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“For what?” she asks, confused.
“For not giving you the opportunity to be yourself, to be heard. I’ve kept you safe, but at what cost? You’ve been living in the shadows for too long, like a prisoner, and it’s my fault.”
“It’s not just you,” she says softly, her thumb rubbing over the back of my hand. “It’s me too. I’ve allowed myself to be sheltered because it felt safe. But I don’t want to live like that anymore.”
“I don’t want you to either,” I reply, squeezing her hand.
“Thank you,” she whispers, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “That actually means a lot to me, even if it’s not possible.”
There’sthe elephant in the room: She wants to live, but we have to kill her. It’s a checkmate situation.
I grimace. “I guess we should talk about that.”
She shakes her head, looking sad. “I know we need to, and that I’ve been pestering you for answers, but I don’t want to spoil tonight. Call me naive, but I’d like one night of living in denial, if you can give me that.”
“I can give you that,” I vow. It’s a fantasy. One night of pretending. If she wants to be normal, then this can be a date. Fuck it. I think I need this as much as she does.
So we spend the rest of the night enjoying great food, deep in conversation, with Malia opening up about her fears and dreams, and me regaling her with funny anecdotes of my time in her world with the guys, and the severe learning curve we went through back in the beginning. Her giggles cause a weight to lift from my shoulders and I find myself smiling more than I have in years.
As we leave the restaurant and make our way back to the car, I can’t help but feel a sense of contentment settle over me. For the first time in a long while, I feel like maybe, just maybe, this is what happiness could look and feel like. If my plan works, maybe we could find a way to coexist in this world without the constant fear of being hunted or the pressure of fulfilling our roles as leaders of the Queen’s Guard.
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
As we drive back to the cabin, my mind wanders to the possibilities of what our imaginary future could hold. I can’t help but think of Malia in a different light, seeing her not just as the fragile girl I have to protect, but as a woman I could grow to love. The thought both thrills and terrifies me, but I know one thing for sure: I’m willing to take the risk if we make it out alive.
When we finally arrive back at the beach house, I walk Malia to her room and linger at the door, not wanting to say goodnight just yet. She turns to face me, her eyes locking onto mine, and I feel a rush of desire shoot through me. Without thinking, I lean in and press my lips to hers, savouring the softness of her mouth and the taste of her on my tongue. She responds eagerly, her hands coming up to grip my shirt as she deepens the kiss.
We break apart, panting and flushed, and I rest my forehead against hers. “Malia, I–” I start to apologise, but she cuts me off.
“Don’t say anything,” she whispers, her eyes shining. “Just kiss me again.”
And because I’m fucking weak, I oblige, capturing her lips in another searing kiss that leaves us both breathless. As we finally break apart, I know that there’s no going back from this moment, but that I’ve made a grave mistake. I’ve given her hope where there’s none to be had; we both bought into the fantasy a little too deeply tonight.
But in this moment, I can’t bring myself to regret it. Malia is like a flame, and I’ve been drawn to her from the moment I saw her. I know the dangers of pursuing anything with her, of giving her hope, but I can’t help but feel like it’s worth it. Worth the risk, worth the potential heartbreak.
She doesn’t know you have a plan. None of them do. It’s the hope that’ll destroy them.
I can’t clue them in. It has to be like this. It’s the only way. Because if I gave them hope and then it failed, it would kill them. I can’t be responsible for causing that kind of pain. I won’t. I love them too much to put them through that.
“We need to stop,” I tell her flatly, disappointment coursing through my veins, immediately dousing the flames she’s ignited in me.
“Goodnight, professor,” Malia whispers sadly, breaking the silence between us as she opens the door to her room.
“Goodnight, Miss Van der Zee,” I reply, watching as she disappears inside before turning and walking along to my own room.
As I lie in bed, staring up at the ceiling, I think about what this means for us. For our mission, for our safety, for everything we’ve been fighting for. But in the end, I know that I’m willing to take the risk. For Malia, for my brothers, and for myself. All for the possibility of something more. That’s all that matters. But they can’t know about it. That’s of paramount importance.
I’m so nervous about tonight’s party. I hope Bhodi likes it. I hope people come, and most importantly, that Summer turns up and we get the opportunity to talk.
After my weird night out with the professor, which felt so much like a date, but wasn’t, he surprised me the next morning by offering to help me with the party plans. Realising my mistake with the flyers but too embarrassed to ask the others, I readily accepted his offer, enjoying his seeming change of heart towards avoiding and ignoring me.
I’m glad he helped me prepare and fix some unintentional faux pas I had made, but I’m more glad that I got to spend time with him without us at each other’s throats. There haven’t been any more kisses, but there have been lingering looks, and – in my opinion at least – a lot of sexual tension.
Maybe that’s just me though. But I don’t think it is.
Either way, if it weren’t for our time spent together this week, tonight wouldn’t be possible.
Standing back, I admire our vision come to fruition. We’ve sectioned off a large part of the beach with tiki torches and an actual professional DJ is setting up over by the light-up dance floor that the professor insisted on hiring. He gave me the go-ahead to use his credit card for anything I wanted, but once he realised that I wasn’t actually spending any money, he took charge. Given that the party is supposed to be a ruse to draw Summer out, I’m surprised at how supportive he’s been and how much money he must have spent. All for a fake party, why?
