Hi," I return, gesturing to the fish. "Nice catch."
"Yeah. I'm kind of impressed with myself. I always thought redheads were sexy."
"Ha-ha. I meant the fish."
"Ah. Yes.
This is impossible."
"This what?" I clutch the collar of his shirt in my fingers. His face is so close l study the varying color of his eyes.
For a long time, he says nothing. Stares at me in that way that makes me want to squirm. For a moment, it seems that his irises glow and the pupils shrink to slits. Then, he mutters, "A hunter in love with his prey
Tags: jacinda-will
This is the best thing I've ever eaten." He pauses for a drink, staring at me over the rim of his glass of juice.
" It's the provolone," I say, swallowing my last bite.
"It's the chef.
Tags: jacinda-will
He stiffens against me, pain written all over the mess of a face. He grabs my face in his hands. Holds me. "It's not over. We're not through, Jacinda." His eyes blister, glitter darkly.
"I'll find you. I will. We'll be together again.
Tags: will
Will sabía lo que era la soledad, entendía lo que era estar apartado del mundo en el que uno vive y ser un extraño entre tu propia gente. Will lo entendía. Will me entendía.
Sophie JordanI once saw a show about an amputee who lost his leg and still feels it. He actually wakes up at night to scratch his leg as if it’s still there, attached to him. They call it a phantom limb.
I would be like that. A phantom draki, tormented with the memory of what I once was.
Tags: will jacinda holding-on-to-your-identity
I won’t let him retreat from me. We’ve come too far. I’ll fight for us even if it’s him I have to fight.
Sophie JordanTags: holding-on jacinda
Then again, there’s nothing simple about Will. I think back to what he can do—bend earth, resist shading, his immense strength—and it’s glaringly inaccurate to consider him a human. But then I can’t think of him as a draki either. And this strikes me as sad. Will doesn’t belong anywhere. Not among humans. Not among draki.
But he belongs with me. The conviction is still there, as senseless and dangerous as always, seeping into my bones, my heart. A fact I wouldn’t change even if I could.
Air struggles up my throat and past my lips as Mom talks with our new landlady. Even with the air conditioner working at full blast, the air is thin, dry, and empty. I imagine this is how it feels for someone with asthma, this constant fight for breath. As if you can't ever fill your lungs with enough air. I glare at Mom. Of all the places in the world to relocate, she had to choose a desert. I'm certain she's a sadist.
Sophie JordanBefore I sought truth. Now I seek justice.
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