Total pages in book: 210
Estimated words: 200837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1004(@200wpm)___ 803(@250wpm)___ 669(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 200837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1004(@200wpm)___ 803(@250wpm)___ 669(@300wpm)
Her eyelids drop into a low and lazy position. Like these words just revealed something about me. Something she doesn’t care for. And then there is a marked shift in her attitude. A polite smile appears. A hand extends as her back straightens. “Thank you for your help, then. I can take it from here.”
It’s in this moment that I see the real up-city Clara Birch for the first time.
I don’t know who she is. Hell, maybe she doesn’t even know who she is. But she is most certainly someone. She’s got a certain poise to her now that wasn’t apparent before I pissed her off with a dismissal. And she’s not one of those women who will throw a tantrum or start screaming obscenities—though I have no doubt she’s capable of that, given her colorful vocabulary.
She’s in possession of herself. Completely in control. And this change is some kind of ingrained training. Something learned. Something cultivated. Probably over a long period of time.
I don’t shake her hand, but neither does she walk away. We just stare at each other.
There’s something going on here.
Some kind of pull between us.
I don’t understand it, but it’s definitely there.
“Admit you need my help.”
She nearly guffaws. “What?”
“Admit you need my help and if you do, I’ll agree to this little experiment. And if you aren’t injured, I’ll help you. Because that’s what you want from me. You want my help. You’re just too…” I pause, so I can choose the right word.
She squints, ready to be offended.
There are many words to describe my first impression of Clara Birch. ‘Egotistical,’ ‘conceited,’ ‘stuck up.’ But these are actually just insults that I feel compelled to hurl at her because she’s fucking with my preconceived expectations.
Better words to describe her are ‘composed’ and ‘confident.’ “You’re just too proud to ask for it.” ‘Proud’ is the right way forward because there’s nothing wrong with being self-reliant, which is the manner in which I mean it.
Clara’s expression softens, but she tilts her chin up at the same time, perfectly illustrating my description. “You’ll help me get home?”
“If you come out of the health center pronounced perfectly fit, I’ll help you. I don’t know what that means, but I’ll help you.”
“Why?” She’s squinting at me. “I mean, what’s in it for you? You literally just said, like thirty seconds ago, that I’m no one to you.”
“You are no one. That’s not a lie. But… I’m curious.”
“About?”
“Your story, for one. But also… you. Because nothing adds up.”
“That doesn’t answer my question. Who cares if nothing adds up?”
“I just feel a compulsion of curiosity.”
“That’s it?” She side-eyes me. “You’re not even gonna mention that I’m pretty?”
“What?” And then I smile.
“I mean, that would make more sense.”
“What would make more sense?”
“That you want sex.”
“That’s not it.”
“I’m just saying, if it were, it would make sense. But you’re sticking with ‘curious,’ huh?”
I force the grin down. Make myself serious. “Yes. I’m sticking with curious.”
“Suit yourself. Which way to the health center then? I’m ready.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“Do you have a last name?” We’re walking again, just entering the district, when I ask him this. It’s not crowded here at the edge, but it will be very soon.
“Saarinen.”
“Where do you come from?”
“What makes you think I’m not from here?”
“You sound different.”
He smiles, but doesn’t look at me. His gaze wandering over the people around us. “I come from Delta.”
“Where’s that?”
“Long, long way across the sandy sea. On the edge. By the Alphas.”
“I have no idea what that means.”
He stays quiet for a moment, maybe trying to come up with a way to explain it, and I take this moment to think about him.
Nothing about Tyse Saarinen is anything like Finn Scott. And I do mean nothing. He’s very tall, for one. Finn is not short, in fact they might even be the same height, but something about Tyse comes off as looming. He’s got a lot of tattoos. Finn does not. No one up-city gets tattoos. That’s something they do down the canal. And he’s not clean-shaven, like Finn.
I’ve never seen a soldier. We don’t have a military in my version of Tau City. There’s no need. There’s no one coming to invade us because we’re the last ones left.
But of course, I’ve seen illustrations of them in textbooks when I was learning history as a child and Tyse looks exactly like they were depicted in those books. Almost down to the smallest details, including the tattoos. Even his hair. Which is shaved close to his scalp at the sides of his head, but longer over the top. It’s not tied back today, so most of the time you can’t see that the sides are shaved unless he rakes it all back into place with his fingertips because the longer hair covers it.
Finn’s hair was neither long nor short. It was just… hair. About shoulder length. And it’s blond, not a dark auburn brown. But it looked good against his desert-tanned skin.