Page 52 of Guiding Desire
“I’m sure they’re already organizing some sort of party. To celebrate this whole Conduit thing,” Orrey said and turned to the pot while Vin and Senlas exchanged a look. Orrey stirred the porridge. It was perfectly cooked. He added another splash of grain milk and some marrin powder so the delicate spice wouldn’t lose its flavor. It was something his dad always did. “This is about done.”
“And I want some!” Taros said, speed walking back to the living area in yellow pants and a dark blue shirt with bell sleeves.
Karmine and Col followed behind him, Col in a gorgeous dress, the kind of thing Orrey had seen other people pull off effortlessly, much like Col did, a feat Orrey knew he wasn’t capable of himself.
That, he mused while opening drawers in search of a serving spoon, had been one of the perks of being a protector: the uniform made one’s lack of flair and the inability to make even the nicest clothes look good unimportant.
A drawer next to the one Orrey was looking through opened, and a big, wooden ladle floated out, making Orrey gasp and skitter back against Vin, who seemed to live in Orrey’s blind spot and felt like a wall, solid, sure, decidedly unmovable for certain.
“Telekinesis, kitten,” Senlas said, grabbing the ladle in one hand and reaching to stroke Orrey’s shoulder and arm with the other.
“Yes, of course. It caught me by surprise.”
Karmine cleared his throat, joined them in the kitchen, and took the ladle from Senlas while Senlas remained focused on Orrey, who now found himself caught between Vin, who really didn’t seem to want to move a millimeter, and Senlas, who didn’t care.
“Before our new Conduit replaces me, I’ll take charge of this pot of porridge,” Karmine said.
“You seem to feel better, Orrey,” Coldis said. He was leaning on the kitchen island.
“I do, thank you.” Orrey should have probably turned toward Coldis, but Senlas was almost pressed up against him. Vin wasn’t going that far, but he kept Orrey from backing away. Curiously, the way Senlas was stroking him was so relaxing that Orrey no longer felt the strong need to move in the first place.
“Do I…scare you?” Senlas asked.
Everyone else around them seemed to quiet down noticeably.
“What? No, of course not,” Orrey said, shaking his head quickly.
Senlas narrowed his eyes. “You said you were never interested in Guardians. Is that why? Do our powers scare you? What we can do with them?”
Orrey’s mouth dropped open because the suggestion was preposterous, but that only lasted as long as the initial shock at the words. He slowly breathed in, then said, “I only just told you that you do not scare me. Why would you assume the opposite of what I’m telling you is true? Do you think I’m a liar? Or am I too…did I go to the wrong school and thus don’t know my own mind?”
“Oh, fuck. I’m suddenly no longer the only fire user in this team,” Karmine mumbled.
Watching Senlas’s face was like looking through a picture dictionary of emotions: shock, surprise, anger, embarrassment, guilt. And somehow, at the very end, a pout he cleared off his face too quick for Orrey to really consider it cute.
“I just wasn’t sure—”
Col cleared his throat pointedly.
Senlas frowned. “I meant to say, I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure you felt comfortable enough quite yet to tell me if you were scared.”
“If I were scared of you, I wouldn’t have agreed to have sex with you. Could you take a step back and let me cut those tara leaves?”
Senlas’s eyes widened.
“Good for you, Orrey,” Coldis said, which made Orrey feel better about that blush he was feeling but wasn’t sure was showing on his mangled face.
“Thank you.”
This time around, Orrey was left to go through the cabinets by himself until he found a cutting board and knife. It was annoying, and he was about to ask Senlas, but then found what he was looking for.
Orrey didn’t allow himself to get flustered, cut the tara at his own pace and in neat, even strips. After all, all he’d done was stand up for himself, and if his mom had taught him one thing, it was that nothing was wrong with that.
Orrey,whengrowingup,had often moved from one house to the other, from his colorful bedroom with the smart wall which allowed him to create art and even simple animations to the smaller bedroom filled with plushies, soft blankets, and floor cushions.
His second mom would wrap them both in the blankets when coming in to read him a bedtime story. Back in the colorful bedroom in his mom’s house, Orrey was expected to do something creative before bed or put himself to sleep by going through picture books on his screen.
As he sat between Coldis and Senlas, Orrey was grateful for his unconventional parental unit. Before anything else, it had taught him that strange was relative. Both households had taken meals at a table where conversation was the norm and being on your screen the exception.
