Page 29 of Secrets

Her cheeks take on a hue of pink with her words, and the blood in my veins warms in response.

I’m not one to lose my composure, or let my thoughts run away from me, but this woman has the concerning ability to make my mind dive into temptation. Into desire. Into…endearment.

“Oh, look. This one is about when they demoted Pluto.” She points to the screen, her focus already on something new. “I don’t know why, but I was so mad when they did that. It was like they were making an announcement to the world that the little guy doesn’t matter. He can be pushed aside to make room for the bigger and better. Which is bullshit, by the way because Uranus, you know.”

I have no earthly idea why I find her rant amusing, but I do. In fact, I can’t even stop the small twitch of my lips. “You seem rather passionate about it.”

The agent nods. “I am. Also, Sailor Pluto was one of my favorites.”

“The guardian of the underworld?”

Jessica’s face snaps toward me. “You watched Sailor Moon?”

I shrug, my eyes roving over the screen. “I read the manga. A kid left one in the shop and my father gave it to me to pass the time. Luckily, we had a library close by, so I could get a few more. Pluto was the darker character, if I can recall correctly.”

“Her existence was sad. Lonely. And those fucking rules she had to live by.”

I nod. “She died if she broke any of them, right?”

She nods, her face solemn.

There is more at play here than a simple character, and I find myself curious. I tell myself that by diving deeper into her, I’ll find a weakness. One I’ll use to kill both her and my one sided contract with Alexi.

At least, that’s what I tell myself when I ask, “are there a lot of rules you have to follow as a federal agent?”

“An ungodly amount, actually.” She sighs, her blue eyes dulling. “And I know, I know. Why the hell would I become a fed if I didn’t want to follow rules, right?”

My lips tilt. “A valid musing.”

Her eyes fall to my mouth for a moment before she smiles herself. We’re stuck in place for the few seconds that follow until finally she blinks and comes back to herself. “I just didn’t think they would besodamn strict, is all.”

I nod, biting my tongue from telling her she should work in Noxus if she doesn’t want to be bound by any laws.

We’re quiet for a few moments as we continue down the machines, stopping to inspect each one. It isn’t until we reach Jupiter that her smile returns. “One time my brother was supposed to finish a project for school, and he waited until the last minute—like after the stores had closed, last minute—and instead of telling our parents, he used all the fruit in the house to do it.”

“Seems rather resourceful,” I say, noting how close our fingers linger next to one another on the dashboard.

She huffs. “Yeah, except the pineapple he used was from my mom’s little fruit garden which took her two years to grow.”

Another involuntary smile curls my lips. “How much trouble did he get into?”

“None,” she says, her eyes drifting with the recollection of the memory. “I ran to the market and got another one, then hot glued it to the stalk.”

A laugh slips out. “So you’re a sneaky one, are you?”

“A little. But it was more so about not upsetting my mom. She was a literal angel, and I hated seeing her anything but happy.”

The semblance of my understanding causes a muscle deep in my sternum to twist with her words, but I don’t allow myself to truly acknowledge the discomfort. Not here, and not to this stranger. Instead, I simply nod. “Are you close with your family?”

Jessica nods and spends the rest of our small tour of the computers telling me all about them. I learn about her parents, her siblings—all three brothers—the family dogs. She tells me about the overabundance of love that filled her home, and how grateful she is that she was able to experience it.

The entire time she talks, I become more captivated by her and more intrigued by our vast differences. In every aspect that she is soft and tender, I am hard and calloused. Where she is hopeful and full of joy, I am despondent and melancholy. Where she blooms from her childhood, I simply rot.

Yet while we are complete opposites, there is something else there, just beneath the surface, that calls to me.

Something peculiar and obscure. But it’s there. Surrounding us in our own personal bubble, and soon, everything around us fades. Ironically, we become suspended in space, being completely and utterly transfixed in this moment.

I continue to listen to her, and never do I wish for her to stop. Never wonder how she has another story about something completely unrelated to her last. Not once do I note anything other than intrigue and instead, lean closer. Smile more.

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