Chapter Text
The music was loud.
The blue and red lights flashed over the crowd scattered across the venue.
Kleya would have picked somewhere else, but she hadn't been the one making the choice. The message had come in shortly after eight, from one of her sources, someone claiming to have information about the city she had sent one of her jornalists.
She pushed the door open and stepped inside, hands tucked into her coat pockets as her eyes swept across the room. Nothing immediately stood out as wrong, but the sense of unease was still there.
Just over an hour ago, a message had appeared on her phone, one of her informants claimed to have something about Gorman; information that couldn't be discussed over the phone. Normally, the brunette would have ignored something so vague. Over the years, she'd learned that half the tips Axis received were nothing more than rumors, while the other half usually came with enough risk to justify a healthy amount of paranoia but Gorman had shown up on her radar too many times in the past few weeks.
First through rumors, then through local sources, until the situation had become concerning enough to justify sending Vel. Officially, the assignment revolved around the city's growing textile industry and its economic impact on the region. In reality, though, Kleya wanted to understand why so many people seemed uneasy whenever the city's name came up in conversation.
So any information was enough to grab her attention.
She spotted a table near the back of the establishment, ordered a drink at the bar, and settled into her seat in a position that allowed her to keep an eye on most of the room without constantly having to turn her head.
The time they had agreed-upon was fifteen minutes ago and still, no one had approached her, and no new messages had come through. Kleya picked up her phone once more and the conversation remained exactly the same, the last message still sitting on the screen.
"13th bar, intel on G. Come alone."
Nothing else.
She set the phone back on the table and lifted her gaze again, that was when she started noticing the small details she'd missed when she first arrived. A man near the entrance, another stood alone near the bar and two more occupied a table behind her, and none of them were talking or looked like they were there to enjoy themselves.
The realization that the source might never have existed came slowly, unpleasant and inevitable. Kleya drained her glass and was just about to stand when she heard the scrape of a chair being pulled out across from her.
Her eyes snapped up immediately.
Heert sat down on the other side of the table with an infuriating sort of calm, as though he had been expected all along. Kleya leaned back in her chair without showing any sign of surprise – Internally, however, she was trying to find a way to get out of there as quickly as possible.
Heert rested his forearms on the table and picked up his glass, for a few seconds, he remained silent, watching her as though weighing her reaction.
Then he ran a finger along the rim of the glass.
“Good evening, Miss Marki.” Kleya didn't answer, and Heert didn't seem to care. He settled more comfortably into his chair and crossed one leg over the other. “I'll admit, I'm a bit disappointed.”
“Why?” She raised an eyebrow.
“I expected you to be more careful.”
“I still don't understand what you're trying to say.’ Kleya lifted a hand toward the bar, when the bartender noticed the gesture, she pointed to the empty glass in front of her.
‘Another dry martini, please.” Only then did she turn her full attention back to Heert. “I came out for a drink after work, like any normal person.” She tilted her head slightly. “Is there a problem with that?”
One of his eyebrows arched, almost amused.
“Alone?”
“I'll ask again: what's the problem exactly?”
The smile vanished from his face.
“We both know you've been sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, Miss Marki.” The formalities were over. “Trying to destroy Deedra's reputation isn't going to end well for that cheap little magazine of yours.”
Kleya didn't respond immediately. Instead, she let her gaze wander across the room once more.
The anger came before the concern.
Vel.
Of course this had something to do with Vel.
She had sent her to Gorman precisely because she was one of Axis's best journalists. Intelligent, persistent, and stubborn enough not to walk away from a story the moment she met with resistance.
The problem was that Vel also possessed an almost supernatural talent for turning discreet operations into impossibly complicated situations.
The assignment had been simple; Listen, observe, gather information, and go home.
No confrontations.
Nothing that would draw attention. And yet here Kleya was, sitting across from Heert, receiving a warning that made it painfully clear someone had figured out exactly who was investigating the city.
Fantastic.
Absolutely fantastic.
She could already imagine the talk she will have when Vel returns. Assuming she didn't get herself arrested first. Or decide to pick a fight with some local authority– just the thought of it made her jaw tighten.
The most annoying part of all this was that Vel had probably found something.
Heert wouldn't be here otherwise. Men like him didn't waste time intimidating journalists over harmless rumors. At the same time, whoever was behind all this now knew Axis was watching and that made everything more difficult.
As her gaze drifted across the bar, her eyes landed on a woman standing near the side hallway. Dark-skinned, hair pulled back, a camera slung over one shoulder, but it wasn't the camera that caught Kleya's attention.
