Page 38 of A Match Made in Error

I push off the sand, walking the shoreline in loose, easy strides. I’ll give her space to cool off; I’m sure we’ll reset by tomorrow. This is not the first time she’s been annoyed at me, and it won’t be the last. Though it is the first time I’ve kissed her…and that stuff means a lot more to her than it does to me.

Down the beach, Angora and Erik walk hand-in-hand, perfectly composed. I slow—not tense, but also not eager to deal with her. My senses light up, soldier training allowing me to risk assess in the blink of an eye. She’s near the water, her hair catching the light as she laughs softly at something Erik has said. They look…comfortable.

I stop, watching out of instinct and not longing. Which is probably shocking considering the show I put on, but that wasn’t really because I want her. I think that stopped as soon as we were all matched. It just feels like something to prove. It’s weird, though, because once she would have pulled me in without question, at least physically, but now the allure is just…gone.

Sand moves beneath my feet as I drift over like it’s nothing. Angora notices me first, her smile sharpening.

“There he is,” she sings, giving in to Erik’s touch. She glances past me, looking for someone who isn’t there. “Did you lose her already?”

For some reason, I can’t bring myself to admit she stormed off, annoyed with me. “She went off to rest. Too much time in the sun.”

“Figured you’d be off to the hot spring.” I look down at the invisible entry sigil. Yeah, in another world with another woman, I definitely would be nude in a hot spring right about now.

“Yeah, well,” I shrug. “We have a whole month to do that.”

She tilts her head to the side, a smirk deepening as something seems to click. “I knew it.”

I huff out a laugh, feigning casual as something tightens in my core that she knows something I don’t. “That’s never a good start to a sentence.”

“You like her,” Angora says smugly.

“You’ve had worse theories.” Not untrue. She once thought faeries were coming into her house to steal her spoons. Why would they do that? They’d be way too big for them.

“No, I’m serious,” Angora pushes. “You always have.” She gestures vaguely, like pointing to Fate’s Fortune in the far-off distance. “Even before this. I saw the way you looked at her at the bar whenever someone flirted with her. You’d get so jealous.”

That’s annoying. Not because it’s true. But because—that’s just not how it was. I was just looking out for her. None of those losers at the bar deserved the time of day from her. I frown slightly, my fist tightening at my side.

“I don’t do jealous.” I can hear sharpness seeping into my words. I’m getting sick of having to say that all the time. Sensing growing tension, Erik steps forward, slightly in front of Angora now. Good for him, I guess.

“You don’t do commitment either.” Angora’s words are knowing and dismissive. “And yet, here you are.” She glances at the place Poppy and I had embraced in the trial. “All in.”

Now I’m annoyed. All in. That phrase lands wrong. I’m just playing this well. That’s all. It shouldn’t annoy me because it appears we’re being convincing, which is the whole point of faking it.

“Relax. It’s the Festival, not a fundamental personality shift,” Angora teases. Erik watches quietly. Looking grounded and solid and actually all in. The opposite of me. Now that’s the kind of man who settles down.

“Just don’t pretend you don’t care. You’ll mess it up, and you’re bad at faking feelings. Plus, it’s okay to let people in.” I want to snort. Little does she know, this whole thing is fooling everyone. “I did.” She smiles besottedly up at Erik.

“I don’t hold back.” I’m a very open and transparent son of a bitch.

Angora smirks. “You always did like rewriting history.”

I nod, a mirthless chuckle coming out without my consent. I suck in some air before saying, “Have a good night.” I don’t argue further, nor do I want to linger. The walk down the beach is quieter now, most of the couples are gone, but my thoughts are horrifically loud. Angora’s accusations and the kiss, then Poppy leaving, are swirling at a maddening speed in my mind.

I stop near the water, hands stuffed into my pockets, looking out across the sea but not really seeing anything.

We’re convincing others; that’s good, but it’s changing how people see me and my history. My history with Poppy. That’s going to be hard to walk back from once we leave here. Something I didn’t consider when I decided faking it was the best idea. I mean…we could have just stayed friends. We did that in the first Festival, and nothing bad happened. Fuck, I’m stupid. I really let a fragile ego rile me up, and now I’ve put Pop and me in a tough situation. Maybe that’s why Poppy is annoyed. She always did come to her senses faster than I did.

And Angora thinks I’m jealous? I allow myself to scoff now that she’s gone. It’s not my fault people mistake competence and manners for feelings.

For everyone’s sake, and the sake of our future friendship too, next time, we’ll keep it simple. Less convincing.

If that’s even possible. I am a charming son of a bitch after all, and we can’t drop the act fully. Not now.

I pick up a flat shell, running my fingers over the edge that’s been buffed smooth by years of the ocean waves thrashing against it. I throw it out, pushing my power to cast it far further than the average male could throw it. It drops into the water, and soon after, a kraken tentacle reaches up and shakes at me, like an old man angry at a child for throwing a ball into his yard.

Guess I shouldn’t do that again.

I look around the now-empty beach.