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32
“Natasha?”
I squint. Nod. Lift a hand to ward off the glare and take a tentative step forward.
“Sorry about that,” the voice says. The next moment, the light dims and I lower my hand to my side. “Why don’t you come this way so I can properly introduce myself.”
I move toward the front of the room, careful to avoid an intricate replica of a carriage, the kind you see in movies set in historical times, when the voice says, “Oh, don’t mind the holograms. Feel free to walk right through them.”
“That’s a hologram?” I pause to gape at the apparition. “But it looks so real… So…3D.” I reach out to touch it, but before I can make contact, it vanishes.
“That one’s not quite ready. Soon, though.”
I look up to find a man standing before me, holding a clear tablet as thin as a credit card. Like Braxton’s phone, it’s at least several generations beyond those sold in stores. With a series of quick taps, the room empties out, leaving two folding chairs, a potted plant in the corner, and little else.
“I’m Hawke.” He tucks the tablet under his arm and offers a hand.
“Nat—Natasha,” I say, hoping he didn’t notice how I flubbed my own name.
“First day?” He turns and motions for me to follow.
“What gave it away, the green sweatshirt?” I frown at the hideous thing as I hurry to keep up.
“That, and the unmitigated look of sheer terror in your eyes.” He takes the seat on the left and gestures for me to take the other one.
“How long have you been here?” I ask. As he taps and scrolls on his tablet, I use the moment to study him in a way I won’t be able to once I truly have his attention.
His hair is the color of sand with a few blonder bits near the front. It’s sort of wavy and long, as though it’s been several months between cuts. And his white skin wears the sort of bronzed glow that has me wondering if somewhere around this cold and windy place there’s access to a tanning bed, a spray tan booth, or both.
At first sight, I’m tempted to peg him as one of those hoodie-wearing, twentysomething tech bros straight out of Silicon Valley. Except he wears a faded blue denim button-down instead of a hoodie, and his accent sounds more East Coast than Northern California.
When he slides his tablet under his leg and settles on me, I note that his eyes are blue, but not the same stormy blue as Braxton’s. Hawke’s are much lighter in tone, and his smile is quick and easy, displaying a slight gap between his front teeth.
“How long have I been here?” He adopts a thoughtful expression, tips his chair back, and peers at the ceiling as though the answer is written among the rows of canned lights. “Are you familiar with Einstein’s theory on time?”
I rub my lips together, worried the test has already begun.
“It’s all relative.” He grins, lowers the front legs of his chair, and enjoys a short burst of a laugh. “But, if you must know, my best guess would be seven years or so.”
“Your best guess?” I can’t help it—that’s a really weird way to answer. Like, who doesn’t know how long they’ve worked at a job or lived in a place?
“So, I take it you’re skipping ahead to the good stuff?” He regards me through a tilted-head, narrow-eyed gaze.
I shrug. Slouch lower in my seat. Then, realizing what a sloppy impression that makes, I straighten my spine, cross my legs primly, and say, “To be honest, I have no idea what I’m doing here.”
Hawke’s gaze pores over me, really taking me in but giving no hint as to what sort of conclusion he’s drawing. “Uh-huh. Uh-huh…” He reaches for his tablet again. “Let me ask you this—can you ride a horse?” He taps, scrolls, then waits for my reply.
Uhhh, what?I shake my head no.
“Any languages—good at accents?”
I glance between the tablet and him. “Um, two years of high school French?” My voice inadvertently lifts at the end, like I’m unsure and looking to him to confirm it. “Oh, and aside from a spot-on impression of the head cheerleader, no talent for accents.” It was a little shot at levity, but it’s met by dead silence, a few taps, and a long drawn-out scroll.
“What about acting abilities? Any roles in the school play—anything like that?”
Another no.What are these questions?
“Can you wield a sword? Ever take a fencing class?”