It was the way she was looking straight at her, as though she were taking everything in without missing a single detail.
For a moment, their eyes locked.
Kleya looked away first and turned her attention back to the man sitting across from her, lifting her glass to her lips.
“I don't know what you're talking about, Heert.” She took a sip of her drink. "I would never go against Representative Meero, especially not in the middle of an election year."
“Don't play dumb, Marki.” Heert leaned closer. “We caught that blonde journalist snooping around where she didn't belong and I know she was there because of you.” His voice dropped lower. “So listen carefully. If I find her there again—”
“Hey, sweetheart.” The voice came from behind him, far too light for the conversation taking place. “Sorry I'm late. Traffic was a nightmare.”
The woman slipped between them without hesitation, forcing Heert to step back. Kleya looked up immediately, ready to dismiss whoever had decided to interfere, but the words died in her throat the moment she saw her.
It was her.
The woman with the brown eyes.
The bar's blue-tinted lights cast cool shadows across her dark skin. A few loose strands had escaped her tied-back hair, falling near her eyes. The worn leather jacket and camera hanging from her shoulder made it look as though she'd just gotten off work and wandered in on impulse.
“Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?”
The crooked smile came with a slow glance in Heert's direction.
“Uh…” It was the only response Kleya managed before Heert's expression darkened.
“I don't have time for this.” He smoothed down the front of his jacket, “You've been warned.” He pointed a finger at Kleya before glancing toward the men scattered around the bar.
A brief gesture toward the exit was enough to set them all in motion and within seconds, they were gone.
The stranger pulled out the chair beside Kleya as the bass of the music pulsed through the metal walls of the bar, filling the silence that settled between them.
“You’re welcome.” A crooked smile tugged at the corner of the woman's mouth.
Kleya held her gaze for a moment before picking up her glass again.
“I don't remember asking for help.”
The woman rested an arm against the table.
“Cinta.” Kleya frowned slightly. “My name,” she clarified.
Kleya's gaze briefly dropped to the camera hanging from her shoulder before returning to her eyes.
“I don't remember asking that either.” She took another sip of her drink and let the silence stretch for a few seconds. “Kleya.”
“Then, Kleya...” Cinta repeated the name softly, as though testing the sound of it before deciding whether she liked it. “What exactly was that about?”
The brunette slowly spun her glass between her fingers.
“Work stuff.”
“Hm.” Cinta nodded slowly, as if she didn't believe that answer for even a second. “And what is it that you do?”
Kleya let out a quiet breath through her nose, finally turning a little more in her direction.
“Don't you have anything better to do?”
The question earned a low laugh from Cinta.
“My girlfriend left me alone in this city almost a week ago.” She gave a small shrug. “I got bored today and decided to come and admire the scenery.” Her gaze drifted slowly down Kleya's body before returning to her face.
Kleya arched an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
Cinta held her gaze without the slightest hint of regret. “You asked.”
A quiet huff of laughter escaped the brunette as she looked down at the glass in her hands.
“That’s not what I meant.”
Cinta's smile widened just a little. “Are you always this welcoming to people trying to save your life?”
“You didn't save my life.”
“Sure.”
The response came a little too quickly, dripping with sarcasm.
Kleya turned to look at her again.
The bar remained loud around them, heavy music pulsing while conversations blended into a mess of half-heard voices. Even so, for a moment, it all seemed distant.
“Who are you?”
Cinta tilted her head slightly. “I already told you my name.”
“That doesn't tell me much.” Kleya's gaze flickered briefly to the camera hanging beside her chair. “A photographer?”
“Sometimes.” Kleya only raised an eyebrow and the woman beside her let out a small breath through her nose before answering. “Photojournalism.”
That earned a more attentive look, “What kind?”
“Protests, political campaigns, a few independent stories.” Cinta rested an arm on the back of her chair without taking her eyes off her. “The kind of things that usually make powerful people uncomfortable.”
Kleya took another sip of her drink to hide her reaction to that.
“Your turn now.” Cinta leaned slightly closer. “What do you do?”
Kleya hesitated.
The habit of keeping personal details to herself came far too easily after years spent surrounded by politicians and people desperate to control the narrative.
But those brown eyes remained fixed on her with such genuine attention.
“I work for a newspaper.”
“A journalist?”
A quiet huff of laughter escaped Kleya.
“Not exactly.”
