“Was that all you needed, Father? I promised the princess another dance.” Theory’s eye never left mine as he spoke.

“You sure seem smitten. Here I was wasting my time trying to match you with Maxine.” Wyatt barked a laugh. 

My eyes darted to Wyatt’s; what I saw there was a challenge. He was taunting me, taunting Theory. This whole time, he had been talking down to his son in front of everyone here. I tried to ignore it, to push past it, but fuck this guy. This asshole was trying to mess with what was MINE. I felt like I was about to burn from the inside out, not from embarrassment, but from sheer rage. All I could hear was a sharp ringing in my ears. The next thing I knew, the little bit of wine left in my glass began to boil as the glass started to turn red-hot in my hand. 

“Apologies for your wasted efforts, Father. It seems that I’ll be too preoccupied to keep Maxine or anyone else company for the foreseeable future. This little princess is quite the handful…” Theory’s declaration began to douse the flames that ached to leap from just beneath my skin. My glare was torn from Wyatt as Theory hooked my chin with his thumb and index finger, making me meet his eyes. In an instant, my body cooled. I blinked, trying to collect myself. I could faintly hear my mom steering the conversation to more neutral territory.

I opened my mouth, but realized that I couldn’t adequately explain or excuse my behavior. At a festival promoting peace and harmony, I got angry enough to use magic that could have hurt someone, and over what? I had no right to get that angry. I just met this man a few hours ago. What the hell is wrong with me?

I looked down at the glass in my hand, noting that it was now deformed. Indentations formed where my fingers had been clenching the base of the glass and the top of the stem. I looked back up at Theory with my eyes filled with panic. He was holding me… I could have burned him! That thought weighed on me more heavily than my other worries or the shift in the group’s conversation. 

“Show me your hands,” I demanded in a shaky whisper. 

“I’m fine,” Theory promised with an amused expression, instantly releasing my face and holding his hands palm up for me to examine. Relief flooded me at the sight of his unmarred flesh. He wiggled his fingers and smirked, “See?”

“What were you thinking? I could have hurt you!” I hissed quietly at him. My mind was a mess of emotions and anxieties, but Theory suddenly seemed to be enjoying the situation. To avoid facing those who witnessed my silent outburst, remove evidence, and calm my nerves, I called over a waiter. 

“I had a feeling that you wouldn’t, and even if you did, I heal quickly.” Theory shrugged, downing his drink as the waiter drew near. I stared at him, dumbfounded. He plucked my glass from my hand and grinned at its new form, as if it were a work of art to behold. He exchanged our glasses for new ones. After handing me more wine, he clinked our glasses and winked. His mood shift started to piss me off. 

“What the fuck are you so happy about?” I mumbled my annoyance into my wine.

Theory beamed at me before bringing his lips to my ear and whispering, “How could I not be happy when my little princess gets angry and worried on my behalf? You melting glass and shooting a death glare at my dad was actually pretty sexy, so don’t worry about it.”

I nearly spit out my drink at the last part. Luckily, nothing spilled. I swerved my face toward him in shock before realizing just how close he still was. Our faces were barely a few inches apart. I let out a small gasp before quickly turning away. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I decided it would be best not to respond. 

As I tuned back into our parents’ conversation, I heard them discussing some of the issues that would be addressed during the SPC Council meetings. I was just happy that I wouldn’t be made to attend them this year. Seeing that they were able to converse just fine without us, I hastily decided to take their immersion in the topic as an opportunity. Mentally willing my parents to forgive me, I snagged Theory’s hand, and we faded into the thrumming crowd. I led us through the packed hall, into the walkway, and out the eastern exit. I paused, trying to catch my breath.

“Where are we headed?” Theory chuckled, obviously enjoying my spontaneous escape plan.

“Um… I think I heard someone mention that you could find a library, pool, spa, a bar lounge, and a bunch of other stuff in the East Wing.” I scrunched my nose and studied the hallway ahead of us. “You wouldn’t happen to know where any of that is, would ya?”

Theory’s laughter echoed throughout the hallway. He took the lead and asked, “Where would you like me to escort you, princess?”

“The bar lounge. I’ve met too many people and had too little booze.” I commanded half-jokingly.

“You’re a little alcoholic, aren’t you?” He taunted with a lopsided grin.

“I’m a social drinker. Which means that to be social, I’ve got to drink.” I jested. I raised my wine in a toast and swallowed the last of it before handing Theory my glass and leaning against a wall.

“What are you doing now?” Theory studied me curiously.

“I’m taking off these damned heels. My feet are killing me. Might as well take advantage of this fancy ass carpet.” I grumbled, using the wall to support me since I couldn’t properly bend over in my corset.

