counter.
Aila gasped as the butterflies in her stomach stormed free, fluttering into every extremity. The surprise of it left her breathless. Left her heart pattering an entirely new rhythm. Aila had never been a top in her life. She was a meek, groveling little creature.
She’d not lament this woman crushing her into pieces.
They both stilled, Aila pinned on her back. Luciana leaned over her, letting her glossy black hair fall around Aila’s head. Her eyes were dark and deep like night sky as she bit her lip, brushing the errant curls from Aila’s temple with soft fingers.
“When do you want to head back?” she asked. “Someone will notice we’re missing.”
“Not yet,” Aila pleaded. “Just a little longer.”
Later, there’d be time for festival food. A cup or two of kelpie bog punch.
In this moment, Aila’s entire world was mango-scented hair. The press of warm lips as Luciana bent to kiss her again. Cool metal against her back.
And a flutter in her heart that told her this was, at last, what she’d wanted for so long.