Cinta's gaze traveled slowly across her face, studying her. “Then you're the person responsible for stopping journalists from ruining their own careers.”
That made Kleya look at her again.
“Something like that.”
A pleased smile appeared on Cinta's face immediately. “Interesting.”
Kleya should have ended the conversation before she got more involved than she'd intended. This woman was probably the exact type of person she usually made a conscious effort to avoid but for the first time in weeks, talking to someone didn't feel exhausting.
“If you're interested...” Cinta leaned a little closer, close enough that Kleya could feel her breath touch her skin. “...we could go somewhere quieter.”
Kleya stared at her for a second, still incredulous at the woman's almost absurd audacity. “And what would your girlfriend think about that?”
Cinta laughed softly.
“It's fine. She knows I'm here.” She gave a small shrug before her gaze briefly dropped to Kleya's lips. “We have an arrangement.”
The words came a little too close to the brunette's ear, spoken low enough to make something dangerously happen in her stomach. When Cinta pulled back just enough to look at her again, Kleya realized she'd been holding her breath.
“Shall we?” she asked.
Kleya let out a quiet breath through her nose.
The photographer leaned in again.
“Maybe we can make your night a little better...” Cinta murmured.
Her hand came to rest lightly on the brunette's thigh, just enough to make her intentions clear and Kleya should have pulled away but instead, she stayed exactly where she was, watching Cinta's eyes as they flickered briefly to her lips before returning to her gaze, and that was enough.
Kleya grabbed the front of Cinta's jacket and pulled her into a kiss that she responded immediately, one hand cupping the brunette’s face firmly as she drew her even closer.
The music disappeared, the bar disappeared and all that remained was the warmth of Cinta's hand against Kleya’s skin, the solid press of their body against each other, and the dangerously addictive taste of the kiss.
The sharp clatter of a glass somewhere nearby was what finally made them pull apart.
“There.” Cinta's voice came out rougher now. “Crisis averted.”
Her gaze briefly shifted to something behind Kleya.
“What?” Kleya said, still looking slightly dazed.
“Your friend's goon.” Cinta smiled as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind Kleya's ear. “He was sitting right next to you.”
Her fingers lingered against Kleya's skin for a second longer than necessary.
“I think he suspected I was lying.” Her smile widened just a little. “Which, technically, I was.” Then her expression softened. “Sorry for throwing myself at you, I needed it to look convincing.”
A small, unwelcome disappointment settled in her chest.
Of course.
She shifted back slightly, slowly regaining her composure.
“I see.” The words came out colder than she'd intended. “Thank you.”
Cinta frowned immediately.
“You’re welcome...” She looked away for a moment before meeting her eyes again. “Look, I'll be honest.” Her voice was quieter now, Kleya remained silent. “I'd like to see you again.”
“Why?”
This time, the surprise on Cinta's face was genuine.
“What?”
“Why would you? Wasn't this just about helping me?”
Cinta simply stared at her, as if trying to figure out whether that was a serious question.
“Because I liked you,” she repeated slowly. “And yes, it was. But those two things aren't mutually exclusive.”
Kleya looked away and reached for her glass, only to realize she'd already finished her drink.
“You have a girlfriend.” The protest sounded weak even to her own ears.
“I told you, we have an arrangement.”
“People usually don't get past a kiss.” The matter-of-factness of Kleya's tone made Cinta study her even more closely. “Usually they go home and move on with their lives.”
“And does that work for you?”
“Usually.”
The silence that followed didn't feel uncomfortable.
“Well...” Cinta leaned slightly against the table “We can pretend that was just a kiss to help you out, if that's what you want. But you're intriguing, Kleya.” Her eyes found Kleya's again, and a small smile followed. “A little strange, too...”
“Thank you.”
Cinta laughed softly.
“That wasn't a criticism. But let me rephrase.” Her voice dropped slightly. “Do you want to see me again?”
The question seemed simple, but the rational part of Kleya's mind had already compiled dozens of reasons why it was a terrible idea. Meanwhile, another part significantly more inconvenient could only think about the way Cinta looked at her.
Ridiculous.
“Maybe…” she answered at last, trying to sound far more composed than she actually felt.
“Maybe?”
The smile seemed permanently attached to Cinta's face at this point.
“Don't push your luck.”
“So that's a yes.”
“That's an ‘I'm still evaluating the situation.’”
“Uh-huh.” The amused disbelief on Cinta's face was irritatingly charming, and realizing that Kleya rolled her eyes “I could drive you home...” she offered casually.
