"Well this is a challenge," I sarcastically laughed at Bex, who'd chosen the instrument. I wiggled the splintered chopsticks back and forth finding the exact angles needed to manipulate the lock. I heard the satisfying "pop" of the lock and grinned.
"3.4 seconds," Liz giggled, telling me what I'd already calculated, "I think that's a record." I hushed them and leaving them with a coy smile, crept into the ever silent library and temporary home of two of the best agents in the world, gravitating towards the lone light. The boy with the dark hair touched his fingers to the ledge of the fireplace, a seemingly innocent gesture. I knew better.
"Hello Blackthorne Boy," I said, stepping out of the shadows. His body stiffened for a millisecond, blink and you'd have missed it, and then turned. With a grin and a nod, he acknowledged my presence.
"Hi Gallagher Girl." I ignored the not-so-subtle beating of my heart and met his eyes, watching him watch trail my fingers across the shelves. The book's spines passing beneath my fingers, I watched his pupils dilate ever so slightly and paused.
"Advanced Encryption and You Zach? I thought we covered that sophomore year."
"I don't know if you recall, but I was a little distracted," Zach smirked at me. Ignoring the blush that I didn't doubt had appeared, I pulled the book from the shelf and opened it, finding exactly what I expected to.
I raised a single eyebrow and asked, "Did we not agree not to spy on them?"
"Why are you here Gallagher Girl," he inquired, pushing himself away from the ledge, striding towards me. I swallowed as he trapped me against the bookshelf. With an innocent smile and lowered lashes I said, "I just always seem to be in the wrong places at the wrong time."
With an "Oh really" that sounded more like "Pft, yeah right" he brushed a lock of hair off my face and leaned in, only to be interrupted by footsteps that could only mean one thing. They were back early.
His cool hand gripped mine as we sped around the shelf, returning to the shadows, the only place I felt comfortable these days, just as she descended the steps, him following close behind. Through the shelves, we watched her plunk herself on the over-stuffed chair, shut her eyes, and smile, evidently enjoying being reunited with her favourite chair after a long day. Seconds passed before her grin left her face, replaced by a suspicious shadow. My heart literally stopped and Zach's grip on my hand tightened. My Aunt's eyes flickered open and observed the posture of the irritating man she'd come to love. "What," she demanded, addressing the elephant in the room (not without reminiscing about the unfortunate elephant she had to escort out of the Louvre with only a pony-tail holder and lint roller two summers ago). As the subject's dreamy, yet defeated, blue eyes met my Aunt's, I glanced at Zach's stony face and placed a reassuring and small hand on his arm. A sigh so heavy that I feared it might actually break the only part of the Gallagher Academy still wholly standing, fell from the Subject's lips and he voiced his greatest fear. "I don't know what to do Abby, about the boy," he stammered, "my son." With an understanding nod from the prettiest girl in the room (and the only one to his knowledge), he continued. "I didn't know. Surely he knows that? I'd have found him I swear it. I'd never be the man my father was."
I'd only seen my Aunt Abby react quicker once, on that chilly and fateful night in DC. She was at his side in a fraction of a second. "As much as I hate to admit it, you're a brilliant agent Townsend," Abby started, noting the cocky gleam in her boyfriend's eyes, "but even you couldn't fake the surprise that was written across your face when she told everyone. He knows Edward."
I met Zach eyes and wanted to kiss the sadness and longing right of his face. He turned his head and smiled at the ground, and I ignored the single tear that deepened the colour of the carpet in front of his feet.
"He knows," my Aunt reiterated as a whisper as she wrapper her arm around Agent Townsend's middle and rested her head on his shoulder. A silence covered the room like my favourite blanket at my Grandparent's ranch in Nebraska; soft, warm, and comfortable.
"At least he has Cammie," Aunty Abby offered.
"Yeah," Townsend agreed, "he's lucky to have a Gallagher Girl; he's lucky to have her."
"Oh so you like Gallagher Girls now do you?" my Aunt teased.
"Just some," he replied smiling mischievously at her. "I just wish I could catch one." A familiar gleam danced in his eyes as realisation hit my Aunt and she raced up the stairs. Laughing, he followed her, his hands ready to torture her with tickles. They disappeared from sight, and when the shrieking began, we stole out of the room and wordlessly navigated to Zach's room.
I stood at the door as he entered and began to wash his face, silently noting the similarities between him and his father; their arrogance, their posture, their grins, their ability to switch demeanours so easily and readily. Emotionally exhausted, I plonked myself on his bed, took off my shoes and lay down, noting the way my now longer hair spread around my head like a halo. I close my eyes and hummed a song I'd once heard in Roseville as I weaved my fingers into my hair, willing the palpable tension that dominated the room to ease.
After a few moments, I felt the bed dip as he eased himself onto it. "So, plant any good bugs lately?" I cheekily asked, repeating the exact words he'd spoken to me two and a half years ago on a side street in Roseville. My weary eyes fluttered open and were met with his dark green ones, directly above mine and despite all my training, I giggled. "Just so you know Gallagher Girl," he whispered softly, "I'm going to kiss you now."