Page 71 of About to Fall

“You were snapping at me the other day about the way I was breathing in the gym.”

“You were grunting. Fine, maybe, I’m a bit intense.”

“That’s what Zuko said too. Right before he had a breakdown in the Earth Kingdom.”

Nicky was quiet for a moment, watching Zuko on screen argue with Iroh about honour and destiny. “So who does that make you? Iroh?”

“Please. I’m obviously Toph. Chaotic, devastatingly talented, zero respect for authority.” I nudged his shoulder. “You’re welcome for earthbending some sense into you.”

He laughed—that surprised, genuine sound I was obsessed with—and said, “If you’re Toph, does that mean you’re going to teach me to see with my feet?”

“Baby, Toph's specialty was feeling vibrations. I could show you a thing or two about that.”

Nicky choked on nothing and I patted his back as an excuse to touch him.

At the end of the aisle, Sabrina’s eyebrows shot up through her hairline. She leaned forward, eyes flicking between Nicky and then me, but I was suddenly very interested in the screen.

◆◆◆

The Saint Clément was old Parisian elegance—marble floors, gilded mirrors, the kind of understated luxury that whispered money rather than shouting it. A far cry from the shared rooms of Québec and Osaka. This time we had a block of rooms on the fourth floor, each of us with our own room. Renaud was somewhere on ten, mercifully distant.

Nicky was at the front desk collecting keycards, speaking French to the concierge which was surprisingly hot. I hadn’t known he was fluent. Another piece of the puzzle I was slowly assembling.

“So.”

Sabrina materialized beside me, arms crossed, copper hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun from the flight. Her sharp green eyes narrowed as they scanned my face.

“So,” I echoed.

“What’s going on with you two?”

“There’s nothing going on.”

“You certainly looked cozy on the plane.”

“It’s a tight fit in economy.”

“You were sharing earbuds.”

“It’s called being environmentally conscious. One device, two listeners. Reduces carbon footprint.”

“You made him blush so hard I thought he was going to combust.”

“Nicky blushes easily. It’s a skin tone thing.”

“Adrian.” She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “I’ve known Nico since we were twelve. He’s been through a lot the last—” She stopped. Shook her head. Restarted. “He’s been different the last few weeks. Lighter. The closest to happy I’ve seen him in a while. And you’re the variable that changed.”

“You give me too much credit.”

“Maybe.” She tilted her head, studying me like I was a particularly complicated step sequence. “Or maybe the guy who never trains with anyone is suddenly attached at the hip to one of my closest friends and I want to know why.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re terrifying?”

“Frequently. Answer the question.”

I glanced toward the front desk. Nicky was still talking to the concierge, gesturing at something on his phone. Probably planning our itinerary for the week. He did that—made sure everything went smoothly even when no one asked him. Made reservations. Checked reviews. Built little spreadsheets of cafés ranked by espresso quality and croissant flakiness. It was neurotic and endearing and I had stopped pretending I didn’t find it adorable.

“We’re friends.”