Kleya shook her head immediately.
“You don't have to.”
“Are you sure?”
“Very.”
Cinta held her gaze for a few more seconds before finally taking a step back.
“Alright.” Then she held out her hand. “Your phone.”
Kleya raised an eyebrow but handed over the unlocked device anyway. The Photographer typed something quickly before giving it back, Kleya glanced down at the screen.
Cinta :)
hi
She rolled her eyes and slipped the phone back into her coat pocket.
“Now you have my number, and I have yours.” Cinta said, waving her own phone lightly in one hand.
“Don't get your hopes up.” It was the only response Kleya offered.
Cinta stepped closer one last time, slowly, stopping just near enough for the brunette to feel her warmth again.
“I don't need to,” she murmured. “You're going to think about me all day tomorrow.”
Before Kleya could respond, Cinta gently cupped her face and pressed a quick kiss to the corner of her mouth.
“Goodnight, Kleya.”
Then she stepped away.
Kleya stood there for a full second, watching her go.
Then she gave a small nod and headed for the door, disappearing into the night while trying to convince herself that none of this meant anything.
She failed almost immediately.
Because before she had even gotten into her car, she was already pulling out her phone again to look at the last message she'd sent.
Cinta :)
hi
Kleya stared at it for a few seconds before locking her phone with a little more force than necessary.
—-—-—-—- —-—-—-—-
“Good morning, sleepyhead.” Vel looked up from her laptop the moment she heard the bedroom door open. “Was your little adventure last night worth disappearing for?”
Cinta yawned before making her way over to the couch and practically throwing herself down beside her, far too tired to pretend she was indifferent.
“Absolutely.” A smile appeared before she even realized it. “I've met the most beautiful woman in this city—after you, of course—and we're going to see each other again.”
That earned a raised eyebrow from Vel.
“Oh.” A knowing smile slowly spread across her face. “So she knows I exist.”
Cinta grinned immediately and turned toward her.
“She does.”
Vel let out a small, disbelieving laugh.
“This sounds serious.”
Cinta's gaze briefly dropped to the floor before she answered.
“She was interesting, Vel.” A small smile appeared on her face again, distracted by the memory. “We started talking because of a somewhat unpleasant situation at the bar and...” She gave a small shrug. “I just—I needed to kiss her.”
Vel stared at her in silence for a full second before finally closing her laptop and setting it on the coffee table, then she opened her arms in invitation. Cinta immediately curled up against her, resting her head on the blonde's chest while she gently threaded her fingers through her hair.
“Alright,” she murmured, amused. “Now tell me the whole story.” Cinta let out a contented sigh at the feeling of the affection. “Is she that pretty?”
“Ridiculously.”
That drew a quiet laugh from Vel.
“And what's she like?”
Cinta's expression softened before she even realized it.
“Quieter.” Cinta seemed to choose her words carefully now. “She has this sort of melancholy, broody style. Reserved.” Then she let out a small, incredulous laugh. “I think I'm in love.”
Vel laughed again. “So I have competition.”
“Of course not, Vel.” Cinta lifted her head just enough to look at her. “You're the love of my life.” Then she stole a quick kiss.
“Sure. Sure.” Vel was still smiling when she asked, “What's her name?”
Cinta's expression softened again.
“Kle–” The sound of a phone ringing cut her off.
The moment Vel looked at the screen, she closed her eyes.
“Fuck.”
“Who is it?” Cinta asked as she watched Vel get up from the couch, already rolling her eyes.
“The she-devil.” She answers the call taking a few steps away. “Sartha.” A brief pause while she listened. “No, I wasn't planning on coming in today–” She pauses abruptly. “I literally just got home!” Another pause, and Cinta could see her jaw tighten. “Fine.” More silence. “I said fine.”
Then she took a deep breath, clearly irritated. “I'll be there in an hour.” One final pause before she rolled her eyes. “An hour, Marki. Bye.”
She ended the call with enough force to make her mood obvious.
Vel exhaled sharply, stared at the ceiling for a moment, then looked back at Cinta. “Sorry.”
“I thought you weren't working today.”
Cinta got up from the couch and walked over to her, slipping her arms around Vel's neck, the blonde's hands settled on her waist immediately.
“So did I.” Vel gave her a tired smile. “But maybe a few things happened on that trip that definitely shouldn't have happened.”
“Vel...”
“I couldn't keep my mouth shut, Cinta.” The irritation in her voice sounded genuine now. “I didn't drive halfway across the state just to smile at political events and pretend Gorman is doing great.”
