by Lila Felix
***
Arriving a little late had been my plan all along. I wanted to see her face. Her expression told me everything. I knew every crease, every dimple, every twitch of her eye and the definitions that went along with them.
So when I walked in and saw surprise, followed by concern, mark her face—it made me more worried than ever.
I placed the customary kisses on the temples of my mother, Ari, and Sable. Such was our custom. I never even knew why until Colby explained it to me when we were little. She told me the story with bright eyes and a bold smile—she loved the story of Xoana—a woman who, I imagined, had much of the same spirit as Colby. When Xoana had cursed her father to the heavens and was struck by the bolt of lightning, she was struck on her temple. So her father would kiss her temple daily as a symbol of his acceptance and awe of his greatly gifted daughter.
And so we greet our females with a kiss to the temple—honoring their gift.
“Theo,” Colby whispered with a pained expression before I kissed her.
“I will explain later.”
She nodded. I felt the motion against my hovering lips. Her smell was incredible—the perfect mix of woman and ocean. She always smelled of the ocean, no matter where she was. She could be hidden in Siberia and her hair would carry the memory of ocean to me through her scent.
I took my seat next to my mother. Colby and I did an excellent job of pretending everything was okay. The conversation centered on banal things, as nothing about what we were could ever be discussed in public.
“So, where have you been… doing business, Colby?” My father could make traveling sound like an exciting business trip.
I stabbed my chicken, pretending not to be hovering on the edge as I waited for her reply. I knew every place she’d been. But when the answer didn’t come immediately, I glanced up to find her gaze stuck on me. My face heated under her stare. To have her look at me again was priceless. I would travel in any condition, to any place, just to see her look at me.
“Colby.” Sable saved her daughter.
“Oh,” she said, breaking free from whatever she was thinking about. “I’ve been to Japan, lately.”
“And Finland,” I added.
She cocked her head at me with a squint. “Yes, and Finland. I love Olavinlinna in the fall. I sit on the top and pretend to be a Viking princess.”
That caused people at the table to chuckle as a whole. Colby had been reprimanded more times than I could count for traveling to Scandinavia with her craving for all things Viking. During her pre-teen years, she was obsessed with them. She read out-of-her-league Viking romances and studied their history with more gusto than she did our own. We’d go in her backyard and pretend to be Frey and Freya—or whatever couple she wanted to be at the time.
Our parents had always been privy to Colby and me and the love we shared. They’d encouraged our friendship when we were children with sleepovers and play dates. Then later, they’d done their damnedest to stop our sleepovers and knew that our dates were nothing even close to play.
She blushed at the attention and turned it on me.
“So, Theo, how is New Zealand?”
“It’s beautiful. It’s been interesting. I’ve learned a lot.”
She looked shocked. “But you’re not in school.”
I met her gaze with my own. “You don’t have to be in school to learn things, Colby.”
She shrugged. It was a habit of hers. Whenever she was perplexed about something or I’d bested her in an argument, she would shift into an attitude of ambiguity.
But I knew better.
“I need to go swimming,” Ari proclaimed.
“And we should get to bed early,” my parents followed.
They left the table one by one. I paid the bill after my father gestured in my direction before his departure.
Colby opened her mouth, leaned over the table to whisper something to me. “Not here,” I stopped her in her tracks.
“Okay.”
She made me wait that night. I didn’t grow impatient. I knew she’d come in her own time.
