Page 136 of Cerulean Truth
"Are the people she cares about," I finished, the gravity of the situation sinking in.
Maria nodded. "She might inadvertently put them and herself in danger by trying to prevent it from happening."
"I can't keep something this big from her… It's not right."
"Give us time, James, at least to figure out their next move. After that, you can tell her whatever you want."
The room fell into a heavy silence as Maria and I exchanged an unwavering glance. The weight of the impending revelation pressed against my chest, but for now, I had to trust Maria's instincts.
We both knew time was of the essence. Maria leaned in, her eyes reflecting a mix of urgency and resolve.
"James, promise me you'll tread carefully," she implored, her voice a low murmur. "This is a game with high stakes, and we can't afford to make a single misstep."
I nodded solemnly, understanding the gravity of our situation. She’d never given me any reason to ever doubt her abilities to analyze a certain situation. I trusted her judgement.
"Fine, but hurry it up," I conceded, my impatience evident in my voice.
With a final, determined look, we parted ways. My excitement about meeting up with Emma had taken a serious hit, buried under the weight of the secrets I now had to carry.
THIRTY-FIVE
EMMA
As my sessions with James as my tutor progressed during the following weeks, a familiar pattern began to emerge. Mornings would start off great. All my physical training had turned into a permanent excuse to touch and feel one another, yet the boundary of a kiss remained untouched, leaving me restless for his lips against mine.
Needless to say, all our interactions were now filled with not so innocent flirtations and the sexual tension between us rose to heights surpassing Everest's peaks and temperatures rivaling the depths of Hades.
Afterwards we would always practice my translation, which would still suck immensely. Which in turn we would bicker and fight about, with a kind of flair even Steven Spielberg would deem “too dramatic for his taste.”
After these heated exchanges, there would be an unspoken agreement to sweep the whole thing under the rug and move on, avoiding any discussion about it.
I was in way over my head. I was nowhere near where I should be with my magi training, I was starting to feel stuff for my trainer I hadn’t felt for anyone in a very long time, and I had no idea whether or not he reciprocated those feelings.
Each passing day only seemed to deepen the complexities of our relationship, leaving me stuck somewhere between the desire to excel in my magical studies and the overwhelming pull of my heart toward James. As the lines between student and tutor continued to blur, I found myself standing on the brink of a precipice, torn between the uncertainty of diving into the unknown with James or retreat to safer ground by myself.
The very confrontational differences between my permanent “fish-out-of-the-water” status quo, and James’s status as Leader of the largest Collective in the world, enhanced every insecurity I was already desperately fighting.
But James turned out to be the most amazing man I had ever met. And after a while, all the other stuff just paled in comparison.
And then came the night… The night I left.
The day ended as usual,with a heated discussion about my nonexistent translation skills.
“Any news on the Radicals and their lame attempt at turning me into a vampire?” I asked casually, trying to change the subject from another inane discussion.
“Emma, stop fixating on distracting shit and focus on translation. You have to summon way more emotion; it’s never going to work if you keep deflecting every time a feeling threatens to surface.”
“You’re being very contradictory!” I answered him, frustrated (again). “On the one hand, you want me to summon as much emotion as I can, and on the other, I might die if I do.”
“I never said you would die if you summoned emotion! I said youcoulddie if you don’t learn to control them. But you’re noteven there yet; we’re still on the first step: trying to get you to feel something…”
“I feel stuff!” I said gruffly.
“Really? Like what?” he asked.
“Emotions,” I answered dryly.
“Great answer. Very helpful. Did you learn to be so vocal in therapy?" He rolled his eyes.