“You literally drove halfway across the state to do exactly that.”
That earned another tired laugh.
“I know.” Vel closed her eyes for a second before resting her forehead against Cinta's shoulder. “But now I have to go deal with the consequences of my actions.” Then she looked up again. “Are you going to be here when I get back, or are you going to ride off into the sunset to meet your new beloved?”
Cinta let out a quiet laugh and rolled her eyes before pulling her into a long kiss. When they finally pulled apart, she kept her forehead resting against Vel's for a moment.
“See you when you get back.”
—-—-—-—- —-—-—-—-
Vel stepped out of the car and slammed the door. The cold morning wind cut through the street as she glanced both ways before heading toward the Axis building.
The understated sign beside the entrance read only:
AXIS MEDIA
Far too small for the amount of influence the place had acquired over the years.
Officially, Axis was an independent investigative journalism magazine. In practice, it was a constant headache for the presidency.
The journal survived by publishing exposés on government corruption, police violence, disappearances, corporate manipulation, and illegal operations that much of the larger media—either too afraid or too bought to touch—preferred to ignore.
Nearly every issue ended with a lawsuit threat, political pressure, or some government spokesperson calling the staff irresponsible on national television.
Luthen Rael, the magazine's founder, liked to say that only meant they were doing their job properly.
She stepped into the elevator, already taking off her sunglasses, and rubbed a tired hand over her face.
The elevator doors opened directly onto Axis's main newsroom and the place looked exactly like the sort of environment that produced stories capable of bringing down powerful people.
Desks buried beneath documents, screens tuned to different news channels, journalists talking loudly on the phone, terrible coffee being consumed at industrial levels, and someone arguing about journalistic ethics near the central bank of computers.
Rebecca—or Bix, as almost everyone called her—looked up from her computer the moment she saw Vel walk in.
“Vel?” She immediately got to her feet and pulled her friend into a hug. “I thought you weren't coming in today.”
“So did I.” Vel pulled away from the embrace “Has Kleya gotten in yet?”
Bix sat back down at her desk and the blonde rested both hands on it.
“If I were you, I wouldn't test her this morning. She came in looking like...” Bix grimaced. “Actually, never mind.”
Vel let out a sign before her gaze drifted across the newsroom to the glass office at the far end of the floor.
“She asked me to come in.”
“Oh…” An amused smile appeared on Bix’s face immediately. “So you're the reason.”
Vel rolled her eyes.
“Very funny.”
Before she could say anything else, a voice carried across the entire newsroom.
“Sartha!” Vel closed her eyes for half a second. “My office. Now.”
Several people nearby instantly became far too busy with their work to pay attention.
Bix gave Vel two sympathetic pats on the thigh.
“Good luck.”
Without even looking at her, Vel responded by raising her middle finger, earning a quiet laugh from her friend, then she shoved her hands into her coat pockets and crossed the newsroom toward the editor-in-chief's office.
“What the hell was that?” Vel said as soon as she stepped inside the office.
Kleya didn't immediately look up from the tablet in her hands. A minute or so later, the editor locked the screen and turned the device face down on the desk before finally looking at her.
“I'd really like to know,” she replied calmly, “why you seem physically incapable of following basic instructions.”
“I just got off a ten-hour flight.” The blonde dropped into a chair without being invited. “Not even a ‘welcome back’?”
“You lost the right to that when you decided to involve yourself in a situation that was clearly spiraling out of control.”
Vel let out a short, incredulous laugh.
“A situation?” Vel immediately leaned forward. “Three activists have disappeared in less than two months. Local journalists are being pressured to take their stories down. Private security companies are moving into Gorman like it's some kind of military zone.”
She threw her hands up in disbelief. “You sent me there to find out what was going on! You told me to keep an eye on everything surrounding Meero! I honestly thought this was exactly the kind of thing you wanted me to find.”
Kleya held her gaze without blinking and for a moment, the memory of Heert sitting across from her at the bar flashed through her mind, all because Vel couldn't go a full week without drawing attention to herself.
“The problem isn't what I did or didn't ask you to do.” Her voice was firm. “The problem is that investigations require patience, evidence, and time, Vel.’
She crossed her arms. ‘They do not require a journalist showing up in a town, asking the wrong people the wrong questions, and making it obvious to half the city that she's investigating something.”
“I have evidence. I wrote a story– More or less.” She cleared her throat quickly before continuing. “I sent it to you before I came up here. Did you read it?”
