Page 29 of Sparrow

And I would be stupid to let myself want something that’s going to be gone tomorrow. The day after.

Stupid to let myself feel anything for a girl who isn’t mine, and never will be.

Orion

Igo to bed without dinner, and by midnight I’m tired of tossing and turning, my stomach rumbling in protest and my brain refusing to simmer down. I know myself well enough to know that if I’m not asleep yet, I’m not going to get there, and throw the covers off.

I could stay here and read a book. Design my next project. Do some of the business chores Mars is generally too busy for.

But where’s the fun in that?

I scoot out of bed, pull on jeans and a t-shirt, and then find my boots, which I pick up and tuck under my arm. I don’t particularly want anyone knowing I’m going out, and I learned a long time ago that this floor has more creaks than a ninety-year-old man. If I’m barefoot, I have a better chance of avoiding them.

I creep through the dark house with my lip in my teeth, trying to remember all the places with loose boards and creaks, and manage to get to the front door without hitting anything. There I pull on my jacket and reach out of the knob, turning it slowly, silently, to release me from the house.

Once I’m on the porch I grin to myself and put on my boots. A quick run and I’m next to my bike, and I flip the kickstand up, put the thing in neutral, and push it toward the street. Mars is a heavy sleeper and won’t wake up for engine noise–I know this from experience–but I don’t know Arden’s sleeping habits, and the last thing I need right now is for that girl to wake up and come ask me what I’m doing, with her big eyes and upturned nose. That habit of looking right through me when I’m just trying to get some dinner.

That ability to freeze me in place at the drop of a hat.

I get to the road, get on my bike, and fire it up. Yes, I’m still very close to the house, but I suddenly don’t care. I need to be out there on the road, the wind on my face and darkness closing in around me.

Because I don’t like the things I’m thinking, and I need the bright, clear chill of the April night to wipe my mind clean and let me breathe for as long as I can stay out here.

This time when I return to the house it’s dark and quiet, the lights long since extinguished and, I hope, both residents soundly asleep. I don’t need the hassle of Mars being awake and asking me where I’ve been, and I don’t want the complication of Arden thinking this is the ideal time for us to get to know each other. Behind me, the sun is reaching its fingers toward the skyline, though dawn is still a whisper of promise rather than a real event. I turn my eyes in that direction and see shades of gray and pink rather than any real light.

We still have half an hour, at least, before the sun comes up.

Plenty of time for me to get into my room and lock the door against any of Mars’ early-morning ideas.

As I creep up the steps to the porch, though, I hear a squeak from my right and turn in that direction.

Arden is sitting on the porch swing, bundled in a blanket and holding two cups of something. Her eyes are still covered in shadow but I can see a glimmer there, and her mouth twitches in humor.

“Morning,” she murmurs.

“Morning?” I mutter. “It’s not, yet, in case you hadn’t noticed. Still dark outside. That means it’s still night.”

She tips her head. “And yet the clock has turned to the AM portion of the day, which means it’s morning.”

Great.

She uses logic as a weapon.

Just like Mars.

“Still dark,” I argue. “Still last night. And you should still be in bed. Why are you even up?”

She shrugs. “Heard you leave. Wondered where you were going. And whether you’d be back.”

That one stops me in my tracks, a truth that no one in this town has ever said out loud before. Hell, I don’t think anyone else has even guessed at it.

How the fuck did this girl come up with it so fast?

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Another shrug, touched by a quick smile. “Nothing. Want some hot chocolate?”

My eyes drop to the mugs in her hands and I remember that she has two, not one. She didn’t come out here to drink hot chocolate on her own. She came expecting company.