Brightly Burning(65)

“I’m not marrying Bianca.”

The breath left my lungs. My vision swam, inky-black universe and dying stars swirling together like a stew.

“I’m sorry; I think I misunderstood you. When are you marrying Bianca?”

“I’m not. Marrying Bianca.”

I heard him correctly that time, my head clear.

“Why not?” I rounded on his chair to find that he had stood, as if to lord over me.

“Because I don’t love her.”

“But I told you to marry her. That it was the right thing to do.”

“Right for whom? For me? For you? For this ship?” Hugo punctuated each word with a step, slinking like a cat until he’d boxed me in against the windows.

“For them!” I stopped him in his tracks, hand to his chest. “They’ll die without us.”

“That’s why I couldn’t do it,” Hugo said, eyes glued to my hand on his chest, like I’d burned him. “You’d sacrifice your own happiness for the sake of another’s. You’re incredible.”

“It’s nothing. Anyone would do the same.” I stole back my hand but didn’t budge from where I was. I wanted to make him uncomfortable with my closeness, box him in and call him out.

“No, they wouldn’t. You are good to a fault. You saw only two solutions, and you chose the one that would hurt you the most, because you thought it was the right thing to do.” He laughed at a joke I must have missed. “I wish you’d just asked me for a third option. It would have been a lot simpler.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The Ingrams will be fine. I’ve made arrangements with the Lady Liberty to take them on board.”

The weight of two dozen lives lifted off my shoulders.

“So, nothing has to change? I can stay on the Rochester?” I sounded as meek as I felt, relief wending its way up my spine. It was the best news I could have hoped for.

“Not if you don’t want to,” Hugo said. For the briefest moment, I lost my mind and senses to elation, throwing my arms around him in a hug I quickly regretted. I was too forward, too close, too—?then Hugo responded, and my panic took on a new form. He was hugging me back.

“Don’t you want to know why I don’t love Bianca?” he said into my hair.

“Because you met her?” I said into the rough fabric of his coat, sure he couldn’t hear me. He could, and he laughed.

“That’s why I love you, Stella. You have a good heart, but also a sharp tongue. The perfect combination.” He pulled away, while I stood frozen, repeating his words in my mind. That’s why I love you. Like a sister, he’d probably meant to finish. Right? But his expression, his eyes, were not brotherly at all.

“You’ve finally dispensed with your poker face,” he said, leaning down for some inexplicable reason.

And then he kissed me.


Chapter Twenty-Two


His lips were chapped, rough, but I didn’t care. I was far more focused on my own unmitigated panic. I’d never been kissed, not properly, and the last time I’d tried to kiss someone—?George—?I’d performed abysmally. I knew one thing. If I didn’t kiss him back, Hugo would stop, and I did not want that to happen. My entire body was celebrating, every inch of me on fire, beating wildly, shouting with joy. I raised myself up on my tiptoes and returned pressure in kind, parting my lips just so, like I’d seen at many a movie night. And—?oh! Hugo pulled me in closer, strong hand at the small of my back, and introduced his tongue into the mix.

Now my body went tight like a harp string, my mind in analytical overdrive. I didn’t pull back, but I didn’t do anything either. Hugo was trying to do . . . something with his tongue, and I let him, but that was about it. This was foreign, and I wasn’t sure I liked it. He must have sensed my reticence, because finally he pulled back, and I hated how relieved I felt. I’d gone from ecstasy to discomfort in the space of seconds, and I hated that I felt that way. Hugo had kissed me! He loved me!

And now he was looking at me expectantly, nervous and questioning. The panic came back.

“Thank you!” I chirped out, the first and only thing that came into my head. Then I bolted, dodging around the chairs and slamming my hand against the EXIT button, not stopping until I got to my quarters. It was the coward’s response, but one that felt wholly natural. I collapsed on my bed, breathing deep to slow my galloping heartbeat.

Had I just hallucinated that? Boys like Hugo didn’t fall in love with girls like me.

Love. My brain stumbled over the concept. He couldn’t possibly . . . I must have misunderstood his words, and maybe he’d been feverish when he’d kissed me—?

My comms pinged. Incoming message from Captain Hugo Fairfax. Frex. I pushed down my humiliation, currently manifesting as a full-body blush, and answered. We may have just crossed all sorts of lines, but Hugo was still my boss. I couldn’t ignore a direct hail.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

Silence like a yawning chasm stretched between us. We were off to a great start.

“Listen, I’m sorry—”

“I shouldn’t have—”

We stumbled over each other, laughed, then plunged back into awkward, inert nothingness. I stared across the room to the triptych, the winking eyes and sly smile I’d given Hugo unfitting for the awkward boy hanging in my ear. It was time for me to be the “bold girl” Hugo was always calling me with that maddening grin.