“Not yet.” Kleya crossed her arms again.
“If you read it, you'll know I'm right.” The insistence in her voice was beginning to sound almost desperate. “Something's different there, Kleya. Something is happening in Gorman.” She leaned forward. “We have to do something.”
Kleya exhaled slowly through her nose. “And what exactly is this evidence?” She arched an eyebrow. “An anonymous source? Partially edited footage? Photos taken completely out of context?”
“You haven't even read the story!”
“Because the story isn't the issue.” That made Vel frown, but Kleya continued before she could interrupt. “You went to Gorman under the pretense of writing a piece about the town's textile industry.” Her jaw tightened. “It was supposed to be a straightforward assignment. A chance to observe without drawing attention.”
“And I observed.”
“That's not what it looks like.” Silence settled between them for a moment, and Kleya leaned forward, resting her forearms on the desk. “Think about this for two seconds, Vel.” Her voice remained low. “If something really is happening there, do you honestly think the people involved are stupid?’
Vel didn't answer. ‘Do you think no one notices when a journalist from Coruscant’s most problematic news source shows up out of nowhere and starts asking questions about disappearances, private security, and political activity?”
“So I was supposed to pretend I didn't see anything?”
“You were supposed to be discreet.” The response came immediately. “You were supposed to gather information. Come home. Hand over everything you found.’
Kleya held her gaze. ‘Because an investigation is only useful if the people you're investigating don't know they're being investigated. You said you were there to write a story about the town's textile industry—”
“Which I was—” Vel tried to cut in, but Kleya kept going.
“—and then you started asking political questions to random people in public without the slightest bit of caution. How exactly is that being discreet?” She took a slow breath, visibly irritated. “How do you think I found out about it so quickly, Vel?’
The silence answered before Vel could.
“If we publish anything right now, they'll shut us down.” Kleya finally looked away and leaned back in her chair. “You know what's happening. The censorship is getting worse...”
“And that's supposed to mean we stop publishing stories like this?”
“Don't twist my words.”
“Then what exactly are you saying?” Vel shot back immediately. “Because from where I'm standing, it sounds a lot like fear.”
Kleya slowly looked up.
“That's coming from the woman who decided to investigate paramilitary activity in an occupied city without telling anyone.”
Vel's jaw tightened. “You still haven't read the story.”
“No I didn't.” Kleya turned her attention back to her computer. “But I know you.’ That made Vel look up immediately.
Kleya let out a slow breath. ‘You have someone waiting for you at home.” The Editor regretted the words the moment they left her mouth, they sounded far too personal, even so, she continued. “So maybe it's time you started acting like someone who intends to make it back there.”
“That's not fair...” There was no fight left in Vel's voice now.
Kleya exhaled slowly. “Welcome to adulthood.”
“Are you at least going to read what I wrote before you kill the story?”
“The story's already been killed.” She finally looked at Vel again. “I can't promise I'll read it today, but I'll try to find the time.”
The look of disbelief on her face might have been funny in any other situation. “You're serious?”
“Completely.”
They held each other's gaze for several long seconds, then Vel abruptly pushed herself out of her chair.
“Where's Luthen?”
Kleya let out a tired sigh. “I think we're done here.”
“Where's Luthen?” Vel asked again.
“You’re out of control.” Kleya scoffed, “You're lucky he isn't here.”
“No. You're ignoring what's happening.” Vel planted both hands on the desk “I gave him Aldhani. I gave him Ferrix. I gave him half the stories that made this paper what it is today.’
Her voice hardened. ‘He'll understand how important this is once he reads what I wrote.” Kleya remained silent and that only irritated Vel more. “Sometimes I genuinely don't know whose side you're on.”
That finally made Kleya look up. “Careful.”
“What have you given him lately, huh?” Vel shot back. “Besides keeping your ass glued to that chair?”
As soon as the words left her mouth, Vel watched something in Kleya's expression harden.
“You think I have the luxury of picking a different side every week?” The brown-eyed woman's voice was low.
Vel didn't answer, Kleya rose from her chair.
“I don't have a ‘lately,’ Vel.” She braced both hands against the desk. “I have an always.” Her voice remained calm. “I have lawyers telling me we're about to get sued, sources disappearing, sponsors pulling out.’
She took a step toward the blonde, when she spoke, her voice was colder than before. ‘And if I wasn't on your side...” She held Vel's gaze. “You'd already be in jail.” A brief pause. “Or dead.”
