Free Illuminate by Aimee Agresti Page B

lightheaded. He wore a black suit, white button-down shirt, and a skinny black tie. Everyone here was so dressed up all the time. His hair, which had been so smoothly slicked back earlier, was looser now, a blond forelock draping his left eye.
    “Welcome to the ring of fire.”
    “Hi. Um, thanks.” I struggled to get the words out. I felt my lips trembling and pursed them together to hold them still.
    “And happy birthday,” he said, slowly, in that voice that could lull me to a deep and warm sleep.
    “Thanks. How did you know?” I could only look at him in short bursts. I would look for a second or two and then fix my eyes quickly somewhere else, letting them refocus, before locking on him again. He made me too nervous. A heat rose to my face.
    “We know everything.” His gray eyes beaming at me with a hint of that mischief I’d seen earlier today. “And, I’m afraid, Haven—” I was unable to mask my amazement that, yes, he had in fact remembered my name. “Champagne”—he held up the glass he had taken from me—“is too ordinary for a day like this. Here.” He handed me a goblet with a blue flame dancing on top of the liquid inside. This drink en flambé had apparently been in his hands the whole time and I just hadn’t noticed it; that’s how distracted I was by him.
    “Wow, thanks.” I took it in both hands and watched the flame lick at the air, flickering between shades of blue and orange. What was I supposed to do with this? I worried I might somehow set fire to myself—I was clearly a little shaky. His arm brushed against mine again. “Um, I’m sixteen actually,” I blurted out. I don’t know why. I could not have been less cool. It was a struggle to keep my face from twisting into some kind of freakish, distorted cringe. My biggest problem, I scolded myself, was getting in my own way, derailing anything remotely exciting that might possibly happen.
    “I know. Cheers.” He took a swig from my old champagne glass. “I won’t tell if you won’t.” There was no way he was twenty-one either. No. Way.
    “What exactly is this anyway?” I tried to make my tone as light and carefree as possible in an effort to redeem myself. This? Oh, sure, it’s nothing. I drink fiery cocktails every day.
    “A house specialty. You’ll love it.”
    “I guess you don’t worry much about fire codes around here, huh?”
    “Obviously not.” He laughed and took another sip of champagne. “So, go on, make a wish.”
    A wish. Well, where to begin? I watched it burn and glanced quickly at his face. My heart quivered when I found that he was still looking at me. “Umm . . .”
    “Relax, you’ve got some time. Let it burn itself out. It’ll burn off the alcohol.” He raised his eyebrow at me again, as he had that morning.
    “Ohhhh. Good to know.”
    “Don’t worry, we play by the rules here. Most of the time.” He drained his champagne glass and reached across me to set it on the table.
    “Glad to hear it.” Nothing more enticing than a girl who follows the rules.
    “Now be careful with that,” Lucian said in a light, almost mocking tone. With one quick motion, he flicked my long hair over my shoulder and tucked a strand behind my ear, out of the way from the drink’s small flame. I had to focus to firm up my grip on the chalice. “Enjoy,” he said, rising to his feet. He swooped down toward me and, with his hand set lightly on my chin, kissed my cheek. The shock of it, of his warm lips against my flushed skin, sent every bit of feeling rushing to my head. I was sure the blush was overtaking my face. I saw it and felt it all in slow motion, assigning a weight to the action, something important and special between us. But I was smart enough to know that his days were likely filled with millions of kisses like this. Weren’t they? He slipped away as quickly as he had appeared, absorbed into the crowd on the platform and then down the stairs and gone. I stared after him, not really seeing