Chapter 4
"Edward." Felix's mom poked her head out of the kitchen. "What do you want to drink? We've got cola, juice, and some homemade coffee."
"Coffee is fine. Thanks, Mrs. Schur," I replied.
"Got it." She ducked back into the kitchen, and the clatter of pots and pans filled the air, the whole house smelling of food.
I sat in the warm living room, holding my cup of warm water, my eyes still a little sore.
"Feli," I called softly.
"Yeah?" Felix replied.
"Thank you."
He glanced up at me. "You're welcome."
"Why's your Veyrish so good?"
"My mom's been speaking it to me since I was a kid."
"Guess your Sterkisch is pretty good too, huh?"
"I'm a Sterkenlander."
"Oh, right."
There was a brief silence.
"May I know your mom's name?" I asked.
He paused, then answered, "Yeah. Her name is Emma."
"Why doesn't she call you Feli?"
"Because I'm not a child anymore."
"So, should I also call you Felix instead of Feli?"
He glanced up at me, something flickering in his green eyes too quick for me to catch. "Whatever."
"Then I'll call you Felix," I said. "The name sounds classy."
He didn't say anything, but I noticed the tips of his ears turning a little red under the light.
*****
Dinner was hands down the best meal I'd had since coming to Sterkenland.
Emma whipped up red wine-braised ribs, tomato soup, a vegetable salad, and a plate of pickles.
It was regular home cooking, but it beat any fancy meal for me.
I barely looked up as I polished off two plates of food.
Emma grinned at me. "Take it easy. There's plenty left."
"Mrs. Schur, your cooking is amazing," I mumbled with my mouth full of ribs. "I haven't had anything this good since I got to Sterkenland."
"Poor kid," Emma sighed. "Come by whenever you want. I'll always cook for you."
My eyes stung, and I ducked my head, pretending to focus on my food.
Felix sat across from me, eating neatly and taking his time with every bite.
But he hadn't said anything the whole time. He only occasionally looked up at me, then dropped his gaze and went on eating.
After dinner, I offered to help with the dishes, but Emma shooed me out of the kitchen.
"Go sit down. Let Felix do the dishes," she said.
"Huh?" I glanced at Feli's icy face. I couldn't believe that he was really going to do the dishes.
Felix got up from his chair, gathered the dishes expressionlessly, and carried them into the kitchen.
The sound of the faucet running came from inside.
I leaned against the kitchen doorframe, watching him with an apron tied around his waist, head down as he washed the dishes.
Felix, a six‑foot‑three Sterkenlandish cop with blond hair, emerald eyes, broad shoulders, and a narrow waist, was standing at the sink, washing dishes.
The whole thing was surreal.
He seemed to notice my gaze and turned to look at me. "What's up?"
"Nothing," I said. "I just think you look kind of handsome doing the dishes."
The plate in his hand slipped with a clink. "Go sit down."
"Okay," I said, curling up on the couch, my grin impossible to wipe off.
That night, Emma got a guest room ready for me. She'd put on fresh sheets and a new duvet cover, and tucked a hot water bottle under the covers for me.
"Get a good night's sleep. Felix will give you a ride back to school tomorrow," she said.
"Thanks," I replied.
Once the door closed, I lay on the soft bed, the faint clean scent of laundry soap in the air, staring up at the ceiling and zoning out for a while.
The moon outside was still bright.
But this time, I didn't feel homesick at all.
*****
The next morning, I woke up to the smell of coffee drifting in.
When I opened my eyes, sunlight was already streaming through the curtains, spilling warm light across the floor.
Still half-asleep, I sat up and walked out of the room while rubbing my eyes.
In the kitchen, Felix stood at the counter with his back to me, his black sweater sleeves pushed up to his forearms, showing off those lean, toned arms.
Sunlight poured in through the window behind him, making his blond hair glow almost see-through in the morning light.
He turned around with two cups of coffee in his hands, catching sight of me lingering in the doorway.
"You're up?" he said.
I mumbled, "Yeah."
"Go brush your teeth and wash up, then we'll eat breakfast."
"Okay."
I walked groggily toward the bathroom. As I passed by him, he suddenly reached out and patted me on the head.
He said, "Your hair's sticking up."
I froze for a second, then reached up to touch the back of my head. Sure enough, there was a tuft of hair sticking straight up.
I grumbled, "Why didn't you say something sooner?"
"I'm saying it now," he said.
My ears burning, I ducked into the bathroom, shut the door, and stared at myself in the mirror for a long moment.
My face was a little flushed, my hair a total mess, but my mouth was tugged up in a silly smile I couldn't explain.