The silence that followed was heavy enough to crush whatever remained of the argument. Without another word, Vel opened the door and walked out, slamming it hard enough to make the glass rattle in its frame.
Kleya let out a long breath and made her way back to her desk before sinking into her chair. She closed her eyes and rested her elbows on the desk, pressing her fingers against her forehead.
The headache that had been threatening to appear all morning was finally settling in.
Monday.
Of course it had to be a Monday.
[...] [...]
[...]
The argument with Vel kept circling through her mind long after the blonde had left.
Gorman and disappearances and allegations.
The story she still hadn't read.
And the worst part was that some part of her knew exactly why Vel had been so worked up because beneath all that infuriating impulsiveness, she was rarely that upset without a reason.
The phone vibrated on her desk, pulling Kleya's attention back to the present. She ignored it but a few seconds later, it vibrated again.
She kept staring at the dark computer screen.
A third vibration followed almost immediately, this time accompanied by a notification banner lighting up the phone.
Kleya exhaled through her nose, irritated.
If it was Vel trying to continue the argument over text, she would seriously consider blocking her number for a few hours.
Without much urgency, she reached for the phone and turned it over. The irritation vanished as soon as she realized who it was.
Cinta :)
The name alone was enough to make her blink. A small, almost involuntary smile appeared at the corner of her mouth.
Hi.
Another message had arrived a few seconds later.
Not sure if you remember me, but it’s Cinta. Kaz.
A quiet laugh escaped her. That was exactly the sort of thing she could imagine Cinta saying in person, as if she were leaning against a wall somewhere, smiling at her phone as she typed.
A third message sat beneath it.
I don't think we ever exchanged last names.
Kleya's smile widened slightly.
For the first time since she'd arrived at the office, the tension in her shoulders eased just enough for her to notice how exhausted she actually was.
Her fingers hovered over the screen for a few seconds before she finally started typing.
Kleya: Nice try
She stared at her own message for a moment before typing again.
Kleya: But for now, I'm still just Kleya.
The reply came so quickly it felt like Cinta had already been staring at her screen, waiting for it.
Cinta :) I’m not sure what you’re saying…
Kleya raised an eyebrow. It wasn't hard to imagine the tone behind that response. Somehow, she could practically hear the irony hidden beneath the words but before she could come up with a reply, another notification appeared.
Cinta :) Are you free on Friday?
A few seconds later:
Cinta :) Like... around 8 p.m.?
Kleya leaned back in her chair.
Kleya: Why?
She barely had time to lock the screen again.
Cinta :) Because I wasn't joking.
Cinta :) When I said I wanted to get to know you better.
Kleya stared at the messages longer than she meant to.
It was a simple offer, nothing particularly complicated and yet, there was something about that straightforward honesty that caught her off guard.
She tipped her head back against the chair and let the phone rest in her lap for a moment.
Her best – and most problematic – journalist was furious with her, the government was making Axis's job harder with every passing month and somewhere on that endless list of problems was a woman she'd known for all of a few days asking if she could see her again.
Against all common sense, that seemed to be the only problem she actually wanted to have right now. She set her phone down on the desk and tried to turn her attention back to her computer.
It worked for approximately fifteen seconds. By the sixteenth, she was already reaching for her phone again.
Kleya stared at the screen for a few moments, rereading the last message one more time before replying:
Kleya: Friday. Eight o'clock.
The response came back so quickly it was as if Cinta had been holding her phone the entire time.
Cinta :) Excellent.
Cinta :) I promise I won't kiss you within the first five minutes.
Kleya raised an eyebrow.
Kleya: How generous of you.
Cinta :) I'm trying to make a good impression.
Kleya: You're failing.
Cinta :) Liar.
Kleya's smile widened despite herself. She locked the screen before she could reply again and spent a few seconds staring at her dark reflection in it because now there was a date and because some part of her was actually looking forward to it.
The phone vibrated once more.
Kleya sighed and unlocked the screen.
Cinta :) Oh.
Cinta :) And good morning to you too.
The laugh that escaped her this time was impossible to hold back.
Outside her office, someone hurried past carrying a stack of documents, her inbox was still filling up but for a few minutes, Kleya let all of it fade into the background as she simply sat there.
Smiling at her phone.
—-—-—-—- —-—-—-—-
Vel stepped through the front door, letting it shut behind her a little harder than she'd intended.
It had been a long day.
The argument with Kleya was still echoing around in her head, tangled together with the exhaustion from the trip and the frustration of having her story shelved before anyone had even bothered to read it.
