Cress (The Lunar Chronicles #3) - Marissa Meyer Page 0,78
I think your eyes are … well, dreamy.”
His lips quirked. “So you have noticed.” Pulling off the bandanna, he tucked it into a pocket, before stretching his legs out in front of him.
Cress fidgeted with the blunt ends of her hair, staring at his profile with a longing that made her entire body ache. Finally, after an agonizing minute of gathering her courage, she shifted closer to him and leaned her head against his shoulder.
“Good idea,” he said, wrapping an arm around her waist. “How could they not think that we’re in love?”
“How couldn’t they?” she murmured. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to memorize the exact feel of him.
“Cress?”
“Mm?”
“We’re good, right?”
She peeled her eyes open. A crop of palm trees in front of her glowed orange in the fluttering firelight and she heard the burst and crackle of sparks, but the noise seemed far away.
“What do you mean?”
“I was just thinking about, you know, what you said out in the desert. I figured it was mostly the fever speaking, but even still, I have this habit of saying things without really thinking about them, and with you being new to this whole socializing thing…” He trailed off, his arm tightening around her waist. “You’re awfully sweet, Cress. I don’t want to hurt you.”
She gulped, her mouth feeling suddenly chalky. Never had she thought that such kind words could sting, but she couldn’t help feeling that his compliment didn’t mean what she wanted it to mean.
She peeled her head off his shoulder. “You think I’m na?ve.”
“Sure, a little,” he said, so matter-of-factly that it seemed less of an insult than being called sweet. “But mostly I just think I’m not the best person to demonstrate all the goodness humanity has to offer. I don’t want you to be too disappointed when you realize that.”
Cress knotted her fingers in her lap. “I know you better than you think, Captain Thorne. I know that you’re smart. And brave. And thoughtful and kind and—”
“Charming.”
“—charming and—”
“Charismatic.”
“—charismatic and—”
“Handsome.”
She pressed her lips and glared at him, but his mocking grin had swept away any hints of sincerity.
“Sorry,” he said. “Please, continue.”
“Perhaps more vain than I’d realized.”
He threw his head back and laughed. Then, to her surprise, he reached over and took her hand, his other arm still around her waist. “For having such limited social experience, you, my dear, are an excellent judge of character.”
“I don’t need experience. You can try to hide it behind your bad reputation and criminal escapades, but I can see the truth.”
Still beaming, he nudged her with his shoulder. “That on the inside, I’m really just a sappy, lovelorn romantic?”
She dug her toes into the sand. “No … that you’re a hero.”
“A hero? That’s even better.”
“And it’s true.”
He hid his face behind his hand, dragging Cress’s hand along with it. It occurred to her that this entire conversation was a joke to him. But how could he not see it?
“You’re killing me, Cress. When have you ever seen me do anything that would be considered heroic? Rescuing you from the satellite was all Cinder’s idea, you’re the one who kept us from crashing and got us through the desert—”
“I’m not talking about any of that.” She yanked her hand out of his grip. “What about when you tried to raise money to help pay for android assistance for the elderly? That was heroic, and you were only eleven!”
His smile slipped away. “How did you know about that?”
“I did my research,” she said, crossing her arms.
Thorne scratched his jaw, his confidence momentarily thrown. “All right,” he said slowly. “I stole a necklace from my mom and tried to sell it. When I got caught, I figured they wouldn’t punish me if they thought I’d been trying to do a good thing, and since I had to give the money back either way it didn’t really matter. So I made up the story about giving the money to charity.”
She frowned. “But … if that’s the case, what were you really going to do with it?”
He sighed dreamily. “Buy a hover-racer. The Neon Spark 8000. Man, I really wanted that.”
Cress blinked. A hover-racer? A toy? “Fine,” she said, smothering the twinge of disappointment. “What about when you released that tiger from the zoo?”
“Really? You think that was heroic?”
“He was a poor, sad animal, locked up his whole life! You must have felt bad for him.”
“Not exactly. I grew up with robotic cats instead of real pets, so I thought that if I let