He waited, perhaps how the moon waited for the sun.
And I chose to ask more of it-of the ceaseless hope we held in our palms. "Give me tonight, please."
"You've got tonight." It was an effortless sentence. A string of words spelling assurance, settl...
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"IT'S JUST SO HEART-BREAKING how she set us up against each other," Evan sighed. His legs were crossed on the floor, mine stretched out, and our thighs were touching—something I was acutely aware of. "Angel and Devil, really? We're at war now, Edwards."
I rolled my eyes.
Ania craned her neck to our direction, a massive wall of Lego in her hands. Her eyes were focused, fingers placing little bricks together to form into what she called a house. Evan and I had raised a confused eyebrow at that, but her innovation stayed undeterred despite our silent criticism. It was motivational, how much faith she had in herself regardless of what we said, because none of what she made even faintly resembled a house.
"Her mind is unparalleled," I mused, catching Evan's undivided attention. "That's some futuristic design you'll see when the aliens take over."
He let out a breathy laugh. "Well, thank God. That is disobeying all the possible laws of Physics."
As if feeling the judgement in the air, the little kid's head whipped in our direction, eyes sharp. "Help me!" She whined, and walked close enough to press the roof of her building to my palms. "Talk later!"
I scooted closer to her, as did Evan. I felt his fingers brush my shoulder, and found him smiling at me. "Where do you want me to put this?" Ignoring the heat his touch left on my skin, I asked Ania, who pointed at the very top of a wall lacking any foundation.
Evan laughed. "Ania, do you want the building to fall?"
"No," she admitted, looking defeated. "I want to stay in it. With you both."
I paused, hands hovering in the air. Evan plucked the pieces out of my grasp, messing her hair with his other hand. "Then we cannot let it fall, can we?"
She grinned at him. "Absomutely not!"
"It's absolutely, you genius." He grabbed her frame and tickled her side until she had fallen into the space between us, giggling with pure joy. "Did you tell angel about the airship you created last week?"
For some reason, him calling me the nickname she had so childishly given made my heart skip a beat. My eyes couldn't tear away from his face as Ania pulled her pride and joy—the airship, I supposed—and placed it on my legs. And despite the marvel of a creation sitting on my lap, I was fascinated with something else altogether: how Evan's eyes softened at every little action this four-year-old managed to do, and how his words carried affection beyond anything I'd heard from him.
Ania was ranting about her airship, hands flailing to her sides. My focus was still transfixed on the boy who did not know I was staring.
"Angel?" She caught me.
Evan's eyes snapped to mine, concern morphing in them. "What happened?"
I shook my head. His lips twisted in a frown, but he didn't press the question. Ania's eyes dwindled between us both, spotting something we couldn't see, and her hands clasped in finality.
