Chapter 34

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Falling in love is better with pizza.

"What…is going on?" Pollux asks as I return to the car with a Garden Pizza from Marco's.

I set the box in his lap, and to accommodate it he moves the angry bee he hasn't stopped clutching during the entire silent drive here. "Remember last week when I said we should get dinner sometime?" I ask.

He stares at the logo on the box. "I…recall."

"It is sometime. This is dinner."

Starting up my car again, I take us out of town, onto the highway, and to the nearest overlook. It's late, and cold, so the small parking lot is completely empty, leaving just us to peer at a vastness of mountains and navy black sky scattered with stars.

"Before I forget." I pull his phone out of the center console and pass it to him. "Ignore the text where I ask if you're okay because I forgot I had your phone."

His fingers close slowly around the case before his attention drags to me.

His deep, red-and-black eyes bore into me until my heart is skipping at an unusual beat. He says, "I'm sorry."

"What are you apologizing for now?"

"Making you worry. Being a hypocrite. Causing trouble for you." Sighing, he deflates. "I could go on."

"Or you could pass the pizza?"

He sets the box on the console between us, opens it, and fully floods the entire vehicle with the amazing, warm, garlicky scent. "I don't know how to express myself to you well enough, Kassandra. I don't know how to find the comfortable median between respecting your boundaries and indulging myself. You're right. I'm a hypocrite. I've spent my life trying to make myself more tolerable for people, and that has led me to isolation. I have no right to expect you to risk the things you care about when I don't take any chances either. In our own ways, we've put up barriers that protect others from what they might perceive as our unsavory sides. The only difference between us is that you still go outside with them, and I don't have the patience for that much exhaustion. It's supposed to be different with you, but I'm so used to being careful, it's hard to stop. And you have seen today what happens…what happens when I am not careful enough."

I definitely have.

And it's heartbreaking.

It's heartbreaking…and, yet, in some softer ways, it feels familiar.

Maybe I was never met with screaming as a child trying to fit in, but rejection comes in a lot of different forms. It all hurts. Whether it's a loud burst…or a consistent quiet.

"Humans have no natural defenses against what I am," he murmurs as he takes a slice of pizza. "Glamouring myself doesn't remove the effects entirely, but at least then they're more bearable. Your power, as it is unaware presently, surrounds you in a sphere. I don't have the ability to see where the radius ends, but I could feel the moment I made my mistake an instant before it caught up to me."

"Why has Meda been able to leave my bubble without any issues lately? I guess you were too much of a distraction for me to realize it, but she's been hanging out with the other kids without me around, and she never used to do that. Is it because she's younger or they've gotten used to her somehow?"

"Her necklace…" He clears his throat and takes a bite of his pizza. "…it's a charm. With your magic in it."

I pause halfway to bringing my own pizza slice to my lips. "I'm sorry. My what now?"

"I saw an opportunity, and I exploited it. The magic I pilfered is sufficient enough to create a bubble of protection around Meda and allow her the freedom I have not had."

Well. Okay then. I munch my pizza slice. "Can I give you more magic so you can make one for yourself?"

Pollux angles his body away from me.

Which, obviously, doesn't bode entirely well.

"Pollux…?"

"So. I may have gotten the magic from the tear you cried the day you came home with Meda and had dinner with us."

Magic tears. I'm a Disney princess. I blink. "Okay? So I'll cut some onions. Problem solved."

Shaking his head, he licks his lips and takes another bite. "Remember when you cried yourself to sleep last week?"

"Yes?"

"And then you came to see me, and you smelled like Castor?"

"Yep."

Pollux continues, "I may have abused your privacy to make sure Castor's scent wasn't in your bedroom or near your potentially magic tears. In doing so, I discovered that your pillow smelled perfectly normal. No magic."

"You went into my room and smelled my pillow."

He shrinks. "I am aware this is disturbing information, but I would like it noted that my sense of smell is better than a human's. I did not need to get remotely close to your pillow in order to learn that your tears were still there and not soaked in magic."

"How did you get in my room?"

"Closet."

Ah. Right. Of course.

"You can traverse by closet?" I ask.

