“I was on my way to say hello, but you were faster.”
By the time I had finished my sentence, Claire seemed to be struggling to keep her face straight. There was something, a pull from her side which made me feel like I needed to wrap my arms around her. But I didn’t.
“Shall we go over and sit with the others?” she suggested and started walking without waiting for my response. It seemed to be a talent of hers that her face looked so much different from how she felt. She must have been keeping up a facade for too long to be authentic. Again, I was grateful her emotions had been carved into my heart, the pattern I kept getting glimpses of, and yet the girl kept avoiding opening up and allowing herself to become vulnerable. Patience. She would.
I followed her to a sofa and earned a chilly look from Sporty who was sitting between Amber and the other two I didn’t know. One of them was in a deep conversation with a guy who was radiating purest interest and affection toward her. It caught me off guard to see something this authentic in a club. When I looked back at Claire, I noticed she had been watching the other girl, too and there was gratitude enveloping her.
“Nice to see you again,” I greeted the group on the sofa and got a white-toothed smile from Amber, a wave from the ones I didn’t know, and a look from Sporty that made it clear I was unwelcome. Claire didn’t seem to notice. She sat next to Sporty and waited for me to sit next to her.
I handed her one of the drinks and raised my glass, holding her gaze intently for the first time that night.
“To the most beautiful girl in Aurora,” I spoke as quietly as the music would allow, not wanting Sporty or anyone else to overhear how I was voicing the truth. It was our moment.
Claire blushed and hid her face in the dim light. One moment there was happiness around her and the next there was doubt. Had I done something wrong?
Before I could make sense of her quick change of emotions, Amber pulled her off the couch and yelled, “Our song! We’ve got to dance!” Enthusiasm was blowing out from her in every direction.
A trail of relief followed Claire as she disappeared onto the dance floor with an apologetic smile and a shrug. I understood. If she was even remotely as insecure about what was going on between us as I was, she would feel like running and being helplessly drawn at the same time. She looked a little lost on the dance floor, the same as she did when she was walking alone. But her movements were in time with the music, it was obvious she felt the beat, and she looked natural doing so. Not like Amber, who was fishing for every guy’s attention with the way she was dancing. It made me feel ashamed to be a man when I perceived how every second man within sight was lusting for that girl. Why was our species so weak? So driven by physical desires rather than the heart? Had someone asked me this a couple of months ago, I would have laughed. But then, after Maureen’s failed attempts at seduction, I could tell for sure the male heart was as strong as the male flesh, if not stronger. My immunity to any girl's allure since I had met Claire—in real life and even before, as an emotional pattern—was almost ridiculous.
Claire glanced over her shoulder and I had to suppress a smile when I noticed she was watching me as I was observing Amber and her audience. What was going on inside her head?
For a moment I wondered, then Sporty was right behind Claire, too close for my taste, and moving with her. He obviously was enjoying the moment before Claire turned around and yelled something at him I couldn’t hear over the noise. Her words had an immediate effect on Sporty’s behavior and he tried to turn his embarrassment into a joke by doing a parody of a ballerina.
Claire easily forgave him and laughed. The way her anger had turned into amusement within a second gave me an impression of how much spark this girl had. It was wonderful to have the opportunity to just watch her be herself, no masquerade, no awkward silence. It made everything so real, I could feel the pattern in my heart come to life right in front of me. It was almost painful that she didn’t know a fraction of how I felt about her, and it was clear if I didn’t confess everything to her, she might not even realize I’m even interested in her. Interested was an understatement.
It was way past midnight when I lost the fight against my better judgment and rushed onto the dance floor, ready to spill then and there, but seeing Sporty and the others next to her made me grab her arm instead. I gently pulled her off the dance floor and out to the street, watching her mouth open and close with a smile, words escaping inaudibly into the music. She was surprised, not negatively, about my sudden demand for her attention.
The streetlights were painting patterns on the sidewalk where I stood, holding her arm in my hand and realizing I was about to tell Claire the truth.
“I want to talk to you before I don’t have a chance.”
My eyes were probing hers while she questioned me with her own.
“Claire I—I—” The words didn’t come out and she was probably going to think I was crazy.
