professional assassin, and I doubted you even knew how lethal you looked.
“Want me to push him in the pool?” Valentina said at my side when she caught me staring at you.
“What?” I schooled my expression and directed my attention at her instead. She smelled like a watermelon Jolly Rancher, and her curves were hard to miss. We’d been working on our tans all summer. Both our skin tones were naturally dark, so it was usually a contest of who could have fewer tan lines. Val liked to go topless in our backyard, something that drove my parents crazy. Her face, at the moment, was bright with color, not to mention the splotches of powder that streaked her cheeks and forehead. I caught the scandalized look in her eyes but said nothing.
“You know, get him wet so he takes off his shirt?” she said with a sly look.
I laughed. It was not a bad plan. “You don’t think he’s too old for me?” If she only knew how old you really were.
“Just old enough.” She smiled. “I made this for you, but it looks like your man piece needs it more.” She thrust a plastic cup into my fingers where it sweated against the palm of my hand. A mixture of Hawaiian Punch, Pixie Sticks, and Sprite, Valentina called it Sugar Rush. It was sweeter than cough syrup, but on a hot day like this, it really hit the spot.
I waved off a few guys calling for me to join them where they were dunking each other in the pool and passed by some girls painting each other’s chests and bellies with shaving cream. You were taking it all in, eyes sweeping over the wild rumpus until they landed on mine. A smile broke over your face, one that was just for me.
“You look thirsty,” I said, then flushed with embarrassment. But you missed the innuendo.
“Thank you,” you said happily and brought the cup to your lips, drinking half of it in just a few gulps. One of your cheeks was splashed hot pink, bleeding into a bit of blue around your mouth. You’d shaved your beard recently, and now there was just a light scruff. I used to love playing with your beard. Now, I wanted to rub my cheek against it in a completely different way.
“How do I look?” you asked and tugged at the bottom of your white t-shirt, another casualty of the piñata explosion.
“Like a unicorn had diarrhea on you.”
You laughed and glanced around. “Is this typically how the young people celebrate their birthdays?”
I scowled at you. You were doing that thing again. “Don’t be ageist, Henri. Are you having fun?”
You smiled ruefully and nodded. “I am. Thank you for inviting me.”
I clapped your shoulder. “Any time.”
Just then one of the guys—Carter—came by with a balloon and popped it over our heads, dusting us both with color. A bit of purple powder coated your lashes. You squinted and rubbed at your eye. When you pulled your hand away, your eyeball was red and irritated, so I suggested you come inside to wash it out.
Papa was outside making sure no one spiked the drinks or snuck off to get high, so I led you to my bedroom. You sat at the edge of my bed while I retrieved a wet washcloth. I told you to close your eyes and slowly wiped your face.
Why did this feel so familiar? It was the quiet hush that had fallen over the room and the complete trust you had in me as I gently swabbed your eye. When I’d finished, you opened your eyes and our gazes locked. Were you seducing me or was I seducing you?
“Henri, can I ask you something?” I said in an even tone.
You nodded, not breaking my stare. You were falling under my thrall. I saw it in the way your mouth relaxed, and your jaw went slack. I tilted my head and your eyes followed the subtle movement. I’d practiced my technique on my cats, then on my friends and adversaries. Lately, I’d been using it on my teachers. But never on you… until now.
“Who’s Orlando?” I asked lowly.
You sighed deeply but didn’t look away. I laid one hand on your upper arm. My eyes were my power source but combining it with touch allowed me to level up. You wanted to talk, and I wanted the truth.
“Orlando was my lover,” you said in a faraway voice.