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“It was.” The words tasted like the terrible half-rehydrated food he’d grown up eating.
Lar’a crossed her arms over the top of the barbell. “And he’s awfully old for you.”
“He is not.” Fal’ran’s head shot up with a glare.
“Please, kid,” Lar’a rolled her eyes. “His hair’s turning gray.”
“The fuck do I care about that?” Fal’ran’s anger propelled him a step forward, Lar’a’s dismissive tone riling him up. This was his friend? His friend spoke about him like this? “He’s strong and brilliant and you—”
The smell of Lar’a’s satisfaction stopped him. Half a second later, he registered the glint in her eye.
Fal’ran dropped the finger he hadn’t realized he’d jabbed in her face. “And you know that.”
“I do know that,” Lar’a agreed with a crooked grin, as she slipped under the barbell again. “There’s not a more loyal man in the sector. And none that could eat the shit he’s had dished out to him all his life and still come out smelling like roses.”
Fal’ran didn’t know what roses were, but they sounded nice.
“He’s as smart and strong as you say. A damn good soldier, a damn good man, and a damn good friend.” Lar’a continued through gritted teeth as she lifted the intense amount of weight. “He deserves someone who sees that.”
Fal’ran pointed at himself. “I see that.”
“I know you do.”
Fal’ran scowled as she racked her weight. “Do you?”
Lar’a chuckled and ducked out from under the barbell. “Well, I didn’t know it when I walked in here, but I know it now.”
Fal’ran raised an eyebrow. “So, I passed your little test?”
“You passed my test when I told you he didn’t want you and you smelled like you were gonna burst into tears.” Lar’a grinned in that way that was just on the friendly side of baring her teeth. “The rest was just to see how well you’d score.”
Fal’ran bit down on the argument that he had not been about to cry, refusing to rise to Lar’a’s bait like he might have once risen to Bar’in’s. “And how did I do?”
“Honestly?” Lar’a’s expression sobered into something genuine. “Flying colors. He means a lot to you, doesn’t he?”
Admitting a vulnerability didn’t come naturally to Fal’ran, and he looked down at his hands. He frowned when he saw he’d bloodied his knuckles worse than he’d thought.
“Here.” Lar’a passed him and pulled a cold pack from a cabinet.
“He does,” Fal’ran managed as he accepted the pack and pressed it across the red knuckles on his left hand. “Mean a lot to me.”
“And you mean a lot to him.” Lar’a leaned against the wall and crossed her arms. “I can see it in the way he looks at you. Smell it, too.”
“But if that’s true, why does he want to throw me back?” Fal’ran sat down heavily on the nearest weight bench.
“You know him.” Lar’a rolled her eyes. “Always so concerned about the ‘right’ thing.” She uncrossed her arms long enough to make quotes in the air.
Fal’ran frowned and moved the cold pack over to his right hand. “That’s one of his best qualities.”
“Sure, except when it makes him an idiot,” Lar’a scoffed. “When he’s all in his head about what’s right and what’s wrong and he doesn’t know up from down and he’s thinking stupid shit like maybe the love of his life doesn’t want to be with him.”
Fal’ran bit his lip and tried to keep his shocked and hopeful smell from spilling from his pores. “By the love of his life, you mean me?”
Lar’a gave him a blank look. “You’re both idiots.”
Fal’ran shook his head anyway. “No, look, I told him I wanted to be with him. Explicitly. I’ve made it very clear how I feel about him.”
“So, tell him again.” Lar’a shrugged both shoulders and gave him a look as though the words didn’t need to be said. “Don’t take no for an answer.”
