Change.
1. (v) replace (something) with something else, especially something of the same kind that is newer or better; substitute one thing for (another).
2. (n) the act or instance of making or becoming different.
Ever since the downfall of the Inj...
I face forward in time to see Yolanda barely walk down the steps from the cathedral which causes me to smile.
Her brows furrow into confusion as she looks around the street, most likely waiting for her mom to pick her up.
I got this.
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I place my helmet over my head to transform before I sling on my backpack under my cape. I look around to make sure there isn't anyone else around and dive towards her, swiftly swooping her off of her feet which causes her to gasp.
"What the fu—Freya, are you insane?" She screeched as I flew us away from the church and towards the clouds. "At least give a girl a warning, would 'ya!"
I make us hover mid-air with a laugh. "I wanted to see you!"
"O-Okay, you see me! Can we go somewhere where there's, I don't know, a flat ground!" She stammered, tightly wrapping her arms around my neck until she looked around the cloudy skies with her eyes wide. "Have we always been this high in the air?"
I fly us towards the American Dream tower and gently set us down on the balcony. She lets out a sigh of relief once her feet hit the ground and she quickly grabs a hold of the railing.
"Should I be offended that you think I'd ever drop you?" I curiously ask before I lean against the railing as well. "You know I've done this several times already."
"The real question should be why you randomly decided to swoop me off of my feet? Literally!" She exclaimed before turning to face me. "A phone call would've sufficed! Did you even try?"
I quickly shake my head with a smile, despite the fact she couldn't see my face. "I--uh, I wanted to talk to you. I thought it was better face-to-face."
She raises a brow in amusement. "You saw me an hour ago."
"Well yeah but--I mean, I don't think we finished our conversation." I awkwardly clear my throat. "There was something else."
Her smile shifts into concern. "What exactly did you want to talk about?"
"Remember when we were sparring in Courtney's basement? Where I...may have been a bit too close." I glance down at my hands in shame. "I just wanted to apologize for that."
"Freya--"
"Please, let me finish." I gently cut in and she gives a short nod. "I crossed a line, I went overboard, I get it. Things are sort of...complicated and you're still healing but I just want to get this out there before I chicken out and say nothing at all." I say before I grab her hands. "I know who I am."
Her brows furrow into confusion. "I don't think I follow?"
"I'm an over-analyzer. You are the first girl—oh who am I kidding, the first person to make me feel this way about anyone. I never overthought so much about what I say or look like to anyone! I never overanalyzed text messages, expressions, words, always feeling this sudden urgency to protect you when I know you're perfectly capable of protecting yourself, all of it! I'm an observer but for some reason, I can always get lost in your eyes filled with wonder, blocking out all of my surroundings so I could only focus on you. I don't even know what's been going on with me but all I know is that..." I trail off before I dig through my backpack. "It's in here somewhere. One second."
