Prologue
Already numb from the cold December air, he perched on the flattest part of the roof and listened to the girls talk and giggle from the open window below him. Darkness hid him well enough to afford recklessness. He leaned forward, straining to hear her voice. He didn’t have to wait long.
She was loudest, talking about that idiot again, somebody she’d barely noticed before. His fingernails dug into the fleshiness of his palms every time she said that name. He saw through her though, knew she did it to teach him a lesson, to taunt him, punish him even.
Pretending to give her attention to somebody new was all part of the game she played so cleverly.
He knew her tricks, her messages to him that he needed to try harder. She didn’t have to say the words. He understood her. Why should she care about him if he gave up at every hurdle? He had to earn her the hard way, prove his devotion to her, or he would never deserve her.
He scratched behind his ear until it bled. He was painfully aware of the fact he needed to find new ways of grabbing her attention. She was a bird, delicate and free, one who had to be lured into a cage with special attention.
She hadn’t looked him in the eye in weeks. He didn’t care what anyone said; she was the one he was supposed to be with, the other half of his soul. If he didn’t have her close, he’d break. He endured agonising pain when he left her window every night, suffered the cracks that formed in his heart whenever she walked away from him, turned away, spoke to somebody else.
Her bright laughter filled the air. She knew he couldn’t resist. If she didn’t want him to hear, she’d close her window, pull her curtains together, speak quietly, never let him know her. But she wanted him. That was the difference. When he finally figured out the right way to show her he wanted her, too, they could be together.
First, he had to prove himself.
He pulled his knees to his chest and closed his eyes, letting her voice drift around him as he envisioned her smiling face. He remembered her best dancing before a bonfire, shadows moving as if at her will, the fire cracking and licking ever closer as though desperate to caress her skin. She’d been a fire goddess that night, right before the spirit board and furniture began to move of their own accord. He covered his ears and hummed under his breath. He didn’t want to remember that part. Never that. Only her and the fire, dancing together.
Beautiful, beautiful…