“You are old,” Laurel said, snickering.

Her mom raised an eyebrow. “That’s quite enough out of you, missy.”

“So, Tamani, tell me about being a sentry.”

“Well—”

“Oh, Mark, don’t pester him about work on a holiday.”

“I don’t mind, really,” Tamani said. “I love my job. And it’s basically my life at the moment, holiday or not.”

Laurel’s dad peppered Tamani with questions, mostly about Tamani’s position as a sentry, then moving on to growing up in Avalon, what sorts of foods they ate, and several questions about faerie economics that Tamani couldn’t answer. By the time her mom finally pulled out the pie, Laurel was feeling more than a little awkward and Tamani had only managed to clear about half his plate—which had not been dished high to begin with. Laurel longed for an opportunity to smuggle him away before her dad asked too many more weird questions about Avalon’s gross domestic product or political hierarchy.

“Let the boy eat,” Laurel’s mom scolded, shutting her husband up with a huge piece of pumpkin pie, smothered in whipped cream. For Laurel and Tamani she had small sorbet dishes filled with a sweet frozen fruit concoction.

“We usually watch a movie after dessert,” Laurel’s dad said to Tamani. “Care to join us?”

“I’m actually going to take Tamani on a walk,” Laurel said, snatching up her opportunity before Tamani could respond. “But we should be back in time to catch the end.”

“Personally,” her dad said, rubbing his belly, “I would have to go on a waddle.”

Laurel rolled her eyes and groaned. Parents. She grabbed Tamani’s arm and practically dragged him toward the front door, wanting to escape before anyone else said anything.

“Anxious to have me all to yourself?” Tamani murmured with a grin as the door closed.

“I may have underestimated how awkward that was going to be.”

“Awkward?” Tamani said, looking sincere. “I didn’t think it was awkward. Well, at first,” he admitted. “But meeting new people is always like that. Personally, I found the whole thing to be much less awkward than I expected. They’re nice.”

They wandered aimlessly for a while before Laurel realized her feet were heading down the familiar route to school. Instead of turning a different way, Laurel headed for the football field and climbed the bleachers. When she reached the top, she faced away from the field and held on to the railing, letting the wind caress her face and tangle her hair. Tamani hesitated, then came to stand beside her.

“I’m sorry you have to go through all this,” he said, not looking at her. “You know, when I started as a sentry, I had pretty mild expectations. Some sentries go their entire lives never seeing a troll. You were always supposed to live a pretty normal life out at the cabin, come back to Avalon once you’d inherited the land, and . . . after that, my job would be pretty easy.”

“Jamison said the same thing,” Laurel said, looking over her shoulder at Tamani. “About me just living a normal human life until it was time to come back to Avalon. I guess nothing’s ever as easy as we hope.” She wasn’t just talking about the trolls, either. Had they really expected her to walk away from her human life without so much as a backward glance?

“No,” Tamani agreed, “but I keep right on hoping.” He shifted, snugging in close behind her. He placed his right hand on the railing beside her, and, after a moment’s hesitation, placed his left hand over hers, his chest cradling her back.

She knew she should shrug his arms off, walk away, break contact, but she couldn’t. She didn’t want to. And for once, she didn’t make herself. She stood, unmoving, feeling him so close, and just drank it in—his presence as invigorating as the breeze across her face.

It seemed so natural that she almost didn’t notice his cheek press against her neck, his chin tilt until it was his lips meeting her skin. But she couldn’t ignore the soft kisses that trailed up her neck and touched her ear; the fiery sensation that coursed through her, begging her to turn and face him, to give him the permission he was silently seeking. She could hardly breathe with the weight of the wanting. Then his hand was at her waist, turning her gently toward him. He kissed the very corner of her mouth and sighed before brushing his lips softly against hers.

Summoning every ounce of self-control she had, Laurel whispered, “I can’t.”

“Why?” Tamani asked, his forehead pressed to hers.

“I just can’t,” Laurel said, turning away.

But he took both of her hands and pulled her back, looking into her eyes. “Don’t mistake me,” he said, so gently, so softly. “I will do anything you ask. I simply want to know why. Why do you feel so bound?”

“I promised myself. I—I have to make a decision. And being with you, kissing you, it makes my thinking fuzzy. I need a clear head.”

“I’m not asking you to make a decision,” Tamani said. “I just want to kiss you.” He slid his hand up her neck, cupping the side of her face. “Do you want to kiss me?”

She nodded, very slightly. “But—”

“Then you can,” he said. “And tomorrow I won’t expect you to have made your decision. Sometimes,” he said, bringing a fingertip to her bottom lip, “a kiss is simply a kiss.”

“I don’t want to string you along,” Laurel said, her voice weak.