CENSORED 2: NICK

The girl curses, her long brown hair splattering over her face like jetted diarrhea. I could’ve warned her about the hair elastic, but it’s better she sees the truth for herself. We aren’t just withholding her personal possessions for our own amusement. I mean, we are amused. It’s especially amusing when a charge hasn’t bothered to read the pamphlet and refuses to strip in spite of our insistence. POOF! Naked anyway. But we definitely don’t do it just to be blowholes.

“Sorry about that,” Elaina pings, taking long robes from the wall to hand out. “Nothing inanimate can be transported.”

Ainsley Coterie is our final charge. To prep for her arrival, we received a paper thin file on her. All it said was she has four older brothers, and her father owns a construction company where they all work together as a family. Not much to go on. It said nothing about her personality, interests, or any other detail that humanizes her. Like Elaina, I want to know everything about her. All. The. Things. I can’t wait to get started.

When I look to Ainsley, her Regular brown-grey eyes are staring into my Sparkler silver rings and black flecks. The rings represent our spark element: silver for air, green for earth, blue for water, or red for fire. The flecks represent our Schism: white for creation light or black for negation dark. The only thing someone can’t tell by looking me in the eye is whether I’m a regenerative Sheath or discharge Wielder. Even that distinction will dissolve when Elaina and I are fully joined in absolute Synergy. Then we’ll get our final ring that glistens gold with the promise of our connection.

“If you’d prefer to continue without it…” I whitetrail, pointing to the robe.

Her scopes narrow as she snatches it.

“You handled the transport well,” Elaina tinks.

Ainsley shrugs.

I’m not going to get too worked up about her clear lack of desire to be here. Anything forced is naturally getting blowback, even when it’s ordered for their protection. Controlled ignition means structure and safety. The spark is volatile in the beginning, a feral, awakened beast that’s starving. It has to be caged so we can properly feed it. Otherwise, it’s eating the charge for dinner before having everyone close to them for dessert.

“The week will pass quickly,” Elaina chimes.

“Five sleeps,” Ainsley reports.

“I’m Elaina.” She motions to me. “This is Nick.”

Ainsley just stands there with her lips curling into a frown, no pleasantries nor attempts at basic civility. I find myself even more excited to spend time with her because of that. We’ll let her set the pace as we progress, and when she gets swept up in the tornado of our awesomeness, it’ll be all the more rewarding.

“Are you up for a welcoming chat?” Elaina asks hopefully.

To formally register with the Healing Sect, we need to broaden our social awareness. These charges are full of just about every possible emotion, giving us the perfect opportunity to experience them all at their highest altitudes.

“Big blitzing no,” she slamfires.

Ah, turbulence. A breath of fresh air. Time to strap in for some sauce swapping.

“Look at you!” I boom. “Saving us from wasting more time on your Regular rump.”

She shrugs. Not the reaction I want. What I want is to badger some sort of emotional response from her, open the drawbridge to her feelings castle. Maybe she’ll throw some salt my way. Some pepper. Anything. Instead, she just readily accepts my words like she gives exactly zero cares.

She did keep us waiting, but we expected that. At least she didn’t make us chase her. We chased one of the charges for half a kilometre. My bare feet still sting from the rough terrain. I’ll definitely remember his name. Grady. Holy dark, was he ever fast, almost as fast as the wind I knocked out of him.

“So, we’re done then?” Her flat tone gives nothing away.

“We need to get your measurements,” Elaina plinks in a small voice.

Ainsley cocks a curious brow, and I brace for the expected question about just what the fresh heck we think we’re doing, but it never comes. Instead, she proves just how shy she isn’t by dropping her robe and holding out her hands.

“Looks like we’ll have time for the full tour.” Elaina chinks a laugh, struggling with the measuring tape. “The campus isn’t big enough for you to get lost or anything, but knowing where everything is will help you settle.”

“No tours,” Ainsley dryfires.

Elaina finally gives up and tosses the measuring tape to me. I hold it up in front of Ainsley as if asking for consent, wondering if her shield might finally falter and award me some comment about how far up my blaster I can stow the measuring tape, but she just shrugs again. I blow out the tiniest sigh, pleased as punch I’ve managed to glean something about her at last. Completely invading her physical space is perfectly acceptable, but her head jar needs a lot of loosening before we pop that sucker open.

I finish with the last sweeping measurement of her left arm. When I start to let go, she drops down to grab the robe and hauls herself right back up into my outstretched hand. A boob is skimmed. Unfortunately, that isn’t the worst of it. My pinky definitely grazes a nipple. I open my mouth to start on an apology, but Elaina still has her heart set on a tour, and she has no idea what I’ve just done. Usually, the softness in her tone bats against my heart like fluttering eyelashes. That would help in just about any other circumstance. Not this one. Not this one at all. This time she blows a shame bird right into my gas turbine when she offers, “How about a quickie?”

“A quick tour,” I course-correct.

“No, I’ve wasted enough of your time today,” Ainsley snicks, “and you’ve wasted enough of mine.”

Well, I wanted the salt. I mean, it could’ve been better timed. Preferably when I could actually make a smart remark that wouldn’t leave me feeling like a heaping pile of poo because I felt her up.

“Alright, we’ll lead you to your room then,” Elaina pouts. “I was just hoping to get some things set up for you while we—”

“Five more sleeps, Ainsley,” I cut Elaina off, not having the heart to let her get rejected again.

“Five more sleeps,” Ainsley echoes, shooting out a long breath like she’s been holding it the entire time.

When we start down the hall, she slows to walk behind us instead of beside us, stalling any continued attempts at conversation. Obviously, we have our work cut out for us with this one.

Elaina’s fingers bump against mine as we walk toward the Dormitory. I take hold of her hand on instinct. Once we’ve deposited Ainsley inside her room, where she promptly shuts the door back in our faces without so much as a ‘thank you’ or even an ‘eat crap and die’, we start back to our own room with our fingers still intertwined.

Elaina tings a sigh. “At least she didn’t slam it.”

“Maybe we’ll have better luck tomorrow.” I squeeze her hand reassuringly as we walk along with no urgency in our steps.

“With her opening or slamming the door?”

I blow out a low whistle. “Yes.”

Her lips downdraft. I hate that look on her face. It tears my heart into tiny little pieces.

“Chin up, Flutterby.” I knock my shoulder against hers. “Just five more sleeps.”

She grins at that, reaching her free hand over to join the other one I’m holding and rubbing slow patterns on my knuckles.

“Who said anything about sleeping?” she asks coyly.

My steps are suddenly more urgent.

“I touched her…” I whitetrail.

She chinkles her chimes. “Darkness save me, you touched her nipple and I offered her a quickie. We’ll have to make it up to her.”

“We will,” I promise, “but first, let me make it up to you.”