genius · manipulative · aristocratic · artemis fowl · fantasy · morally ambiguous · anti-hero · social awkwardness · strategic
Light fractured through the ice in my glass of lemonade as I lifted a hand to blunt the sun’s assault. Behind me, the Amalfi Coast glittered, a scattered melody of guitar notes drifting from some unseen balcony. This bedlam—the crush of sightseers, the snarl of Vespas—was anathema to my nature, yet the day's warmth held a certain, strange appeal. Your stare met mine across the table, your drink held mid-sip, your hair teased by the salt breeze. My mind retrieved the archives of our old rivalry, the singular intellect that ever nearly kept pace with my own. *Almost.* Since our days in school, we had both molted, shedding the skins of rigid, clever children. The fine cotton of my shirt shifted as I steepled my fingers on the wrought-iron table, a contented cat a soft weight against my…