His gaze darts toward me, then back to his food. "Boogeymen have a unique means of traveling the physical world. It is a skill I do not use very often anymore as I prefer to enter the dream plane directly, but it is similar to the faerie paths I described in your guide."

Ah, yes. The faerie paths known as trods that connect points in the human world without equaling the same distance. A five minute walk through a trod could amount to many miles traversed outside one. When I read that particular section in my fae folder, it revealed why Pollux asked me if I wanted to get decaffeinated coffee in Europe that one time.

The awkward mess was being immaculately sincere.

For him, it literally is just a pop across the pond.

I exhale and finish my first slice of pizza before retrieving another one. "Basically, you're not confident I can on-demand cry you some new magic for another charm."

"Correct."

"You've said before that hybrids don't have access to any of their magic, usually. Is it too soon for you to teach me how to intentionally reach mine since that doesn't seem to be the case with me? You don't have to tell me what I am or what I can do. Just…how to give enough to you."

"You trust me with the power that a dangerous faerie has already petitioned you for? Without even knowing the extent of its abilities, you would just hand it to me at whatever depth I ask?"

I plant a pretty little smile on my face. "I exist to provide comfort to those I care about. And, dang it all, Pollux—" I drop the smile. "—I've come to care about you. Of course I'm willing to do whatever it is I can to help."

In a mere moment, Pollux's face blocks out the scenery. His breath coasts across my lips, and my heart jumps at the sensation. He swears into my open mouth, an inch away from making contact. His forehead touches mine instead as he mutters another curse. "—promise." Pain ripples in his eyes. "I want you. So badly. But I can't act against the promise I made. May I claim you? Would you give me permission to claim you?"

I chill in spite of the heat in his gaze. "I…"

He drags himself back to his seat. "I understand."

"I'm sorry."

"It is not something you must apologize for."

"I just don't think I'm ready yet."

"I understand."

"Pollux."

He looks at me, and the way the dim light from the sky rains across his cheeks makes him look like a painting. A fantasy painting. He'd fit so snugly in one of Zahra's egregious dating games. No low-resting robes, though. Just plain shirtless.

Yup.

And now I fear my face matches his in shade. "Um…" I swallow, wet my lips, try to remember what good, innocent thoughts I was attempting to express before my brain took a raucous left.

"Um?" he prompts.

I stare fervently at my slice of pizza. "I like you."

"I know."

A nerve pinches, and I glare sidelong at him. "You know?"

"You've told me before, and I can smell it. You don't hate me anymore."

Oh yeah? He can smell the lack of hatred on me? Delightful. "Could you refrain from smelling me, please?"

"You don't want me to breathe?"

I think about that for a moment.

"Kassandra."

"Fine, no. Yes, you can breathe… I'll just have to figure out how to control my own scents, I guess. It's probably no harder than learning to smile correctly. Just need to find the right button that releases a tiny bit of hate from my pores now and again to keep my real feelings safe."

He chuckles. "If anyone could do that, I'm certain it would be you."

"I appreciate your support." I pick a tiny chunk of feta off my pizza. "I appreciate it…quite a lot actually."

"You are precious to me."

"I know."

Humor taints his voice, which is so much better than the regret that has laced it so far. "Can you smell it on me?"

I puff a laugh. "No." Gracious. I hope I never can. My eyes roll. "It's just obvious that you aren't very good at masking some things." Finishing up my slice, I wipe my hands on a napkin and shift in my seat. "Dreamboy?"

"Hm?" he mumbles around what might be his fourth slice.

"Can I talk to you without any strings or persuasion attached? I don't want advice. I just want to get some things out of my head."

"Would you like me to respond at all?"

"Maybe just enough that I know you're listening and aren't annoyed?"

"If ever I were annoyed with you, dearest, it would not come between me and how much I care about you. I would not make you guess at the origin of my irritation, either. We would discuss it, because your peace is important to me."

My heart responds to that, and I wouldn't be surprised if Pollux could hear it. It makes sense how he knows when I'm not being genuine if he can hear and smell the things I can't exactly control. All the same, being intentionally vulnerable is harder than being poorly plastic. "I appreciate that," I offer before I stare out the windshield, at the distance unrolled before us. It's similar to being in one of my dreams.

Empty and vast.

