Tamani guided Laurel under his arm in a long string of spins until her head whirled and she collapsed against his chest, laughing and breathing hard. It took her a moment to realize how tightly she was pressed against him. It was different from being close to David; for one thing, Tamani was much nearer to Laurel’s height. Standing so close, their hips met snugly.
She felt his arm tight at her back, holding her in. He would probably let go if she pushed away, but she didn’t. His fingers ran through her hair, then cradled the back of her neck, tilting her face back. He let his nose rest softly against hers and his breath was cool against her face as her fingers curled against the bare skin between the laces of his shirt.
“Laurel.” Tamani’s whisper was so quiet she wasn’t completely sure she’d heard it at all. And before she could think to protest, he kissed her.
His mouth was so soft, gentle, and tender against hers. The sweet taste of him melted into her. The dancing around them became a leisurely waltz as the earth seemed to slow in its orbit, then stop, just for her and Tamani.
Just for a moment.
The illusion shattered as Laurel turned her head, breaking contact, and forced herself to walk away. Out of the green, away from the dancers. Away from Tamani.
Angry, confused feelings spun through her as she walked out of the clearing. Tamani followed but said nothing.
“I should go,” she said vaguely, not turning to face him. And it wasn’t an empty excuse. She wasn’t sure just how long she’d been dancing, but probably too long. She had to get back. She headed in what she guessed was the general direction of the gate, hoping she would start to recognize her surroundings. She waited, optimistically, for Tamani’s hand to touch her waist, gently guiding her in the right direction as he had so many times before.
No such luck.
“You could at least apologize,” Laurel said. Her mood had turned sullen and she wasn’t quite sure why. Her head was a mess of confusion.
“I’m not sorry,” Tamani said, his tone not apologetic in the least.
“Well, you should be!” Laurel said, turning toward him for just a second.
“Why?” Tamani asked, his voice annoyingly calm.
Laurel turned to face him.
“Why should I be sorry? Because I kissed the girl I’m in love with? I love you, Laurel.”
She tried not to go breathless at his words, but she was completely unprepared for them. He had made his intentions known — very bluntly, at times — but he’d never told her straight out that he loved her. It made their flirtations seem too serious. Too consequential. Too close to being unfaithful.
“How long am I supposed to sit back and just wait for you to come to your senses? I’ve been patient. For years I’ve been patient, Laurel, and I’m tired.” He gently held both of her shoulders, leaning over just a little to look her full in the face. “I’m tired of waiting, Laurel.”
“But David—”
“Don’t talk to me about David! If you want to tell me to back off because you don’t like it, then say that. But don’t expect me to worry about David’s feelings. I don’t care about David, Laurel.” He paused, his breath loud, heavy. “I care about you. And when you look at me with that softness in your eyes,” he said, fingers pressing just a little more firmly, “and you look for all the world like you want to be kissed, then I’m going to kiss you, David be damned,” he finished quietly.
Laurel turned away, her head aching. “You can’t, Tam.”
“What would you have me do instead?” he asked, his voice so raw and vulnerable it was all she could do to keep looking at him.
“Just…wait.”
“For what! For your parents to die? For David to die? What am I waiting for, Laurel?” he asked, his voice plaintive.
Laurel turned and started walking again, trying desperately to leave his words behind. She topped a steep hill and instead of seeing a slew of faerie homes, she looked out onto a pure white beach with sapphire blue waves lapping at the shore. Something was off about that — it didn’t smell like the ocean — but she couldn’t turn around, Tamani was behind her. So she kept going, her feet slow in the glittering, crystalline sand.
She crossed her arms over her chest as she stopped. She’d reached the water. There was nowhere else to go. The wind blew at her hair, throwing it back from her face. “I don’t like having you so far away,” Tamani said after a long pause. His voice sounded normal again, without the bitter edge. “I worry. I know you’ve got guards, but…I liked it better when you were at the land. I don’t like trusting other faeries with your life. I wish…I wish I could come out and do it myself.”
Laurel was already shaking her head. “It wouldn’t work,” she said firmly.
“You don’t think I could do a good enough job?” Tamani asked, looking at her with a seriousness Laurel disliked.
“It wouldn’t work,” she repeated, knowing her reasoning was very different from Tamani’s.
“You just don’t want me in your human world,” Tamani said quietly, his words carried to her on the light breeze.
The truth of the whispered accusation stung, and Laurel turned away from him.
“You’re afraid that if I was part of your human life you might actually have to make a real decision. Right now you have the best of both worlds. You get your David.” He spoke the name scornfully, anger creeping into his tone. It was better than the pain she heard in his voice before. She almost wished he’d just yell. Anger was so much easier than sadness, hurt. “And then you come out here and have me whenever you want me. I’m at your beck and call, and you know it. Do you ever consider how that makes me feel? Every time you leave — go back to him — you tear up my emotions all over again. Sometimes…” He sighed. “Sometimes I wish you would just stop coming around.” He let out a frustrated growl. “No, I don’t actually want that, but, I just…it’s so hard when you leave, Laurel. I wish you could see that.”
A tear slipped down Laurel’s cheek, but she rubbed it away, forcing herself to remain calm. “I can’t stay,” she said, happy that her voice was solid, strong. “If I come here…every time I come here…I have to leave, eventually. Maybe it would be better for you if I stopped coming back at all — easier.”
“You have to come back,” Tamani said, concern laced through his voice. “You have to learn to be a Fall faerie. It’s your birthright. Your destiny.”
“I know enough to get me through for a while,” Laurel insisted. “What I need now is practice, and I can do that from home.” Her hands shook, but she folded her arms across her chest, trying to hide it.
“That’s not the plan,” Tamani said, his voice just short of a reprimand. “You have to come back regularly.”
Laurel forced herself to speak calmly, coolly. “No, Tamani. I don’t.”
Their eyes met, and neither seemed able to look away.
Laurel gave in first. “I have to go. It’s better for me to be in my house after dark. I need you to take me to the gate.”