small oasis away from the compound. Vikki had laughed at her when she moved in with Eric over a year ago, asking how one mile made any difference. Gazing at the dinner and Eric, Zoey felt like she was a billion miles from the other life she lived. They ate and discussed their days. Eric managed to make his boring days sound fun: some issue with someone else’s figures that made his boss cry, a coworker named Tory that kept hitting on him and today, one of the bathrooms exploded and flooded the main hallway with sewage.
Laughing at his stories, Zoey kept her attention divided between him and the clock, content to be there, but restless to be gone. She finished eating at half past six and was getting ready to stand and leave when Eric glanced up at her.
“I know you’re in a hurry. Five minutes, okay?” he asked. “I bought your fave dessert.”
“Sure.”
He rose and took their plates, disappearing into the kitchen. Anxious to be gone, she glanced at her watch a few times and tapped her foot. She’d have less time to get ready when she got to Vikki’s. Mentally, she double-checked everything she put in her backpack. Everything was there, down to her mascara and the paper thin knife she’d wear strapped to her thigh under a dress.
“It’s nothing fancy, but …”
She looked up with a smile as Eric brought in a large dinner plate with two small plates on top of it. Her smile froze as he lowered it to the table. It was her favorite dessert, yes, with one addition. Right in the center of her French vanilla ice cream with chocolate sprinkles was an engagement ring.
“… I know you hate parties and for people to make big deals out of things. This might be way too informal,” he said nervously. He dropped to one knee. “This ring comes with a lifetime supply of French vanilla.” He joked then drew a deep breath. “Zoey Alexander, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”
Alexander wasn’t even her real last name. The Professor gave her his, since it was customary for recruits to assume new identities when they became Hunters. Eric had no idea who or what she was.
Zoey panicked. She stood. “I, ah, this is kind of a surprise, isn’t it? I mean we talked about someday.” She backed towards the couch and picked up her backpack. “Maybe I, um, can think about it. While at the library. Just to you know … think about it.”
Eric looked stunned.
“Um, so that’s what I’ll do,” she babbled. “Think at the library. Surrounded by books. Library books. They help me study, right? They’ll help me think.” She was at the door. “So, okay. I’ll see you later.”
She fled. Only when she’d run two blocks did she register how cold the dusk and rain were. She’d been running the wrong way, away from campus, not towards the dorms where she met Vikki before every mission. Her chest was heaving, as if she’d run for twenty miles, not a couple hundred feet. A car sidled up to her and stopped.
“You’ll get sick in this rain.” Eric’s voice was tense, but steady. “Hop in.”
Zoey wanted to refuse and run more, but she climbed in, cold. The tension between them was not the good kind. She glanced at him. He was pale, his hands clenching the steering wheel.
“Eric, I’m sorry. I just freaked out a little,” she said.
He said nothing for a long moment. “Maybe it was too soon. I dunno. I thought you wanted this as much as I do.”
“I do. I think I do. I mean, I do. You know me. I’m…” She sought the right words.
“An enigma?” he supplied. “It’s what attracted me to you originally. I still don’t know what you do all day.”
“School stuff.”
“I was going to say martial arts or something, based on your collection of knives.” He pulled up to the curb in front of the dorms. He didn’t look at her.
“There are a lot of things I don’t feel comfortable talking about,” she said honestly.
“Maybe you shouldn’t marry someone, if you can’t tell him who you are,” he said softly. “Zoey, if you’re not comfortable talking to me, this isn’t going to work. I think you need to figure out what you want.”
Zoey hurt. She didn’t know why. Was it for him? Was it fear?
“We can talk about it later,” he said at her silence. He wouldn’t