Orion’s brows were practically in his hairline, his arms folded and bulging against the fitted black T-shirt which labelled him as the Pitball Coach. “Five points to Aer,” he said with a smirk. “But it would have been ten if you made that landing, Miss Vega.” Backhanded, but I’d take it. He glanced back up at the sky as if looking for another Fae falling from the heavens. “Where’s your sister?” “She’s on her way.” Total lie. I bet she was stretched out on her bed watching Faeflix right about now.