Almost safe enough and large enough to contain me without making me feel trapped.

I wonder if there's a reason behind why my dreams now are vacant. As a child, they used to be so full of people… But now, I've run out of the hope that people will ever be anything other than exhaustion.

Now, I'd rather be alone than spend so much energy navigating them.

"It's hard to be myself at home," I say.

"Is it?"

I swallow. "I feel obligated to do whatever I can to make sure my parents don't worry about me. They asked about the field trip when I got home, and I automatically smiled and laughed and said it was normal. Josh fell a lot. The other kids laughed at him. Everyone seemed to have a good time. They asked about you specifically—"

"Because they're likely obsessed with me."

I laugh. "Yes, okay. I'm glad I'm not the only one who recognizes that." Moving my attention off the distance, I find Pollux, who is incredibly good at neutral discussion, apparently. I wonder if it comes from being a girl dad. "They asked about you, and I just told them that you skated with your daughter, and it was very adorable."

"Adorable?"

"Incredibly."

He makes a low sound and gets another slice of pizza.

"I was worried sick about you, but I just smiled through their taunts and said whatever I needed to in order to get safely to my room. I meant to come see you immediately, but I was exhausted. I don't even remember getting in bed." My lungs tighten around an inhale. "Being with you is feeling like I can do or say anything without disappointment. I threaten violence, and you say—"

"Please."

My heart skips. I close my fingers against my skirt. It's snowmen today, because of the ice skating, and the encroaching cold. Little, fuzzy snowmen with tiny carrot noses and elegant top hats. "Right." I clear my throat. "I hate knowing that this feeling of hiding so much isn't normal. I hate feeling like I'll cause problems if I don't. I hate the way it seems so much like I'm lying with every part of myself to the people I care most about in this entire world. I don't want to disappoint them. I don't want to blame them. I don't…want to have to be the person I need to be outside in front of them anymore."

"But it's uncomfortable to think about how they might react to more genuine pieces of you as though they are the foreign ones?"

I look at my fingers. "It's not just that. I don't know how to stop. It's an automatic reaction as though I'm worried something bad will happen if I don't follow all the steps I always have. Any type of change—good or bad—feels like an attack on my nervous system. I want to tell them everything, but I don't know how they'll react. If I can't provide proof, I don't even know if they'll believe me. If I do ask for your help in providing proof, I don't know if they'll accept it, or if it'll terrify them. And…if they don't accept it…if it does terrify them…I don't know what I'll do."

"I can make the event disappear if things go poorly."

"I know, but their reaction will mean something to me whether they remember it or not." Running my fingers through my hair to push my curls back, I free a tight breath. "All this is to say I'd like to move in with you, but I can't until I figure out how to explain everything to them. Favorably. I can't keep living in a place where I feel constantly obligated to be the right picture they have of me, but I also can't leave without at least trying to show them the truth. I love them too much to turn all their best efforts into something I…" My voice cracks. "…I blame them for."

A beat passes.

Another.

Pollux is frozen when I find the courage to look his way.

Eyes wide, he stares at me.

"What?" I blush.

"I'm listening. Not persuading. Or offering advice." He swallows. "You…you want to move in with me?"

Did I really say that? My face blisters. "Well, move in with you is a bit of a stretch. I'd like to move into the pretty room you were preparing for me. We'll assess the connotations of moving in with you at other times." Likely when I'm weak and touch-starved and have accidentally witnessed Pollux fresh from a shower. "I'd just like to come home to a place where I can continue feeling however the day has made me feel without feeling like I have to continue pretending I'm never tired."

"You're not a burden, Kassandra. Even when you're tired."

I shiver. "You've not had to deal with me when I'm tired. Only angry. And since you're demented, you don't mind the anger."

"Would you like to stay over tonight and give me a taste of what you're like when you're tired?"

"Excuse you. Good children do not have co-ed slumber parties."

"You are the human definition of an adult."

I scoff, cross my arms, slouch, scoff again. "Um." Another scoff, for good measure. This man. This man. I am obviously three possums in a trench coat. I don't know what he's talking about. "No."

"I am almost entirely certain I have not provided ignorant misinformation."

"What's the fae definition of an adult? Maybe those are the genes I take after."

