Despite the effort I put into sexing up my fighting wardrobe and the suggestive invitation I made in my cottage that morning, Jesse doesn’t come over that night—nor does he come over the following night after I extend the invitation again.
I’m trying not to hold it against him here—I know he’s stressed about the Fae thing, and worried about going too far with me, on top of that—but with every passing day, I’m having an increasingly hard time ignoring it.
Training is going well, for what that’s worth. Using my telekinesis to my advantage easily makes me the best fighter in the field; all we really have to work on is keeping me from looking like I’m thinking about conjuring. No one from the HQ seems to have caught onto our little early-morning outings, and I’m always back in time for Emer
