Birthright

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

The atmosphere as they prepared dinner felt like a contradiction to Kray. There was a decidedly intimate layer that hung over the kitchen, evident in the quick smiles and easy words between them, but there was also tension, so thick that he'd need an enhanced blade to cut through it. It was the kind of tension that made his entire body hum with excitement, so he wasn't entirely opposed to it. He hadn't felt remotely this exhilarated since . . . well, since the last time he was around Alex when they were younger and allowed himself to relax.

Music filled the kitchen as she instructed him on preparing the fish for the skillet. Her bare arm brushed his when she stood beside him by the kitchen island, and his skin prickled with goose bumps. She nudged him deliberately then, grinning when the guitar riff for 'Magic' by Pilot came on over the built-in radio.

He grinned back and then laughed when she began to move in time with the music. "The more things change, the more they stay the same," he said to himself.

Alex had always been an old soul, into music and TV shows from decades and decades ago. She used to say it was because things were so much more diverse back then, a motley of expressions that created the beautiful tapestry of human history. With most of humanity restricted to one continent now, most of that had died out and created a homogenous environment that fostered unity and disavowed nonconformity.

Which was a strange thing, coming from the most conforming person he'd ever met. And yet, he understood her. Art and music had always been Alex's way of expressing her stifled individuality. She didn't have the freedom to pick what she wanted to be for the rest of her life, so she valued the ability to make smaller, insignificant choices.

As she sang along to a love ballad from the late 90s, her rich soprano blending with the singer's but distinctive in its youthfulness and slightly sardonic undertones, he watched the life on her face and marveled at how different this version of her was from the one she showed the world. She looked carefree, and he wondered if this was the person she could've been all along if her father hadn't reduced her life to existence inside a glass box.

Dinner was a quiet affair. He sat across from her and listened attentively as she talked about the past few years they'd been apart. He learned about her travels across the Mainland, the cities and towns she'd seen and the diverse people she'd met. She told him about the first year of life at Calsin Foundation and the adjustment she'd had to make from half-human to fully Meta.

She dropped her gaze when she spoke of the enhancer, and he knew she was thinking of the sacrifice he and countless Sanser children had made to create her. But he kept his steady gaze, not letting her know it bothered him, even though it made him wonder what she'd say if she knew about people like Carter, who'd given his life for a cause he never wanted.

Thankfully they both steered clear of unpleasant stories, focusing on funny and insightful anecdotes about their youth. Feeding ducks at the pond in the park, the first time he'd met her husky, Cel, and tried over his own feet to get away from it, stories about old classmates they'd both lost track of in the ensuing years.

Despite the familiarity and ease, the tension between them persisted, and he knew exactly what was causing it. It was that mind-blowing kiss in the living room earlier. It was impossible to pretend that hadn't happened. Every time he glanced at her, the memory of it prickled his skin with heat, especially all those areas she'd touched with her hands, her lips.

He knew she was thinking about it, too, judging by the way he'd catch her staring at him occasionally, her forehead crinkled and her lips set into a contemplative line. Like he confounded her, made her wonder about things she'd never dared to think about before. Made her long for things she'd never dared to want before.