Page 93 of Stealing Embers
Not her usual posh style, but she doesn’t look bad, she looks . . . comfortable. I’m pretty sure it’s impossible for Nova to look anything less than crazy gorgeous at all times.
I’m three steps below her when she lifts her head and our eyes connect. Her green cat-eyes widen before they narrow to slits.
The crack from her pencil breaking in half echoes off the academy’s exterior walls and slaps me in the face.
Tipping whatever she was writing to her chest, she rises in a liquid motion and shifts away.
“Wait. Please.”
Nova’s hand pauses against the door. Her fingers curl against the grain as if she’s holding herself back from clawing at it . . . or maybe she’s imagining it’s me.
“Nova, let me . . .”
Let me what, explain? How can I explain when I don’t truly understand the issue? Maybe she simply needs reassurance that there’s nothing going on between me and Steel?
I finally worked up the nerve to ask Ash what the deal was between Nova and Steel, but her knowledge of their relationship was murky. Sterling was zero help—just recited some platitudes about the “heart wanting what it wants” and “fighting for love.” I’d really like those five minutes of my life back.
Only Greyson gave me any real insight into the situation. Steel and Nova have been close for years. He thinks they had something on-again, off-again a few years back, but as far as he knows nothing has been officially “on” for a while. It’s common knowledge that Nova is into Steel, but Greyson made a point to mention that Steel isn’t the type to broadcast his personal business, so the true nature of their relationship is anyone’s guess.
It sounds like a complicated situation to me, but I’m stunted when it comes to things like romance and relationships. Heck, basic social skills are a challenge for me most days. It feels like I’m going into this whole situation with Nova with one arm tied behind my back.
After several tense moments, Nova does an about-face and plants her fists on her hips, a thin notebook still clenched in her right hand. Her left hip juts to the side as her chin tips up. The stance is signature “Nova”, but her usual fire doesn’t reach her eyes. Behind the bravado, she looks worn out. “What do you want?”
“I want . . . to make sure you’re okay?” That wasn’t supposed to be a question.
“I’m peachy. Thanks.” Every word is drenched in sarcasm.
I have to crane my neck to maintain eye contact. Standing a few stairs below her, Nova now has at least a foot and a half of height on me. She’s at the perfect level to kick me in the face and send me tumbling down the hard and unforgiving marble steps.
I shift to the right and ascend to the top landing—just in case.
“Nova, I’m not sure exactly what’s going on here,” I admit honestly. “But I’d like to make it right.”
“Would you now?”
Isn’t that just what I said? “Um, yes?”
“And how exactly do you intend to do that?”
Good question. I’m too new to friendship to understand all the rules. Be honest, but not brutally so. Be sincere, but don’t let yourself be taken advantage of. Be accepting, but don’t be afraid to call someone out on their crap.
“Um. Are you upset about Steel?”
Her eyes flare and the fire that was absent from her gaze just moments before sparks to life. I want to tiptoe into this topic, but there’s not a great way to tackle the issue that doesn’t involve bluntness.
“There’s nothing going on between me and Steel. You know that Sable is making him hang around me. I’m pretty sure he’s at the point where he’d walk away from guard duty if he could. It’s wearing on both of us.”
If all this angst is stemming from her anxiety over Steel’s feelings toward her, I feel doubly bad for her. I’m not a relationship specialist by any stretch of the imagination, but whatever she has going on with Steel doesn’t seem healthy. Whether he is ignoring her feelings willfully, or due to ignorance doesn’t really matter. The point is the ambiguity in their relationship is causing her pain. I want better for her. If I was in her situation, I’d want better for myself as well.
“You’re unbelievable. Do you know that?”
“Um.” That was not meant as a compliment.
“Gosh.” With a humorless laugh and a shake of her head, she pirouettes back toward the door, ready to push it open. “Not everything in the world is about you.”
Wait . . . huh? Jerking back a step, I teeter on the top stair before righting myself and lurching forward. I snatch Nova’s designer coat-clad arm and whirl her around. “Nova, I’m sorry I don’t understand what—”
She rips out of my grasp. “You’re right, you don’t understand. Becauseyou’renot the one who’s been made a fool of. That would beme.” She points a finger at her chest and her lower lip wobbles before she bites down on it.