40: AINSLEY

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I take Elaina’s advice to heart. First I rearrange our room, affixing my bed to Luke’s and replacing the single mattress with a double. I need some dang space, and the bigger mattress means I won’t have to be on top of him when we sleep. He’s weirdly receptive to the idea, almost like he’s won some agreement from me to continue our connection while I wait like a pining dog for his scraps. Only, I’m not in any freaking way pining, and I have no intention of waiting. I’m just being realistic about needing the release. I’ve given up on wanting more from the miserable scut.

Sleep is hard at first with a single handheld connection between us. For about a week straight, I still find myself waking in the night curled around him on instinct, but I promptly extract myself from that hold each time despite his trying to wrangle me back to him, and those unconscious unions are happening less and less. I reckon I’ll be able to wean myself off my addiction to him given enough time.

The second piece of advice Elaina gave me revolved around expanding my friend pool. While the Registry isn’t a place I’ve ever wanted to spend my time, I force myself out of my comfort zone for the sake of my sparks.

Grady adores Fiona. Spending time with her means getting to spend more time with my bestie. Plus, Atlas is a regular there which means I get to see that stuffy squib more too. Everything is turning up bullseyes, and I’m feeling pretty dang good about my progress.

Grady, Ty, Cam, Witley, Bryson and I are in the library when Fiona arrives waving a piece of paper in the air. “It’s started!” she squooshes.

Everyone at the table cries cheers of joy, but as I’m new to the group, I have no freaking idea what we’re so excited about. “What’s started?” I ask quietly.

“The petition,” she clonks, placing the paper down on the table.

“A petition for what?” I slamfire.

“To open spark resource materials to all of Scintilla,” she answers enthusiastically. “If this petition gains enough support, they’ll remove the block they currently have in place restricting spark text to Regulars.”

“To people, you mean,” I snick. “They’re people just like the rest of us.”

“That’s exactly the point,” she squeaks. “There shouldn’t be restrictions for anyone.”

“I’ll sign it,” I quickfire.

“You will?” There’s clear hope in her eyes that lights my heart.

Of course I’ll sign it. I’ll sign anything that breaks down the horsecrap barriers S.W.O.R.D. keeps erecting between us and everyone else. “I’ll support anything you advocate for, Fiona,” I report, “especially when it involves tearing down walls. I’m a bit of a wrecking ball as you well know.”

Fiona clacks a laugh and hands me a pen so I can write my name. I pass the paper around the table, and everyone eagerly joins in.

“I thought your family had a construction business before, not demolition,” Ty rumbles.

I shrug. “We call that prep work. Sometimes you have to tear stuff down to build it better. I was never good at the building part, but wrecking stuff? That’s my sweet spot.”

“Beckett, look!” Fiona gets excited again as a new body arrives. “It’s starting!” They wrap her in their arms and spin her around so hard I’m amazed she doesn’t hurl all over their shoes.

The first thing I notice about them are their brown-grey eyes, meaning they aren’t a sheath or wielder. They also aren’t a charge. I know all those squibs. So, they have to be a special pass holder like Atlas or an Orderly. Likely the latter.

The second thing I notice is how the top four buttons of their dress shirt are undone. There’s a tuft of hair pushing out the top that wants me to run my fingers through it. I refrain from doing that. Barely.

The third thing I notice is they’re talking to me through perfectly plump lips that surround a mouthful of gleaming white teeth which I get a clear view of when those lips transition into a bright smile.

Grady elbows me to get my attention. “The heck?” I snarl at him.

“I said my name’s Beckett, he/him,” the man repeats, and my head twirls back around to meet the voice, “and who might you be?”

“Ainsley, she/her,” I reply in a tone that sounds nothing like my regular one. It’s softer, almost musical, and lacking any of the rough edges I’m used to.

He lifts a brow. “You’re not exactly what my brother described.”

“Who’s your brother?”

“Pritchett.”

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That shakes me out of my daze. “Funny, Pritchett never mentioned he had a brother. Then again, his mouth is usually too full of your dad’s junk to do anything but suck.”

“The Orderman,” he finishes in a perfect Pritchett impersonation.

Everyone laughs, and I would too, but my mouth is being weirdly resistant suddenly. It just hitches up at the side. Frig, he’s pretty. It’s messing with my head.

“Beckett’s helping me understand the Order process,” Fiona explains, “so I can start seeing through some important changes to how things are done at an administrative level.”

“You’ve picked a lofty starting goal,” I note.

“People are already protesting for this specific change,” Beckett counters. “It’s a great lead-in example for Fiona. Understanding the requirements is a lot easier when you can witness them in action.”

My scopes magnify hopefully. “Riots?”

“Peaceful protests,” he corrects me. “Violence can’t ever invoke long-term change.”

“Agree to disagree,” I dryfire.

He doesn’t back down from me or seem bothered that I don’t agree. Instead, he pulls up a chair beside me and scoots it eerily close like he has exactly zero personal boundaries in the same way I don’t. I like it. I like it too much.

“Peaceful protests allow Scintilla citizens to show their support,” he states. “Riots have the opposite effect, proving why division is needed.”

