She laughed, watery and broken. "This is insane."
"Yeah."
"I'm supposed to be competing with you. Proving I'm better."
"You are better. At tactics. At planning. At actually showing up to morning training on time."
"Then why—"
"Because better doesn't mean incompatible." I pulled her closer, until our foreheads were touching. "You can be smarter than me and still fit."
"Fit where?"
I touched her chest, right over her heart. The drain pulsed stronger at the contact, syncing our heartbeats. "Here."
She covered my hand with hers, fingers intertwining. "If I do this—if I actually let myself—"
"What?"
"I need to know it's not just the drain. That you actually want me."
"I want you."
"How do I know you're not just saying that because—"
I kissed her hard enough to shut her up. Poured everything into it. The want that had been building since Friday. The frustration at her constant walls. The weird protective thing that happened when she looked at me like I might leave.
