Page 195 of Nyx

No one has a care in the world.

The man I was before would be annoyed at the sight of so many skilled people doing nothing more than talking, eating, and celebrating life in general rather than doing something well within their power to help people who were suffering.

I almost let those feelings seep inside of me, despite knowing that to stay sane, everyone needs a break from witnessing the atrocities in the world. I don't fault anyone for the breaks required to do our job well, but just standing here when I could be doing something seems like a waste of good time.

Then I spot her across the room.

She's more beautiful than I've ever seen her, even though nothing dramatic has changed about her appearance.

It's the lightness in her shoulders, the way she grins at Misty as she flips her hair off her shoulder mid-conversation.

There's an airiness to her movements, a lightness in her steps when she moves to grab her drink from the small table against the wall.

I'm not so egotistical as to think that what we shared last night created the newer woman I'm watching, but a part of me hopes it was a contributing factor.

I almost look away when she glances in my direction, not wanting her to think I'm stalking her.

She grins at me rather than darting her eyes in a different direction, words still falling from her delicate lips as she continues her conversation.

I've been in the room for the better part of an hour, and this is the first time we've locked eyes, but other than disappearing when I came inside before my shower, I don't get the vibe that she's avoiding me.

I don't go to her because I don't want her to feel like I need an explanation or any kind of comfort after what happened last night. I don't expect assurances or even a conversation about it, but I do want to know that she isn't regretting what happened.

Regret means I would've done something wrong, misread her body language, or taken things too far after missing a cue from her to stop.

She glances away for the briefest of seconds before turning her eyes right back to me. Her smile changes, her face softening, and I witness her real smile, not the fake one I've seen her give others. Her cheeks turn the slightest shade of pink, and it makes me curious what she might be thinking about or remembering from our time together.

She glances away, looking around as if trying to determine whether others are watching us and making assumptions.

I follow her line of sight when her mouth freezes mid-conversation with Misty.

Kincaid is standing across the room, his eyes going from her right to me, and I don't know how to gauge the wide smile that covers his face for a few seconds before he turns to speak with Hound.

I glance back at her to see her dip her head slightly, turning her eyes back up to meet mine.

I wink at her, feeling like I'm walking on air, when she grins back at me before turning her full attention back to Misty.

We seem fine. Whatever issues I conjured up in my head seem not to exist.

Since I know we'll get a chance to talk eventually, I focus on making a plate of food and standing off to the side to eat.

The kids are at the kitchen tables, and although I don't mind being around kids, that little boy, Dean, watches me like he's terrified I'm going to rip his ears off, and I don't see the point in ruining their meal just by being there.

"Did you get the potato salad?" Thumper asks as he walks up, a frown on his face when he looks down at my plate.

"I ate it first," I assure him, chuckling when his whole demeanor changes at my words.

"It's the best stuff," he says, turning to face the room at my side. "I may have to get more. Just waiting for everyone else to eat first."

"I got the last of it," I tell him. "Scraped the bowl."

He laughs again and shakes his head. "Em never puts all of it out at once. There's more."

"You sure about that?" I tease, feeling a little foolish when he turns to look at me like I've grown a second head or something.

"You seem different," he says, because the man just can't leave well enough alone.

"I'm just me," I argue, but I know I have to seem different to many of them.