Page 193
"My—" I start.
"It was already thin."
I gasp. "My filter?"
He gives me a look. "Don't."
I laugh. "You really do enjoy disagreeing with me."
"Occasionally."
"There it is."
He frowns. "What."
My smile grows. "You admitted it. Now I have proof." He exhales quietly through his nose. "You'll survive."
"I've figured something out." I call out.
"...Have you."
"You're secretly eighty." He doesn't react. "You move like you're thirty." Silence. "You complain like you're sixty." Still nothing. "And you look at everyone as though they've interrupted something important." A beat. "So I averaged it."
For one perfect second nothing happens. Then— A laugh escapes him. Low. Warm. Real. Not loud. Not restrained enough to hide. The sound catches me completely off guard.
I stop walking. He doesn't notice immediately. He's still looking ahead, the ghost of that laugh lingering in the evening air. Then he realizes I've stopped. Turns. "...What." I simply stare at him. He frowns slightly. "Vaelith."
"You laughed." I stare.
"No."
"You did."
"I exhaled."
"It had joy."
"I disagree."
I can't help it. I laugh. A real one. He watches me with an expression that almost looks amused. The last light of the setting sun catches his face. And for the first time...I clearly notice them. Dimples. Tiny. Only visible because he let himself laugh. Gods. That seems unfair. Entirely unfair. I must stare a fraction too long. Because one eyebrow slowly rises. "What."
I blink. "Nothing." My stomach does something entirely inappropriate.
"Liar."
"I..." I shake my head. "You have dimples."
Silence. He looks genuinely confused. Then, after a long pause— "Classified." I burst out laughing. He shakes his head once. "Don't get used to it."
"I wasn't planning on it."
"Good."
We start walking again. Neither of us says another word. Somehow the silence doesn't feel empty anymore.
By the time we return no one asks where we've been. Caelen takes one look at me. Then at Rhyven. Then back at me. "Better?"
I sigh dramatically. "Unfortunately."
