Theea
there exists no mightier miracle than this:
I blink, caught a little off guard by the sudden offer Sohalia makes—but in the good kind of way, the kind that makes me laugh under my breath and try not to look as floored as I feel. "Seriously? That’d be… really nice," I say, quieter now, a little stunned by the kindness. My thumb rubs at the hem of my shirt. "Having a solid roof sounds like a nice change of pace. And I promise I’ll find a way to pitch in—cooking, cleaning, odd jobs, fixing things that only need a little breaking before they’re better."
I flash her a smile, grateful and just a little shy, before turning to Flora — who’s standing there like she owns the breeze itself. "Avoiding your exes like it’s a sport," I murmur dryly, amused. "Do I get points if I pretend not to see any of mine?" I pause. "Though... you’d have to have exes for that to work."
But the humor slips a bit when I follow her gaze.
Remi and Ronin.
My heart gives one of those ridiculous full-body thuds, like it’s trying to slam right through my ribs and escape into the ocean. I stare for a beat too long before tearing my eyes away and swallowing the nerves climbing up my throat. I have to remind myself that these are people. Real ones. Sure, legendary, straight out of the stories my mom told me all my life—but still people.
I fiddle with the hem of my shirt again, chin tipping up. I’ve made it this far. I’ll make it through an introduction.
"If I pass out mid-sentence," I say, glancing at the girls with a deadpan expression, "just tip me forward so it looks like I’m bowing. Maybe they’ll think it’s a rural cultural thing?"
I flash her a smile, grateful and just a little shy, before turning to Flora — who’s standing there like she owns the breeze itself. "Avoiding your exes like it’s a sport," I murmur dryly, amused. "Do I get points if I pretend not to see any of mine?" I pause. "Though... you’d have to have exes for that to work."
But the humor slips a bit when I follow her gaze.
Remi and Ronin.
My heart gives one of those ridiculous full-body thuds, like it’s trying to slam right through my ribs and escape into the ocean. I stare for a beat too long before tearing my eyes away and swallowing the nerves climbing up my throat. I have to remind myself that these are people. Real ones. Sure, legendary, straight out of the stories my mom told me all my life—but still people.
I fiddle with the hem of my shirt again, chin tipping up. I’ve made it this far. I’ll make it through an introduction.
"If I pass out mid-sentence," I say, glancing at the girls with a deadpan expression, "just tip me forward so it looks like I’m bowing. Maybe they’ll think it’s a rural cultural thing?"
to feel.
