when I know what they can do.
“Like what?”
“School,” he says. “I was never good at math. Or science. Or anything, really. That’s why I dropped out.”
I gasp instinctively. “You dropped out of school?”
He chuckles. “There are more important things, you know. At least to some people.”
“I suppose,” I say tentatively. “So what’s important to you, then?”
The boy looks thoughtful for a moment. “Friends. Family.”
“That’s good,” I say, then immediately wonder why it matters to me that we share the same values. It’s not like I’ll ever see him again.
“And equality,” he says, then picks up his mug and takes a long sip. I wonder if that was supposed to be a stab at me. Surely he knows who I am, who my parents are? There’s no way a rebel mystic—or anyone from the Depths—could possibly support the Roses and the Fosters. We’ve been despised by mystics in the Depths for ages—not that we ever really minded, as long as things stayed the same.
I avert my eyes. He must find me despicable, with my wealth and good fortune. Which is disappointing because … because why? I glance back at him and I can hear my own heartbeat. Deep down, I know why. I just don’t want to admit it.
I like him .
My throat feels dry and scratchy. I’m engaged. I can’t like him. I don’t even know his name. Thomas’s face flashes before me: the richness of his eyes, the honey color of his skin. What am I doing here?
“Aria?”
I look up. “Yeah?”
“Are you okay?”
No! I want to yell, but it’s not his fault this conversation is the most comfortable one I’ve had in ages, that simply looking at him relaxes me. “Are you going to tell me your name?”
He scratches his head, confused, as though he’d been expecting a much more intense question. “Sure. It’s Hunter.”
I expect him to say more, but he doesn’t. “So … what else do I need to know about you? We’re practically strangers.”
Something about the question strikes a chord in him. The muscles around his mouth tense; his posture becomes rigid. The boy I’ve been talking to suddenly morphs into something harder, colder. He takes out his wallet, removing a few bills and placing them on the table. “No offense,” Hunter says, “but it’s best if things remain that way.”
Then he takes out his phone and punches a few buttons, texting someone.
“Seriously?” I’m confused by the sudden change in tone—one moment we’re laughing, the next he’s distant, leaving? “I was just attacked. You saved my life. We don’t have to be friends or anything, but you don’t have to be so … so …”
“Rude?” He looks up, the pure blue of his eyes still startling. “Look, Aria. You seem like a nice girl, but as long as you’re safe, my work is done. My friend Turk is coming to pick you up and take you home. Wait for him here.” He narrows his eyes. “Don’t come back here, okay? You’re safer in the Aeries. Where your sort belongs.”
He stands. Simply looking at him makes my heart beat faster. I want him to stay, but there is nothing that ties him to me. We really are strangers. The thought makes my insides ache.
“Goodbye, Aria,” he says, and though he’s determined, I can tell he’s pained.
I sit still, frozen with sadness. Even though he’s telling me goodbye, the way he says my name feels like the warmest hello I’ve ever received.
It’s only as he’s leaving that I see a tiny tattoo in the center of his left wrist.
In the shape of a starburst.
“Wait!” I slide out of the booth too quickly and fall onto the floor—and now everyone is looking right at me.
“Miss?” someone asks. “Are you okay?”
I get up, shake myself off, and hurry outside. I look around frantically but the streets are practically empty. How did I let him go again ?
I try to calm my breathing. I wasn’t hallucinating—there was a boy on my balcony last night, and it wasn’t someone who’d been invited
“Like what?”
“School,” he says. “I was never good at math. Or science. Or anything, really. That’s why I dropped out.”
I gasp instinctively. “You dropped out of school?”
He chuckles. “There are more important things, you know. At least to some people.”
“I suppose,” I say tentatively. “So what’s important to you, then?”
The boy looks thoughtful for a moment. “Friends. Family.”
“That’s good,” I say, then immediately wonder why it matters to me that we share the same values. It’s not like I’ll ever see him again.
“And equality,” he says, then picks up his mug and takes a long sip. I wonder if that was supposed to be a stab at me. Surely he knows who I am, who my parents are? There’s no way a rebel mystic—or anyone from the Depths—could possibly support the Roses and the Fosters. We’ve been despised by mystics in the Depths for ages—not that we ever really minded, as long as things stayed the same.
I avert my eyes. He must find me despicable, with my wealth and good fortune. Which is disappointing because … because why? I glance back at him and I can hear my own heartbeat. Deep down, I know why. I just don’t want to admit it.
I like him .
My throat feels dry and scratchy. I’m engaged. I can’t like him. I don’t even know his name. Thomas’s face flashes before me: the richness of his eyes, the honey color of his skin. What am I doing here?
“Aria?”
I look up. “Yeah?”
“Are you okay?”
No! I want to yell, but it’s not his fault this conversation is the most comfortable one I’ve had in ages, that simply looking at him relaxes me. “Are you going to tell me your name?”
He scratches his head, confused, as though he’d been expecting a much more intense question. “Sure. It’s Hunter.”
I expect him to say more, but he doesn’t. “So … what else do I need to know about you? We’re practically strangers.”
Something about the question strikes a chord in him. The muscles around his mouth tense; his posture becomes rigid. The boy I’ve been talking to suddenly morphs into something harder, colder. He takes out his wallet, removing a few bills and placing them on the table. “No offense,” Hunter says, “but it’s best if things remain that way.”
Then he takes out his phone and punches a few buttons, texting someone.
“Seriously?” I’m confused by the sudden change in tone—one moment we’re laughing, the next he’s distant, leaving? “I was just attacked. You saved my life. We don’t have to be friends or anything, but you don’t have to be so … so …”
“Rude?” He looks up, the pure blue of his eyes still startling. “Look, Aria. You seem like a nice girl, but as long as you’re safe, my work is done. My friend Turk is coming to pick you up and take you home. Wait for him here.” He narrows his eyes. “Don’t come back here, okay? You’re safer in the Aeries. Where your sort belongs.”
He stands. Simply looking at him makes my heart beat faster. I want him to stay, but there is nothing that ties him to me. We really are strangers. The thought makes my insides ache.
“Goodbye, Aria,” he says, and though he’s determined, I can tell he’s pained.
I sit still, frozen with sadness. Even though he’s telling me goodbye, the way he says my name feels like the warmest hello I’ve ever received.
It’s only as he’s leaving that I see a tiny tattoo in the center of his left wrist.
In the shape of a starburst.
“Wait!” I slide out of the booth too quickly and fall onto the floor—and now everyone is looking right at me.
“Miss?” someone asks. “Are you okay?”
I get up, shake myself off, and hurry outside. I look around frantically but the streets are practically empty. How did I let him go again ?
I try to calm my breathing. I wasn’t hallucinating—there was a boy on my balcony last night, and it wasn’t someone who’d been invited
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