Saved at Sunrise

Burnett’s rules. You’re gonna come back bruised.”
    Steve grinned. “I’ll tell him you did it.”
    Della plopped down on the old pine chest that served as a coffee table. “He’d know
     that wasn’t true, even if he couldn’t hear your heart lie. If you pissed me off, I
     wouldn’t have stopped at a black eye. You’d be black-and-blue all over.”
    “Now that’s just an outright lie. I don’t think you’d hurt me.” His Southern accent
     came out again.
    “And you’d be wrong.” She paused. “Where are you from?”
    “Where do you think I’m from?” He smiled as if her question pleased him.
    And she knew why. She’d shown some personal interest in him. She shouldn’t have done
     that because he might think she actually liked him or something.
    “I think you’re from somewhere where they talk funny,” she smarted off, and shot up
     to get her blood from the refrigerator. She found a cup, rinsed it out—twice—poured
     her dinner into it, and sat down at the kitchen table.
    He dropped into the second chair at the table. “I’m from Alabama. My parents dragged
     me to Dallas two years ago.”
    “You don’t like Texas?” she asked and frowned when she realized she’d done it again,
     shown a personal interest. Then again, maybe she should give herself a break, they
     were on a mission together, and she was pretending to be his girlfriend. If someone
     asked something, she should be able to answer it.
    “Since I went to camp this last summer, I do. Before that … not really. The school
     in Dallas was some fancy prep school—not even for supernaturals. That school fit my
     parents’ way of thinking and life, but I don’t do fancy schools very well.”
    She couldn’t see him in one, either. Not that he didn’t seem smart, he did. But he
     was just easier going than someone who wanted to put on airs.
    A few more questions popped into her mind, but she hesitated to ask. She turned her
     cup in her hands.
    The silence must have felt awkward to him as well, because he continued. “My dad’s
     a CEO for an oil company, Mom’s a doctor. And I’m an only child who’s not supposed
     to care what I want but to just grow up, become what they want me to be, and make
     them look good in the human world.”
    “They’re shifters, too, right?” she asked.
    “Yeah, but you’d hardly know it. I don’t think my mom has shifted in a couple of years.
     Dad does it just to relieve stress, but they like living in the human world.”
    “And you don’t?” Della asked, thinking about how often she wished she could go back
     to the human world and be one of them. Sure, she appreciated the powers, loved knowing
     she could kick ass. But she wished that gaining these powers hadn’t meant losing so
     much of her life. Or rather the people who were in her life.
    “I don’t want to run off and join a damn compound or anything, but I’m proud of what
     I am. I can abide by the rules, not exposing myself in front of humans. I don’t have
     a problem with rules, but I don’t want to hide from this part of myself.”
    “I don’t blame you.” She didn’t think she could hide, either. Not now.
    “I’m not really complaining about them,” he said. “I mean, as long as we don’t have
     to see each other very often we forget that we’re all disappointed in each other.”
    She knew all about the feeling of disappointing your parents. Exhaling, she looked
     at the pillowcase, which was bunched up at the end and held the five pieces of ice.
     He’d brought it with him to the table, but wasn’t using it. “You should use that.
     That’s all the ice we have.”
    He put it against his eye and stared at her with the other. “What’s your story?”
    “No story here,” she lied.
    He leaned his chair back on two legs. With half his face hidden behind the hanging
     pillowcase, he looked accusingly at her with his uninjured eye. “Liar.”
    She swallowed and stood, picking up her cup.
    It didn’t stop him from talking though. “You think I don’t see you on parents’ day?
     You look completely miserable when you see them come in.” He dropped the ice from
     his eye. “The only time you look more miserable is when you watch them leave.”
    She frowned, not liking that her feelings about her parents had been so visible. “You’re
     not fae, you can’t read my emotions. So stop trying.” She took two steps and then
     looked back. “I’m calling it a night.”
    He dropped his chair