Interlude 2: To Be Stolen (Em)

Lips. Soft and gentle and yielding, pressing eagerly against mine. Warmth and desire and the overwhelming scent of sweet pine, rain, and something indistinctly floral. Mine, a part of me yells. Mineminemine.

The football has dropped from my hands in my distraction, and impacts fall on me as three different players from the opposing team throw themselves on top of me.

I’m too dazed to even care.

I remember last Saturday, when Cecilia had shown up with Bas, how determined I was to not care about either of them.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Glenn asked me then, and I’d genuinely meant my reply.

“Do what you want,” I said, thinking that if Glenn managed to steal Secilia out right from under Bas’s smug nose, then at least he’d understand: this girl doesn’t care about us, neither of us.

But even with his freshly broken nose, Glenn managed to give me a look of surprise. I remember feeling slightly resentful, then, that this human had the audacity to doubt me. Bas was still my brother—my l