JUNE MILLER POV
I was trying to be cool. I really, truly was. But it's hard to be "cool" when you're standing next to two people who look like they were custom-built in a lab for the sole purpose of making the rest of the human race look like a rough draft.
Adam was walking beside me, his hands shoved into his pockets. He was trying so hard to act "natural," but he moved with this terrifying, graceful stillness, like a tiger trying to pretend it was a house cat. And then there was Eve. She was currently hovering around a souvenir stand, picking up a snow globe of the Jorgen City skyline with the same expression an archaeologist might use to look at a fossilized dinosaur dropping.
"So," I said, nudging Adam's arm. "How's the 'investigation' going, Mr. Scientist? Found any humans yet?"
Adam looked down at me, and even though I'd seen it a dozen times now, the gold in his eyes still made my stomach do a little flip. "The data is... inconsistent," he said, his voice dropping into that serious, velvety tone. "The social structures here are far more chaotic than the Diamond District. People are... louder. They touch each other more. And the olfactory profile is significantly more complex."
"That's 'smell,' Adam. You can just say 'smell.' And yeah, it's the pier. It smells like salt and fried dough. It's called character."
"Character," he repeated, testing the word out like it was a foreign currency. "I will add that to the report."
"Oh, hush with the reports!" I grabbed his hand. I didn't even think about it. I just reached out and laced my fingers with his.
The moment I did, I felt a jolt. It wasn't like a static shock; it was a wave of pure, radiating warmth that traveled from his palm straight up my arm. It felt like standing in a patch of sunlight on the first day of spring. Adam froze, his entire body going rigid. I looked up and saw the gold in his eyes pulse, a soft glow flickering beneath the surface.
"Is this... part of the instruction?" he whispered, staring down at our joined hands like I'd just handed him a live bird.
"It's called holding hands, Goldie," I teased, though my face was definitely turning the same color as the neon-pink note I'd thrown at him. "People do it when they like each other. Or when they don't want the other person to get lost in a crowd. Since you're clearly a flight risk, I'm sticking with the second one."
"I see," he said. He didn't pull away. Instead, his fingers slowly, tentatively tightened around mine. His skin was incredibly smooth and way warmer than a normal person's should be. "I find the sensation... not entirely unpleasant."
"High praise," I laughed, pulling him toward the end of the pier. "Come on. Popcorn first, then I'm taking you to the arcade."
"The arcade?"
"A temple of digital frustration. You'll love it."
We reached 'Old Salty's' stand. The smell of caramel and toasted corn was thick enough to chew on. I bought a jumbo bag—the kind that's big enough to use as a pillow—and handed it to Eve, who had finally abandoned the snow globes to join us.
"Try it," I challenged her.
Eve reached in, plucked a single kernel with two fingers like she was handling a delicate circuit board, and popped it into her mouth. She chewed slowly, her sharp eyes narrowing. Then, her eyebrows shot up.
"It's... an assault of glucose and sodium," she announced, her hand immediately diving back into the bag for a fistful. "It's illogical. Why would you coat fiber in liquid sugar?"
"Because it tastes like happiness, Eve," I said, grinning.
I held the bag out to Adam. He took a handful, his movements careful and precise. He ate one, his expression shifting from analytical to genuinely surprised.
"It is... vibrant," he said, a small, real smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "It has a high energy-density. I can see why your species favors it."
"My species? You talk like you're an alien," I said, bumping my shoulder against his.
"Sometimes," Adam said, his gaze drifting out toward the Gray Sea, "it feels that way. We don't... we don't get out much, June. The Father is very protective. The world we know is mostly glass, metal, and light."
"Well, welcome to the world of wood, wind, and sticky fingers," I said.
We spent the next hour wandering. I showed them how to use the rusted telescopes (Eve complained that the resolution was "sub-par"), and I dragged them into the 'Star-Catcher' arcade.
I gave Adam a handful of tokens and pointed him toward a racing game. Watching him play was the funniest thing I'd ever seen. He sat in the plastic car seat with his back perfectly straight, gripping the steering wheel like he was navigating a starship through an asteroid field. He didn't just play the game; he dominated it. His reflexes were so fast the screen could barely keep up.
"I have achieved the 'High Score,'" he said, stepping off the machine while the 'GAME OVER' screen flashed a series of numbers that shouldn't have been possible. "The physics engine in that simulation is deeply flawed. It doesn't account for centrifugal force correctly."
"You're a nerd, Adam," I said, laughing so hard I had to lean against a Skee-ball machine for support. "A big, golden-eyed nerd."
"I believe the term is 'intellectually superior,'" Eve chimed in from the air-hockey table, where she was currently obliterating a group of three teenage boys who looked like they were about to cry. "Now, where is this 'ocean view' you promised? I want to see if the water is as stagnant as the atmosphere."
I led them to the very end of the pier, past the noise of the arcade and the smell of the deep-fryers. Here, the railing was cold and slick with salt spray. The Gray Sea stretched out forever, the waves churning into white foam against the jagged rocks below.
The sun was starting to dip lower, turning the water into a sheet of hammered copper. For a long time, none of us spoke. We just stood there, three kids silhouetted against the horizon.
"It's big," Adam whispered. He was leaning against the railing, the wind ruffling his white shirt. He looked at the horizon with a longing that made my heart ache. "The Father says the Rift is like the ocean. He says it's deep, and dark, and full of things we aren't meant to understand. But this... this is beautiful."
"The Rift isn't this," I said, stepping up beside him. I looked at the way the light caught the gold in his eyes, making them look like twin suns. "The Rift takes things away. The ocean... it just is. It doesn't want anything from you, Adam. You don't have to fight it. You just have to watch it."
Adam turned to look at me. The 'Prince' mask was completely gone now. He just looked like a boy who was seeing the world for the first time. He reached out, his hand hovering near my face, his thumb grazing my cheekbone. His touch was so light, so gentle, that I almost stopped breathing.
"Thank you, June Miller," he said. "For the popcorn. And for the... character."
"Anytime, Goldie," I whispered.
Behind us, Eve let out a loud, exaggerated yawn. "Okay, the 'human condition' is getting a little too mushy for my taste. My phone says the SUV is two minutes away. If we're late, the Old Man is going to put us back on the 'chalk and sadness' diet for a month."
I felt the bubble burst, but it was a soft landing. I looked at the two of them—the boy who felt like summer and the girl who was a storm in a slate-gray coat. They were leaving, back to their world of glass and secrets. But as Adam followed Eve toward the parking lot, he stopped and looked back at me.
"I have the device now, June," he said, lifting his new phone. "I will... call you. Frequently."
"You better," I said, crossing my arms to keep from shaking. "And Adam?"
"Yes?"
"Try to stay human for a while. It suits you."
He nodded once, a sharp, elegant movement. Then he turned and disappeared into the crowd, his white shirt a bright spark in the gathering twilight.
I stood on the pier until the black SUV had long since vanished. My hand still felt warm where he'd held it. I looked down at the empty popcorn bag in my hand and smiled.
The world was still full of monsters. The 'wool' was still waiting in the dark. But for one afternoon, on a rusted pier in Sector 4, I had gone on a date with a boy who could move mountains. And all it cost me was a jumbo bag of kettle corn and a little bit of my heart.