It was never effortless to love Aaron Warner. He was a difficult teenage boy who seemed to forget a lot of the time that that was what he was-a teenage boy. He'd always felt that loving or even caring for him would be impossible for all the world to...
Ups! Tento obrázek porušuje naše pokyny k obsahu. Před publikováním ho, prosím, buď odstraň, nebo nahraď jiným.
THE ELEVATOR PINGS open and it's as if my heart knows it, racing and pounding in my ears like thunder.
The second we—Kenji and I—turn the corner, Haider Ibrahim will be there. I don't know much about him other than he's the son of the Supreme Commander of Asia. He has a sister, Nazeera, but I'm not sure if she's here yet or not.
"I'm going to shit myself," Kenji murmurs.
"Don't," I say to him.
"Oh, thanks, that's just shoved that problem"—He thrusts his hand forward—"right out the window, Mara. It's not like we're meeting with one of the Supreme Commander's kids or anything. Dammit, Warner's not even here,"
"First of all," I face him, "the Ibrahim kids are just that—kids. Sure, are they mini versions of their parents? Yeah, I guess. But that doesn't change the fact that I alone have more power than all of them combined. And secondly—" My irritation rises, "Warner doesn't need to be here, okay? I can handle this just fine on my own."
Kenji just blinks at me like I've suggested we blow up the country. "There's so much wrong with what you just said."
"Whatever," I turn around again and start making my way out of the elevator.
Kenji follows and it's not long after that Haider Ibrahim comes into view. He's just like the picture that Delalieu showed me earlier: tall, brown skin that match his kind eyes. He's wearing a dark gray leather jacket over what I can only assume is meant to be a shirt, but is actually a series of tightly woven chains strung across his body. His upper body only barely concealed by his chain-link shirt. His closely tapered black pants disappear into shin-high combat boots, and his light eyes are rimmed in a flutter of thick black lashes.
He freezes, his own eyes scanning over me like I'm some new car his dad is getting him for his birthday. Weird comparison but somehow it fits. His lips part in slight surprise and his eyebrows lift as his eyes study every inch of me. Uncomfortably lingering on everything below my face the most.
My hands find my hips instantly and I cock my head to meet his gaze. "Can I help you?"
Kenji winces. "This is awkward as fuck," he whispers to me.
"Yeah, because of him," I whisper back, "not me."
Haider looks up finally, startled and shocked as if he didn't believe that we were really here. "You're the Supreme Commander. Yes?" There's a hint of an accent there.
"Yes. Do I have to repeat my question?"
"Mara—"
"It's fine," Haider cuts Kenji off with a nervous chuckle. "I believe my introduction was quite informal, I apologize."
"I believe the fact that there wasn't one at all was the informal part," I say with a sarcastically sweet smile. "Oh, and the staring."