He isn’t wrong, and I might’ve told him that, if my tongue hadn’t dried up in my mouth from my fire spark racing through me, devouring all the excess water in one running pass. Luke? Luke who?

I turn back to Fiona. “If you have an online link, send it to me. I can forward it to my brothers.”

“Atlas will sign the petition when he comes later,” she clinks.

“That’s a great idea, actually. An online presence will increase exposure.” Beckett reaches across the table to place his hand on mine. I find my hand eager to stay there, wanting to be held in place by his.

What the heck is wrong with me? Are my sparks exerting their will over me again? It has to be that. I don’t get all swoony over guys. Or do I? Yeah, no. No, I do not. Screw this.

“Set it up, and send me the link,” I clip. “Atlas might be the brother you want to verify your paperwork, but for exposure, you want popularity. For that, you need Adley. People adore him. Look.” I pull out my Sparklet and click onto his profile page, handing it over to Fiona. “He has over a hundred thousand followers. Is that enough?”

“It’s amazing exposure! You’ve helped so much. Well done.” Beckett squeezes my hand. His praise sends my air spark whirling around in my head, making me dizzy. Okay, that’s definitely a spark swoon. How do I make it stop?

Wait. Do I want it to stop? Didn’t I want to fill that gaping hole in my life Luke refuses to fill? Is this the replacement I was seeking? It can’t be. Beckett has no sparks. He can’t replace a dang thing. Can probably fill a hole though…

“Why does his profile picture look like that?” Fiona asks, redirecting my twirling thoughts.

“Oh, that...” I hangfire.

Grady howls with laughter beside me.

Fiona frowns.

“Archie went on a mission to gather pictures of all my family.”

“Every doggone picture has a hairy haunch in it,” Grady yips.

“There’s no exposed porcelain in this picture,” Fiona clatters.

“Not anymore,” Grady snaps, “but before I put star stickers over those mirror shades he’s wearing, there were clearly two haunches in the reflection.”

I was sincerely impressed by Archie’s latest conquest. Though, since Dad’s smile is the only one missing to complete my Coterie picture set, I made Archie promise not to grace me with anyone else’s butt in the final photo. Butt plus Bert is a hard no from me.

Fiona hands me back my Sparklet, still confused why we think that crap is so freaking funny. News flash, Fiona. It’s because we’re immature. Adulting is overrated.

But I’m determined to gain her favour, so I shift the topic back to what will interest her. “Are you getting involved with the protests?”

Fiona squidges up her nose. “Oh, I don’t know.”

“Okay, well if you decide you want to join one, or set something new up, my brother Archie would be a good lead for that. And if you want to give a speech or something, Asher would be perfect to help write it.”

“How many brothers do you have again?”

“Just the four.” I click a wistful sigh. “You have siblings, right?”

“Yeah, but it isn’t the same.” She grimaces. “They’re younger, and we aren’t close like that.”

“You could be,” I backstop, not understanding why she’d refute that sort of available connection. “Where do you fit on the sibling ladder?”

“I’m the oldest.”

“Right, being the first is tough. It comes with a lot of added responsibilities,” Beckett offers, sounding like he has experience in that area. I’ll bet he has experience in a lot of areas I wouldn’t mind learning more about.

Fiona clackles. “Don’t I know it. Being first is hard to manage. I’m not comfortable in the spotlight. I do my best work in the shadows.”

“But you’ve had a lot of awesome firsts here already, Fiona. Look how well you’ve managed those,” I persist. “First to sparkle. First at Singularity. First to start a petition to invoke real positive change as a first year charge.”

Fiona blushes, and it reminds me of Grady when I pay him a compliment.

Since when do I have emotional diarrhea of the mouth? Is this Beckett’s fault? Does he have some super sniper sparks that shot me dead bang in the feels?

“Think of what a great example you are for them,” I bleed some more, “and of the opportunities you’re awarding them by what you’re doing.”

“They’re such pests,” she clanks.

“I’m the youngest, and I can’t imagine my brothers really had a lot of freaking joy about welcoming a little crybaby into the world either, especially when she took their mom, so maybe give them a chance to grow on you, even if they are pests,” I continue bleeding out.

Fiona squinches her brow.

“Sorry, that wasn’t meant to sound so dark,” I suppressive fire. “I just meant I grew on them, sort of like mould. Now I’m freaking everywhere, and they’ll never get rid of me. They could’ve hated me, resented me for taking her from them. Instead, they loved me all the more, cherished me like treasure. In a way, I sort of was since I’m carrying around the last piece of her.”

This is worse than I thought. Are warm fuzzies contagious? It has to be Beckett, right? He’s somehow made me drop the drawbridge to my feelings castle. There’s something special about him that seems to be bringing out the bleeding heart in me. Emotional exsanguination. What a way to die.

“Are you sure you’re not sparkling?” I narrow my scopes at him suspiciously.

He gives me all the teeth again, and I can’t help mirroring his smile.

“Maybe not a Regular guy but definitely an ordinary one,” he insists.

But that’s a lie. There’s nothing ordinary about him at all.

Dim side: he can’t do salty balls all to stop my sparks from overfilling.

Bright side: he can definitely plug a hole. I’m sure of it.