US (Formerly The After Effect - Book 2)

8 - Fireside

//i know so many of you have been asking and waiting for this to come.//

Fire is mysterious. Orange. Blue. White if it's hot enough. It's strange, but fascinating. I've never truly grasped the magic behind the creation of fire. It's not your typical element. One minute it's there, the next minute it's not. Just like life.

The revolutionaries have done a spectacular job igniting it and keeping it steady. I've never seen a fire the size of me before, and yet I am sitting right beside it, on a damp log with water most certainly seeping through my too-tight jeans. It's been over an hour since Travis and the rest of the hunting squad left, and yet my nerves aren't shot like I expected them to be. Maybe because Travis pissed me off a little too much.

Jada is on the opposite side of the fire, chatting away with people. I can't see her well because of the height of the flame, but I know she's there. I watched her sit down and made sure I wasn't near her. She's received enough attention from others. She doesn't need any from me.

I keep my mind wide open for the others to tune into my head if they wish, because honestly, I feel like ranting, and am kind enough to not do it out loud. If one of the Five hear me out, great. Unless it's Brink. He can jump off a bridge.

"Thanks," I hear telepathically, and flinch in my seat. My eyes jump to his, the color of fire reflecting in his pupils make his appear green. He's sitting a couple spaces down from my right, looking all serious as usual. He had gone out of his way to hear what was going on inside my head. "You know, it was interesting to listen, until that sweet little comment," he admits.

I shrug, not caring what he thinks, and continue to concentrate on the fire as the height of the flame flares up and simmers down.

When we all took seats, no one dared to sit next to me, probably because they expected me to have the seat reserved for my lover boy. Not true. He's busy. He's gone. Part of me wants to be alone anyway, but the yearn for other company is also present. Maybe if Travis thinks I am enjoying my time away from him, he'll reconsider taking me on his trips, or better yet, include me more. I figure him of all people would understand how it feels to be left out. After all, he was the first to help me become in the know back at the HQ during our "interrogation" hours.

Screw him. I don't want to be alone just because he's gone. I hate people getting that impression of me. I'm sure they all think I'm dependent on Travis. When he's gone, I'm alone on my own stupid log, getting my pants soggy.

Brink gets to his feet and makes his way over to me. "So you wouldn't mind if I joined you and your wet pants?" he says to my head.

"Touch me and you're dead," I lowly growl as he plunks down beside me.

He throws his head back and chuckles. "Believe me, I don't want to."

I grit my teeth. "Thanks. Appreciate the compliment."

"Oh come on. You would've hated what I said whether it was what you wanted to hear or not. Give me a break."

I shove his shoulder. "Never."

Brink rolls his eyes. "Whatever. You'll let it go eventually."

"Let what go? You being an asshole twenty-four seven?"

He shrugs. "Sure. I call it something a little different, but to each their own, right?"

I couldn't believe him. "Yeah? What do you call it, Brink, huh? Because last I checked, pretending to be my boyfriend, erasing my memory, and torturing my real boyfriend are things only jerks do. But please, enlighten me," I retort. I pick up a twig from the ground and throw it into the fire, refusing to meet his gaze. My glare would be deadly.