“Are you blushing?”
“I’m not blushing. Fuck off.”
“Oh my God, you are. It’s cute.” I reach over and touch his cheek, unable to stop a grin. His face feels hot. He’s definitely flushed.
We go quiet for a long moment. I catch him stealing glances at me, but whenever I look over, he quickly looks away.
“You’re being weird,” I accuse.
Gray sighs. “I like you.”
“You do?” My own cheeks get hot. This feels so sweet and wholesome. Like my first crush in Ward Z.
A note of embarrassment creeps into his husky voice. “Yeah. I like you a lot.”
“Stop it,” I say, ducking my head. “You’re going to make me blush, too. We’re too old for that.”
He snickers. But there’s a pained look in his eyes. “I don’t like this.”
“What?”
“Having a crush.” He curses under his breath. “It’s pathetic. I’m Grayson Blake. I don’t get crushes on women. I fuck them. I make them come.”
“Oh, you poor baby.”
Laughing, I shift closer and rest my head on his shoulder. Ribbons of warmth unfurl inside me. The notion that he has a crush on me brings a lightness to my chest.
I tip my head at him, about to ask another question, when he groans, “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you want me to kiss you.”
“I do want you to kiss me.”
Another strangled groan slips out. “Soon. I don’t want you to miss it.”
“Miss what?”
He gently moves my head back toward the lagoon. “Just keep watching. Trust me.”
I lean forward a little to get a better view of the water. It feels jarring to just be hanging there in the sky, as if kept in place by an invisible anchor. The hum of the hovercraft is so soft it doesn’t even feel like the engines are running.
Then I see it. It’s barely discernible at first. It starts as a flicker, a subtle shimmer beneath the water’s surface. I think it’s a trick of the light, but then I see it again.
And again.
And suddenly, the water comes alive.
Right in front of my wide eyes, thousands of white glowing orbs emerge from the water. At first, I think they’re flying, like some alien species rising from the depths of the earth, but then I realize they’re jumping. Shooting up like tiny fireworks exploding out of the water, flitting two, three, even five feet in the air, creating a cascading effect.
When I turn to Gray with my jaw agape, he smiles and says, “Moonfish. They come out every night. This is when they feed.”
“What are they feeding on?”
“Insects. Mosquitoes. Whatever’s down there. One of our scientists was telling me about it once. She said—”
“She?” I cut in.
