Page 68 of Blood Debt
I take her wrist and pull her forward again.
We pass another food stall—charcoal-grilled skewers, hot sweet nuts, fried cheese on a stick—and I buy two of everything. She complains once, but eats almost all of it. By the time we hitthe edge of the crowd, her shoulders have dropped an inch, and her mouth isn’t pressed in a hard line anymore.
She’s watching. Laughing, even.
I steal a glance at her from the side.
Her face is softer in this light. A little pink from the heat. Her hair’s loose at the sides now, the pins probably slipping out. She has this distracted look as she watches a girl with glitter on her cheeks toss a toy to her dad. I watch her watching.
And I feel a strange pull in my chest.
I don’t know what it is.
But it isn’t quiet.
We find a bench near the edge of the street—half tucked beneath a paper lantern strung between two poles. It flickers slightly.
She sits stiffly at first, still scanning the crowd like someone who doesn’t trust happiness to last. But I hand her the tub of popcorn, sit beside her, and lean back.
I breathe in deep.
“You feel that?” I say, nudging her lightly with my shoulder. “Even the air’s better here.”
She exhales through her nose.
Then nods. “It is.”
I glance sideways.
She’s chewing quietly, head tilted, hair slipping loose down the side of her face. I reach into the tub, pluck a piece, and offer it to her.
She pulls away instinctively.
“No.”
I lean in.
“Yes.”
She tries to turn her head, but I push the kernel toward her mouth until she laughs—just a little—and finally takes it.
I grin.
“See?” I say. “You’re practically a local now.”
She rolls her eyes, grabs another handful from the tub, and pops one in her mouth.
I watch a streak of popcorn sugar—maybe from the kettle corn glaze—smear at the corner of her mouth.
I don’t think. I lean forward. I brush my thumb lightly against her cheek, then lean in and run my tongue over the little smudge at the corner of her lip.
Her body freezes. But she doesn’t pull away.
Our faces are so close now, I can feel her exhale against my mouth.
So I kiss her. Her mouth softens against mine like it’s been waiting all night to be asked.
Her lips taste like sugar and heat. A little salty from the popcorn, soft from everything else.