“Here, let me help.” Theory offered after watching me struggle for a few moments. He finished off his wine and placed our empty glasses on the floor before kneeling in front of me. I shivered at his gentle touch as I looked down at him. He unbuckled the straps of my heels and slid them off one at a time. I was mesmerized by every move he made. I tried, and failed, to look away. His eyes lifted to mine as he rasped, “Need me to carry these for you?”

“Uh, no… I’ll take them, you’ve got the glasses anyway.” I gently lifted my shoes from his large, outstretched hand. “Thank you…”

“No problem…” He remained kneeling before me like that for a few long moments. Neither of us moved or hardly breathed as those moments seemed to stretch. Blush crept across my face and neck before I broke the trance by clearing my throat and peering down the hall. Theory collected the empty cups, and we continued walking in a silence that was both comfortable and torturous at once. At last, we entered the bar lounge through an open set of double doors. I followed Theory to a self-serve cocktail bar on the left-hand side of the lounge. Throughout the space were various areas to relax and play bar games. One area was elevated above the cocktail bar, and I was curious to see its layout.

Placing our empty wine glasses in a fancy sink that sat next to the bar, Theory began to run his fingers along the numerous bottles that were nestled into dark wooden shelves set into the wall. He paused, throwing me an inquisitive glance over his shoulder, “What’s your poison?”

“Vodka, mostly. Tequila, if I’m feeling extra feisty. I do better with clears, no browns or beers.” I responded automatically, reciting my refined preferences, honed over years of college and nightlife experience, gained from living among humans.

“Why don’t you drink beer?” Theory probed. 

“Uh, because it tastes like piss. Plus, it’s not nearly as effective as shots or mixed drinks.” I perched on a barstool within arm’s reach of Theory. I plopped my shoes onto the stool next to me and softly swung my dangling legs.

“Hah! So far, you aren’t beating the alcoholic allegations.” Theory nagged while swiping a bottle of vodka. He leaned across the bar, wiggling the bottle in front of me, “You want it straight or mixed?”

“I’m not an alcoholic, and I definitely don’t want shots right now.” I insisted. I braced my hands on the bar, lifting myself and stretching over it to peer at the bar’s minifridge. I spotted a row of Red Bulls behind the glass door. “Ooh! Jackpot!”

In a highly unladylike fashion, I twisted from my lifted position, sat on the bar top, and swung my dress and legs over to the other side before sliding behind the bar. Theory’s attention was fixed on my every move. He seemed delighted by my lack of grace and decorum. I avoided directly meeting his gaze and instead grabbed a metal pail, filling it with ice and Red Bulls. I shimmied past Theory’s large, unmoving frame to head back around. Grabbing my shoe straps in one hand, I started up the steps to the right of the cocktail bar. 

“You coming or not?” I paused on the third step, smiling back at him with an eyebrow raised. His eyes glimmered at my sassy tone. My breath hitched as I saw him run his tongue along his teeth as he smiled, from canine to canine, before biting his lip. I quickly turned back to continue up the stairs, “Don’t forget the vodka and two tall glasses on your way up.”

“As you wish, princess.” Theory’s low voice rumbled up from behind as I heard the sounds of glasses clinking and heavy steps unhurriedly stalking after me.

My heart skipped a beat as I surveyed the second floor, willing myself to settle on somewhere to go before Theory and my earlier bravado caught up with me. Along the farthest wall, two doors appeared to lead onto a balcony. My bare feet made light tapping sounds as I flitted across the cold floor, trying to maintain the lead. I reached the doors, fumbling to quickly tuck my heels under my arm so that I could turn the knob. As I pushed the door open, heat prickled at my back. He had already caught up.

“Seems like a good spot,” I mused. It truly was. The balcony offered a breathtaking view of the starry night sky and the shimmering ocean. It was also quiet and felt like a hidden pocket of the universe compared to the Great Hall. A small circular table stood between two comfy-looking lounge chairs. I placed my shoes and the pail filled with ice and Red Bulls just under the table as I sat. I was happy the seats were slightly reclined, though the corset still royally pissed me off. Theory placed the bottle of vodka and the two tall glasses on top of the table and sat across from me. We were both facing outward toward the balcony railing and the sights beyond it. 

“… It’s perfect.” He agreed after we took a few moments to appreciate the scenery.

I twisted to rest sideways in my seat with my legs curled beneath me, so that I could see him. He had been gazing up at the sky, but when he noticed my movement, he turned his head to meet my eyes. Yet again, we were locked in this silent game of chicken, waiting to see who would turn away first.