To his relief, Sedgewick found that kissing, like dancing, was easy to pick up again.

Feyla's kiss was soft and tender, lingering just long enough for him to snap out of his shock and respond. She shifted, and his arms tightened around her waist in a sub-conscience effort to keep her from pulling away. A voice inside him started crying out that this was a terrible, horrible--

Feyla sighed against his mouth, her other arm joining the first around his neck as she brushed her fingers along his sensitive, pointed ears.

--Wonderful idea. He should have done this ages ago. What had he...been...thinking...

He threaded his hand through her long, silky hair. She tasted like honey and smelled of spices and wildflowers. Gates, was she something. Beautiful and sweet and caring and he, he lo--

She broke the kiss. Her eyes were wide as she stared at him and caught her breath. Fear-riddled thoughts pricked at the edges of his brain but had yet to collect enough for him to grasp.

Feyla gazed into his eyes with an intensity that usually made him panic but now seemed to suck him in like a vortex, unable to be drawn away. She cupped the side of his face and leaned closer, pressing her forehead against his own. Her eyes closed, finally breaking the spell that had held him captive.

"I love you, Sedgewick," she whispered softly as if telling a secret that only he could hear.

Panic slammed into his chest, paralyzing him as it froze the blood running through his pounding heart.

"Please say something," Feyla asked, her voice quivering with either fear or frustration.

He jerked away, stumbling back as if burned. This wasn't supposed to happen. She wasn't supposed to say, because she didn't, couldn't truly care, and he certainly didn't--did he? Yes. No! Possibly? The words flew through his mind as he attempted to control his frantic thoughts, but they slipped away as fast as the situation had. His breathing turned shallow and his fists clenched as his panic morphed into fury.

How dare she? What right did the woman think she had to go destroying his carefully constructed life, muddling up his emotions, and digging into his most private thoughts?

A small voice of reason attempted to remind him that for every instance where she'd tried to push her way in, there was one where he'd welcomed her. It was quickly crushed under the weight of his white-hot rage.

"Take it back," Sedgewick said, his voice as cold as steel and as sharp as a sword.

He ignored the pain that flashed across her face, but the hardened determination that followed it could not be so easily pushed aside.

"No! Sedgewick, I--"

"Stop this, do you understand?! I refuse to stand here and listen to you prattle on about some ridiculous schoolgirl infatuation!" he shouted, grasping at any excuse that let him push aside her confession.

Feyla's jaw clenched and she stalked closer, forcing him to back up. "I am not stopping and for once in your life, you are going to listen!" she shouted, jabbing a finger into his chest. Breathing in deeply, she crossed her arms in an obvious attempt to regain some composure.

"I love you. I have since--" she chuckled hollowly. "I don't even know when it started. But I do know that it's not a crush or an infatuation or some misplaced sense of gratitude." Her eyes flicked to the pavilion's rafters as she blinked back her developing tears. "At one point, I thought it was." She turned back towards him, her eyes now filled with an undeniable affection and vulnerability. "But I was wrong. It's not. I love you, Sedgewick Alverdyne."

She stepped closer and he shuffled backward in response. His back hit the railing, and his hands started shaking as he realized he had nowhere else to go.

Feyla bit her lip in the same way that had tempted and taunted him for years. "And I think if you were honest with yourself, you'd realize that you feel the same."

She stared at him with that same intense gaze that had always made him squirm. He knew what it meant now. The affection, the devotion, the...love. It was all there, shining like a fireball too bright and passionate to ignore. It scorched him with its intensity, yet drew him in with an irresistible pull that left him feeling--hellgates take that word--like she was dragging him over a precipice while whispering sweetly that the fall wouldn't kill him.

But it would. It always did.

Feyla reached out to touch him, but he snatched her wrist and moved to push her away. Her other hand shot forward and grabbed his shoulder while the first twisted around until she could lace her fingers through his. They stood there in a stalemate, locked in some twisted version of the way they'd touched while dancing. Tension hung between them, thicker than the humidity in the air. Their eyes spoke a challenge, taunting the other to take the final step that would seal the change to their status quo forever.

Feyla took it.

"No more dancing. No more games. No more vague words. Tell me how you truly feel," she said, a tremor returning to her voice.

His eyes flickered over her, and what he saw made him pause before answering. Feyla was trembling and she seemed just as terrified as he had looked earlier. Two thoughts warred within him, one shouting that he should just kiss her again and the other whispering that she was dragging him into a world of pain and he should escape while he still could.

Wait. This was Feyla. They were friends. She wasn't going to hurt him.

The world around him seemed to freeze as each second stretched into an eternity. His fingers began to tighten around hers as those phrases continued to echo across his mind. This was Feyla. She wasn't going to hurt him. This was Feyla. She wasn't going to hurt him. This. Was. Feyla. She wasn't going to--

Yes, she is.

No! Feyla was different. She would never purposely--

The result will be the same.

A spark of hope lit up her face and his pounding heart seized.

Always the same...

Her fingers tightened around his in return.

Always the same...

"Sedgewick..." she whispered, taking a tiny step closer.

Run.

He jerked free of her grip, pulling away like a madman. Feyla lurched forward in a last, desperate attempting to bridge the gap now between them.

Hardening himself against the pain already flooding her face, Sedgewick summoned his most critical and aloof of glares, one usually reserved for when his underlings had done something incredibly stupid. He leaned back against a pillar and forced himself to be the picture of unapproachable arrogance. It was time to finish this.

"Go back to the party, Miss Everbloom. Before you embarrass yourself further."

He steeled himself and stared passed her, but was unable to escape the look of utter heartbreak on her face. A sob caught in her throat, the sound stabbing him instantly as the cruelty of his words hit him. His eyes widen as he dropped his defensive stance.

Gates.

"Feyla," he choked out as he reached forward to comfort her.

She smacked his hand away, swallowing another sob. "Stay away from me! You're--you're a bitter, heartless, coward of man and I wish I'd never set eyes on you!"

Her words stabbed him, hurting almost as much as her sob had. He had to fix this. He'd just...do a bit of groveling. Yes! He'd wax eloquently about how sorry he was and how he valued their friendship. Feyla would roll her eyes and smile that lovely smile. Then she'd hug him and say that she didn't mean any of it and kissing him had just been a silly impulse that she'd let get away from her. After that, they'd turn in for the night and everything would slip back into that comfortable place where Feyla neither loved nor hated him. Yes. He could fix this. He had to fix this.

"Feyla, listen--"

"No. I am done listening. You know why?" she asked, her broken voice gaining strength and momentum with every word. "Because I'm going to give you exactly what you're always asking for. You want me to leave you alone? Fine. Be alone. I quit."

Her words echoed throughout the hot night air as more tears stained her flushed cheeks. She choked back one last sob before storming out of the pavilion.

Sedgewick bolted after her, stopping at the edge of the steps to call out to her still retreating figure. "Get back here, woman! We're not finished! I--I'm sorry, all right? And I know you don't mean it. Lying is unbecoming!"

Feyla didn't stop. She didn't even look back at him.

"She doesn't mean it," he whispered, desperate to convince himself.

He was only halfway successful.

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And there you have it! Hehe... Please don't kill me. Any guesses on what will happen next? Don't forget to vote and comment!