“Come on, let’s not kneel in the cold.”
He hauled her up by the elbows, helping her to her feet. Tally almost stumbled again, but Nate caught her, regarding her carefully.
“I remember,” Tally breathed before he could ask.
“I knew you would.” As if he had always known, despite his doubt some days prior. “Now you know how brave and courageous I’ve been through the centuries.”
He was making a joke, but Tally shook her head. It wasn’t the brave battles rising to the forefront of her mind. It wasthe tender moments, the soft candlelight and the veils lifted over her face, that floated most prominently to the surface.
“You know what came in first?” she asked. “ ‘I echo the same promises I made to you a thousand years ago. Yet all that time has not been enough. We have had a thousand years, and I want a thousand more.’ ”
Nate was grinning. “Wow, look at you, remembering my vows,” he said. “That was... Emperor Shenzong’s reign?”
“A long time ago,” Tally agreed. “About a thousand years, give or take.”
“Maybe a renewal is in place.”
“Don’t even think about it,” she warned instantly. “I’m getting in to college before marriage.”
“All right.” Nate shrugged. “One year is nothing to an immortal.”
“Four years.At least.”
“Well, now you’ve gone and taken it too far.”
Tally couldn’t hold back her amusement. Before she could overthink it, she leaned in and returned the kiss on his cheek. She didn’t give Nate any time to look smug. The moment she leaned away, she pivoted as fast as she could, hurrying into her dorm.
“See you tomorrow!” Nate called after her.
Who Will Save Me
byJULIAN WINTERS
NETFLIX MAKES ITseem as though every teenage boy will solve your problems with a clumsy smile and great hair and kissing.
Lots of kissing.
If my existence were Netflix-based, I’d be portrayed as this glittery-skinned, hazel-eyed, brooding boy with glowing ivory wings. Also, I’d be white. Or at least racially ambiguous.
“Can I have scrambled eggs with cheese, a bowl of grits, and... OJ!”
Bonus: I wouldn’t have the world’s hungriest charge sitting across from me in a diner at 9 p.m. on a Friday.
To be honest, being a Class-3 Guardian is kind of mediocre. We’re only given midlevel gifts to protect our charges:above-human strength, invulnerability, superspeed, enhanced hearing for when our charges call, healing touch.
No wings. And no kissing.
“Should I get toast too?” asks Eli.
“No,” I reply, flat and uninterested.
The Last Spoon is Eli’s favorite diner in downtown Decatur. Nothing like those small and greasy Waffle Houses around the city. Far from the overrated franchise feel of IHOP. Its long bar stacked with solo diners and a touchscreen jukebox in the corner and bright lighting washing out everything lands this place somewhere in the middle. But I like it, especially when Lisa waits on us.
“What else, sugah?” Her accent is exceptionally thick for this gentrified neighborhood.
“Can we have more syrup, please?” Eli tips the container over, one last amber splat landing on his blueberry waffles. “Oops.”
“I’ll bring more napkins too.” Lisa shuffles away, humming to the music.
