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I nod and turn to him. My mouth brushes against his. He cups my chin and kisses me deeply, passionately. My pulse races, thrumming in my ears. I place my hands on his arms and squeeze. He flexes, and I run my palms up and down, feeling every ripple.
He pulls away and has a dazed look in his eyes. Clears his throat. “We came here to study.”
I try to catch my breath. Think straight. Can’t do either. I’m lost in his eyes.
Crash!
“What was that?” He looks around, his eyes wide.
I glance inside the dorm room. “Maybe something fell in there. It’d be hard to know for sure, though.”
He doesn't notice my teasing and leans over the railing. “Down there.”
“What?” I press next to him and look down. A crowd is gathered outside near the garden. Some people are shouting, but I can’t hear what they’re saying because we’re too high up. “Is it some kind of school function?”
“Nothing that I’m familiar with.” He leans more forward.
Out of habit, I reach for him, worried he’ll fall. He looks at me like I’m crazy. Of course he does. We’re in water. We could just swim down if we really wanted to. I’ll never get the land’s ways out of my mind.
“Can you tell what they’re doing?” I hope the question will distract him from my crazy grabbing.
He shakes his head. “I’d say they could be the drama club, but they do all their performances in the auditorium.”
“Maybe it’s some kind of practice. The pageant has us—”
“I think they’re shouting about your dad.”
“What?” I lean over the edge and strain to hear. Still can’t make out any words.
“See?” Bash leans forward. “They just said something about Tiberias. I think they’re protesting about your dad.”
I close my eyes and lean against the wall. Of course they are. Because people don’t have enough reason to hate me already.
Bash rests a hand on my shoulder. “You stay here. I’m going to see what’s going on.”
“I’m going with you.”
“That isn’t a good idea.”
“And why not?” I stare him down.
“Because you’re the daughter of the man they’re protesting against! I don’t want the crowd turning on you.”
“I’m not going to go into the middle of them. I just want to see what’s going on.”
“Then let me be your eyes.”
I shake my head. “No way. If you go, I go.”
He mutters something about me being stubborn.
“Twenty minutes ago, you said I was perfect. That me being opinionated is something you love about me.”
“Did you catch the part about me not wanting you to get hurt?”
“And did you catch the part about me using magic when I got frustrated in class yesterday?”
“Fine. Let’s swim down instead of going through the building.”
