With Fear or Without

16- Ugh, Clichés

Cassian? Cassian, can you hear me? We're here, just like you said...

Cleo sat on the soft grass, her legs crossed under her, her thick hair shining around her shoulders in the cool daylight. Her head was in her hands as she repeated the name over and over in her head, feeling utterly ridiculous.

Cassian! If this was a joke, I swear... Cassian!!

Nothing. Not that Cleo had really expected anything to happen in the first place. She groaned, untangling her legs and flopping onto her back, one arm draped across her eyes to block to sun.

"Gimme the note, I wanna see," Andy's voice came from somewhere above Cleo. Without looking, Cleo dug in her pocket and produced a scrap of paper the same size as the first with the same handwriting, though slightly neater and easier to read this time around. Holding it up in Andy's general direction, Cleo felt the note being taken from her hand.

""Middle of Grant Park, by the water,"" she read. ""Five o'clock, call my name in your head. Trust me, I'll hear you. Cassian.""

"There he goes again," Charlie sighed. "Trust me! You barely met me and I might be insane, but trust me!" they mocked dramatically.

Cleo couldn't help but smile, and she heard an amused snort from Andy before she asked, "Do you think he can actually hear you?"

"I don't know, guys," Cleo said from behind her forearm. "Nothing's happened, but it's only been like five minutes."

"Probably a good thing he can't."

At that, Cleo uncovered her face and propped herself up on her elbows. She looked to Charlie, who was sitting next to her, leaning back on their hands with their legs crossed in front of them. Their necklaces gleamed in the light and a backpack (smaller than yesterday's) hung over one shoulder.

"What does that mean?"

"Come on, you can't say you haven't thought about it," Charlie teased, grinning. They raised their eyebrows and said with fake wistfulness, "About him."

Cleo blushed involuntarily. She glanced at Andy for help, who was pressing her lips together and trying not to laugh. Cleo looked back to Charlie, whose expression hadn't changed. She opened her mouth for a moment before whispering, "I have not," and dropping back onto the grass.

Charlie laughed heartily, and Cleo felt loose blades of grass being sprinkled over her face.

She bit her lip. Of course it had crossed her mind. He had appeared in her literal dreams, for heaven's sake, how could she not? He was bad looking either, which didn't help...

She pushed the thought away. She knew basically nothing about him, past his name and that he spent the night before last in a prison cell. Oh, and there was the possibility that he wasn't entirely human. They didn't know who he was at all, or if he could be trusted.

Cleo also hated the stereo-typicality of it. Of liking him. Of them ever ending up... as anything. It was plain annoying. If Cleo read a story about the situation they were in (and it definitely was feeling more and more like a fantasy novel) she would roll her eyes and pretend to gag and the thought of their characters being written to fall in love. It was boring, predictable. She didn't like him. She didn't.

Still, there was something comforting about not getting a response from him. The idea that he could hear her thoughts was, to say the least, mortifying.

"Do you think they're gods?" Andy asked out of the blue. "This Hope and Fear?"

Cleo appreciated the distraction from her snowballing thoughts. She uncovered her face, blowing glass off her forehead and arm. "I don't know. He called them..." she trailed off, searching for the term Cassian had used.