"An adult is a creature that has fully grown or developed. A faerie that can say they are an adult and expresses as much is a faerie who both is an adult and would like to be treated as one. For the most part within Cael's domain, every being is treated with the respect humans often reserve for adults."

"That's bonkers."

"Is it?"

"I am not an adult. Please treat me as a child and provide me with nap times and snacks."

Pollux laughs. "Gladly, dearest. I suppose in that case, we should change seats and I should get you home to bed."

"Can you drive?"

"Legally, no. I don't have a license. Physically, I am capable, and these contraptions are far more convenient to commandeer than what they once were."

Legalities will forever ruin my fun. As will social constructs. And my own sense of morality.

Before I find a way to express that, however, he sees right through me. Probably because I'm pouting and crossing my arms instead of smiling peachily and saying oh no no no, I shouldn't, I couldn't, but I do ever so appreciate the invitation.

"You want to stay over," he says.

"It's a school night," I mumble.

"We can go to bed early."

"Being in a new place will mess with my mental schedule. I can't afford the excess strain of attempting to get used to an unfamiliar bed right now."

Pollux nods. "I understand." He gets the final slice of pizza, and boy am I glad I got the extra large. "So the plan is this: figure out a way to tell your parents everything so you can move in with me starting December twenty-first. Roughly a week and a half of time to plot. It should be simple enough to coordinate on top of the Christmas party on the twentieth if I'm helping."

My eyes narrow as I stare at the crazy man eating pizza beside me. "What?"

"Winter break starts on the twenty-first."

"I gathered that. What?"

"You want to move in, but there will be an adjustment period. You don't want the adjustment period to cause extra stress to your schedule and risk affecting school hours. Approximately two weeks of break can help that transition. The alternative is waiting until summer, so it depends on which feels harder: continuing as you have been and coming home to a place where you feel pressured to pretend, or moving."

"Um, obviously moving is harder."

"Is it?"

"Yes."

He makes a low sound. "Really?"

"Obviously," I repeat.

"But the bedroom I have prepared for you is bigger than yours."

I arch a brow and ignore the reminder that this whole entire man has been in my adorable and childish bedroom without my knowledge. In all fairness, I've snooped extensively in his house and bedroom, too, but I don't want to be fair right this second. "Okay, and?"

"More room for your yarn. An entire cozy hammock for your stuffed animals. A larger closet for your dresses. A bigger desk for your sewing machine. And a nicer chair. With lumbar support."

"Excuse me, you don't need to go that far. Also, you're only supposed to listen, not persuade."

"I'm not persuading. I listened. I heard that you wanted something. I am letting you know it is possible, providing more details, and awaiting further input that I will listen to for as long as makes you confident you have been heard."

He makes it really hard not to throw caution to the wind and be a bad child who frivolously partakes of co-ed slumber parties.

In other news, the lumbar support comment shouldn't be so powerful, but apparently when he was snooping in my room, he saw the tiny chair I currently have at my desk. Maybe he even saw that the padding is so thin the bolts are coming through the bottom.

I believe my reaction to his information about lumbar support qualifies me as old, so it's truly illogical for me to be so violently concerned over what Mommy and Daddy will think.

Alas.

Here I am.

Plotting how I could possibly move out by winter break alongside asking Pollux to make me French toast the morning after I move in. He's a better cook than I am. I bet he wouldn't just dunk sandwich bread in egg. He'd bake the loaf fresh, whip the cream himself, add strawberries…

He's an overachiever, too, so he'd probably bring it to me in bed and wake me with a forehead kiss before letting me know the orange juice is fresh-squeezed and he can strain the pulp out if I don't like it, but it's good for me, and he'd know all the reasons behind it being good for me. So I'd munch on my toast and listen to him tell me about the glories of vitamin C.

…gracious.

It's a self-serving fantasy if ever I've had one.

"Hypothetically, if I were to move in, how would I contribute to the household? Is there a chore chart I could weave myself into? My cooking is very hit or miss, but I do have a couple recipes that are reliable."

