Between Two Skies

chapter thirty-four

Song suggestions:

• White Ferrari -Frank Ocean
• Fantastic Life — Cult Member
• Master of None — Beach House
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"Do you believe in love?" he asked simply, tilting his head once to the side.

What would he know about love? I wondered as I watched his face. "I don't know."

He shifted his weight, adjusting where he sat and inching a little closer to me despite the obvious strain it put on his injured shoulder, like the discomfort was worth it if it meant being closer. "You can't expect me to actually believe that."

I cleared my throat and looked away, focusing on the dark stretch of forest beyond us instead of his eyes. "I don't," I answered his question.

He studied my face in silence, his attention so focused it made my skin prickle, like he was peeling back layers I hadn't agreed to show.

"And why is that?" he finally spoke.

My head snapped back toward him. "Because love is a bluff."

His head tilted again, slower this time, like he was trying to see me from a different angle, trying to see my perspective.

"That's what you think?" His eyes moved between mine.

"Mhm." I nodded once. "Love is nothing more than people putting masks over their animal instincts." I swallowed hard, a tight pressure forming in my chest. "But I presume you already know that."

He scoffed quietly through his nose, his tongue pressing into his cheek as if he was holding back something he hadn't decided whether to say.

I narrowed my eyes slightly at that sound. "If people just accepted that it's just a question of biology, we'd suffer a lot less."

"And why's that?" he asked, a faint note of amusement slipping into his voice.

"Because then there'd be no more heartbreak," I snapped before catching myself, the edge in my tone sharper than I intended. I cleared my throat and forced my shoulders to relax.

I took a deep breath and looked up into the canopy above us, following the shapes of leaves barely visible against the night. "People need to believe that we're on the planet for a reason," I continued, steadying my voice, "not simply to copulate and breed." My gaze dropped to my hands resting on my knees. "We want more," I added quietly.

I felt him shift again, settling in as if he were listening more closely, giving the moment his full attention.

"We want to feel magic, feel the butterflies in our stomachs and blah blah blah..." I shook my head at the stupidity of the whole thing.

When I finally looked back at him, his face was tense and his eyes were watery, which I hadn't expected, as if he'd been pulled somewhere deep inside his own thoughts. He looked beautiful, but the realization that my words had made him feel whatever he was feeling now, that they had pulled that reaction from him, twisted something uncomfortable in my stomach, but I tried to push it aside.

"Is that what you truly believe," he asked quietly, "or what you were forced to believe while growing up?" His face softened as he said it, and I hated that more than anything, because it felt like pity, like he was seeing something broken in me that I hadn't given him permission to see.

I thought about answering, about defending myself, about saying something sharp enough to shut the conversation down, but my mind felt like a fog that had settled in, so instead I looked away and stayed silent, even though I could feel his gaze still fixed on me.