…” His voice is tinged with sincerity and regret.
I glance at the letter, trying to decipher his guarded response. “And your grandfather—Martin—came here to persuade you to not attend the Naval Academy?”
Aksel shifts his hands, scowling. “He insists I should attend an Ivy League school like the rest of my family.”
A lingering suspicion that he is hiding something leaks into my thoughts. “And … that’s a bad option?”
Aksel’s jaw clenches. He looks disgusted. “He says the military is no place for ‘someone like me.’ ”
“Has he seen you shoot?” I laugh. “Aksel, the only people who shoot better than you are combat snipers.”
Aksel draws his hands through his wet hair and then shakes it out. “He doesn’t mean someone with my marksmanship.” Aksel looks down at his hands, averting his eyes from mine. His neck is a blistering shade of red. “He means someone … privileged.”
I whistle under my breath. “If my mother meets Martin, she might punch him in the nose.”
While Aksel’s presence still unnerves me, my presence seems to conflict him. Aksel’s eyes dart between me and the far side of the pool.
“I suppose it’s my own fault for confiding in him about my parents’ deaths.” Aksel shrugs. “It was already hard enough for him, losing his daughter. But my dad flew into the mountains and performed surgery on those who otherwise would have died. He believed in it, you know? Using medicine to save the world. He would never have done anything to get himself, or my mom, killed.”
When Aksel looks back at me, as if he’s said too much, the turquoise of the pool reflects in his eyes so they appear a vivid blue. He stands and grabs my backpack off the floor. Throwing a sweatshirt over his head, the corner of his lip tilts upward in an exasperated, restless smile. “Let’s get some food,” he says, pulling me onto my feet.
On the staircase, I turn around to face him. It is dark without any natural light. Confined. With Aksel standing on the step below me, we are the same height. Our eyes lock. My heart bangs against my rib cage.
I know it now, more than ever. Aksel intimidates me. Not in an alarming way, but because when I’m around him I feel so much less in control of my thoughts, my instincts.
The connection between us is visceral.
His hands entwine my waist, resting on the hollow of my lower back.
Gently, he pushes me against the wall.
I slide my arms loose and crawl my fingers up his chest until they reach his neck. I tangle my fingers into his hair, and before I know it, our lips are meeting, quickly and urgently.
An intense heat races throughout my body. Blood pulses in my ears. I want nothing more than to be close to him. To feel his skin against mine.
We kiss until he leans away.
My breathing is so heavy, he must be able to hear it. He smells faintly of salt and sweat; his skin is still damp. With our bodies pressed tight together, I can feel each finger of his hand against the small of my back, holding me close to him, firmly, but not tightly. Securely.
His voice is calm, but concern and worry are etched into every syllable. “Sophia … I think …”
“Maybe you still shouldn’t be getting involved with me?”
He chuckles softly. “Maybe I shouldn’t be thinking.”
I push back against his stony chest, and saunter up the stairs. “So don’t.”
In the kitchen, Aksel opens the fridge, takes out a copper pot, sets it on the stove, and turns on the flame. “Henry’s mom dropped off dinner.” He grins. “My mom left her with a spare key, and she refused to give it back.”
I take a loaf of bread from a paper bag and slice two pieces using a serrated knife from the block on the counter.
Aksel notices the knife in my hand: my wrist tucked against the blade, my fingers clasped around the shaft. Immediately, I loosen my grip and spin the knife around to face the ground. “What do you eat when she doesn’t drop off food?”
“I have a cook,” he answers nonchalantly, ladling some soup into a bowl.
I raise an eyebrow. “And Krenshaw thinks I’m spoiled?”
While I eat the creamy, peppery potato soup, Aksel runs down the hall for a quick shower. When he reemerges, clean and dressed in a wool sweater and jeans, the skin on my neck warms.
Eventually, we leave the kitchen and wander into the cozy great room. With snow