She let out a slow breath as she shrugged off her coat.
That was when she noticed Cinta.
The brunette was perched on one of the stools by the kitchen counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. One elbow rested on the countertop, her cheek propped against her hand, a distracted smile lighting up her features as she stared at her phone.
A genuine smile, the kind that appeared before a person even realized they were smiling.
Vel watched her for a few seconds before walking over. Cinta didn't even notice her coming, and that made the corner of Vel's mouth lift.
She leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek.
Cinta jumped.
“Vel!” Her hand flew immediately to her chest. “Stars!”
Vel let out a tired laugh.
“Hello to you too.” She rested her forearms on the counter beside her girlfriend. “What exactly has you so glued to that phone that you didn't even notice I got home?”
Cinta's smile returned instantly, a smile that answered the question before she ever opened her mouth.
“I was talking to Key.”
Vel raised an eyebrow.
“Key?” Her other eyebrow quickly followed. “We're at that stage already?”
Cinta tried to look innocent.
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?” Vel repeated, stretching her neck, she tried to catch a glimpse of the screen. “How long have you two even known each other?”
Then she slowly turned her head toward her girlfriend. Cinta rolled her eyes, but a laugh escaped her anyway.
“Don't look at me like that.”
“I'm trying to decide whether I should be impressed or concerned.”
Cinta only smiled. Despite all the teasing, Vel ended up laughing too, then she leaned her hip against the counter and studied her girlfriend's expression for a few seconds.
She looked happy.
“So...” Vel crossed her arms. “What have you two been talking about so much?”
Cinta's smile widened immediately.
“I asked her out.”
“Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes.” Cinta nodded and lifted her eyebrow.
Vel closed her eyes for a moment. “You are impossible.”
“I prefer confident.”
“And her?”
“She said yes.” The answer came both quick and proud, Vel opened her eyes.
“She said yes?”
“She said yes.”
“After knowing you for less than twenty-four hours?”
“See? I thought that was promising too. And it’s been more than that! ”
Vel let her head fall back dramatically.
“That's it. I'll pray for her soul.”
Cinta burst out laughing. “You don't even know her!”
“I don't need to know her,” Vel replied. “If she agreed to go out with you that quickly, her judgment is clearly compromised.”
“You went out with me too!”
“And look where that got me.”
“Living with me?”
“Exactly. No way back now.”
Cinta laughed and got to her feet, stepping between the blonde's knees and draping her arms over her shoulders.
“You love me.”
“Unfortunately,” Vel replied.
Cinta's smile widened immediately, she leaned forward and stole a quick kiss from her girlfriend's lips.
“How was work?” Vel huffed and pulled back just enough to make a face. “That bad?” Cinta asked, amused.
“The she-devil has a natural talent for ruining my day.”
That earned another laugh from the brunette. Vel watched her girlfriend for a few seconds before shaking her head.
“We should do something to take our minds off things.”
“Sure. What did you have in mind?”
“No idea.” Vel shrugged. “But I'm pretty sure She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is going to ground me out of pure spite.”
“Sounds plausible.”
“Thank you for the support.”
“I'm being realistic.” Cinta shrugged, still smiling, and watched Vel roll her eyes.
“Bix invited me over to her place Friday night.”
“We could go on Saturday afternoon,” Cinta replied immediately. “We'll stay for dinner, you'll complain about work, complain about your boss, and complain about whatever else crosses your path.”
“That sounds specific.”
“I know you.”
That pulled an involuntary smile from the blonde. “Fair.”
Cinta grinned in response. And, Stars, it was impossible to compete with that smile.
Vel shook her head.
“You're only suggesting that because you want to go out with your girl on Friday night.”
“Maybe.”
“Cinta.”
“Definitely.”
The blonde let out a tired laugh. “Just be careful.”
“I always am.” Cinta pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek, and Vel raised an eyebrow.
“That is probably the biggest lie you've ever told.”
“I've survived this long.”
“You're impossible.” The blonde rolled her eyes.
“And yet you're still here.”
Cinta stole another quick kiss before turning her attention back to her phone. The smile returned to her face almost immediately as soon as the screen lit up.
Vel watched that for a moment before letting out a resigned sigh. She started toward the bedroom, but stopped in the hallway and pointed at the phone in her girlfriend's hand.
“Just don't fall in love.”
Cinta's grin only widened. “We're well past that stage.”
Vel closed her eyes.
“We're all doomed.”
Cinta's laughter followed her all the way down the hall.