"Xios handles the cleaning. I don't mind cooking now that I've started it to take care of Xios, but I would appreciate you sharing new recipes with us. I fully want to incorporate your existence into the household, so I understand an amount of contribution is necessary to feel like an active member; however…" His brows furrow. "…I don't want a chef or a maid. My home will become the place you can safely exist and call your own. I want your companionship. Your laughter. To be awakened too early on the weekend because you were up all night making something that you're proud of. I want to hear your music in the halls and see your favorites in the fridge and take you places and explore things I could not otherwise comfortably entertain on my own. I want to do things with you and be with you. If that is not enough, I will stand next to you as you battle Xios for the right to fill the dishwasher without him rearranging it completely behind you." Pollux rolls his eyes. "Because he does that." Focusing his attention on me, Pollux says, "If just being near me is enough…allow me to assure you that just your presence in my life is as well."

I'm tingling.

I don't know if I like the sensation.

But the freedom in his words, which can't be lies, are too alluring to ignore.

I can't have both everything he's offering and everything I've known.

It's impossible to be fully fae and fully human. On some level, I either only get to be a little of each or all of one. But, at the least, if I could separate my work from my personal life, if I could maintain the appearances I need to at work, then come home and be whoever I am without shame or worry…that's something.

Isn't it?

Of course it is.

The real question isn't whether or not it's something; it's whether or not it's enough.

At the very least, is it a step in the right direction?

I love my littles. I love my job. I just wish that sometimes it weren't so abusive. And exhausting. And overwhelming. I wish I weren't preparing children to navigate an unkind world where success means inevitably losing pieces of themselves or facing rejection of the most vulnerable parts.

"December twenty-first…" I murmur. "How do I even start to tell my parents this insanity? And what if they think you're a demon or something?"

Pollux finishes the pizza, closes the box, locates a napkin, and wipes his hands before cuddling his crocheted bee again. Peering at me with his chin propped against butter yellow, he murmurs, "It would not be the first time."

I believe it would physically injure me to witness anyone linking this man to something so horrible when he's like…this.

At a personal level, I know he can't be a demon because he's made of the same stuff as Andromeda, and she's survived every Bible reading we've had at school with enthusiasm, often adding fun facts.

As though someone has been providing her with something of a religious education at home. And including the historical context of many of the more modernly-questionable moments.

It has been refreshing to not have to fight with my children in order to explain how the Bible is a massively feminist book when looked at through the context of the time period.

Case in point, calling Pollux anything less than an adorable, awkward, genuine mess is the same as saying all seizures are a sign of demon possession.

And then taking your child out of my school on account of another child who has epilepsy.

I may be forced to tolerate it, but I will be infuriated for the rest of forever.

"What's wrong?" Pollux murmurs.

I scowl. "I just thought of something unsavory."

"Involving…me?"

"Absolutely not. You are a beautiful sunshine person made of wonderful things. And I'm hopeful that my parents don't have prejudices that would bar them from seeing that." But, of course, it's the not knowing that always gets me. I desperately wish I could line actions up like a syllabus and run through every point that might shift the grading scale. At least then if something goes horribly amiss, I have a record I can assess for a reason.

Exhaling, I calm myself, attempt to believe in the kindness of my parents, and say, "I'll talk to them within the next few days to test the waters a little bit. We'll go from there?"

Wide-eyed, Pollux stares at me.

My skin prickles as heat rises to my cheeks. "What? This is just moving into a place where I can frown freely without feeling like I'm a failure for not being perfectly happy and at peace and together all the time. Nothing else. We're still sorting through the whole I'm fae thing. Until I know what kind and how I function under that title, we're not entertaining married life at a traditional level. Got it, got it?"

His eyes warm as the most beautiful and tender smile I've ever seen touches his lips. "Is there anything you want that I can have ready for you?"

"We hardly know yet if my parents won't have me admitted to a psych ward during winter break instead, Pollux. I'm certain if they think I've gone mad, I can convince them it's nothing worth losing school days over, but—"

"Regardless of whether you come or not, I will prepare a place for you. It will be there, ready and waiting, so you can know in the moments when you feel lost there is somewhere you fundamentally belong."

My lips part as every hair on my arms stands up straight. I'm speechless for several long moments. Because the only words I can think of are the ones I'm not supposed to say…unless I love a faerie enough to belong to them.

But, looking at Pollux right now, maybe…I almost do.