“Yes?” There was impatience in her voice, but also honest interest. Could I really share what I wanted to? That she was there, engraved into my heart.
“—I can’t.” Apparently, I couldn’t. Not because she wasn’t willing to listen, but because I was too weak.
As Claire turned and started walking, disappointment and annoyance hit me in the face. Where was she going?
“No, wait!” I sighed. “I have to talk to you.” This wasn’t optional any longer.
“I thought you can’t.”
“Yes, but …I need to talk to you.” I needed to, for my own sanity.
Whatever negative emotion from her side had clouded the moment was gone. There was even a sheepish smile in her voice as she demanded I walk her home as a condition to get to talk to her.
I didn’t need a second invitation. My feet were already carrying me toward her. I was so fast all of a sudden, it was a bit scary, and when I unintentionally rushed past her, she called after me.
“Are we in a hurry?” She sounded angry. “Adam, slow down.”
When I finally managed to follow her demand, I found her taking off her shoes in a cloud of anger, worry, longing, and tiredness. The way she was balancing in the middle of the road, pulling on her shoe until it came off, lightened my heart. It was authentic again. Her frustration was written all over her face. I didn’t need to read her emotions to be certain. It was also kind of funny.
“You are a strange girl, Claire Gabriel.” I couldn’t keep myself from saying it and regretted it at once. The anger had gotten the upper hand in her cloud and as she stalked off, barefoot, there was also suspicion mixing into it.
I let her lead the way and followed quietly. Her house wasn’t far and I wanted to at least make sure she got home safely. She didn’t look back once, it was as if she was on the run from me and my cryptic behavior. Who could blame her? By the time we arrived on her front porch, I was waiting for smoke to come out of her ears, that’s how upset she was. Her fingers couldn’t get hold of the keys and her frustration peaked with moisture in her eyes.
It physically hurt me to see her in emotional pain like this. Especially when I had caused her turmoil. Without thinking, I laid my hand on her cheek, ready to catch the first tear should it fall. She opened her eyes, looking at me as if she was seeing me for the first time, full of wonder, and all the frustration ceased.
Her skin was smooth and soft and invited more. I was weak and let my fingers wander along her jaw and her lips opened under my touch and she automatically leaned in.
I didn’t need to look anymore to know she was waiting for me to kiss her, it had been there in her eyes, it was in her breath and in the beat of her heart. With one last glance into my own soul, I knew this was right, and as my lips touched hers, the pattern burnt more deeply into my heart. It glowed and gleamed and heated me from inside.
Her keys hitting the floor tore us out of our moment. Before she could even move, I had fished for them and considered if it would be wise to just pick up where the keychain had interrupted us. Something in
her eyes told me it wasn’t.
“I’ll just go, then.” Maybe it was a good idea to suggest, maybe it wasn’t. I left it up to Claire to decide if she wanted the evening to end or if she wanted it to continue…
“Adam—come in. Sophie won’t notice. I bet she’s fast asleep. You wanted to talk to me—remember? Stay—”
I did remember. Every little detail I needed to share was boiling there under the surface. Feeling impatience again, I held the keys toward her and dropped them into her hand as she reached for them. A minor part of my brain was working on not getting nervous while the other, larger part kept going through variations of how to tell Claire I’d had a vision about her—her emotions, her personality, at least. How would she react? There was stress and doubt rolling off of her as she turned the key and crossed the threshold. It made me wonder if she was already regretting having invited me inside.
Two footsteps carried me into the doorway behind her, a magical doorway to her world. She stopped and turned and seemed surprised to see me standing there.
“Are you sure you want me to come in?” I gave her one last chance to change her mind. Never in my right mind would I try and push her into something she wasn’t ready for. To my relief, she nodded, and I was at her side in no time, closing the door and my own way out of this upcoming conversation.
As she led the way upstairs—to her room, I guessed—her walk wasn’t as swift as it had been when she had stalked away from me in the street. She stumbled on the steps and it didn’t seem to be just the fact that she hadn’t switched on the lights. She seemed to be insecure and worried about something. It made my own concern about how she was going to take the news slip to the back of my mind and fill me with her emotions instead. As she stumbled again, I reached out to touch her back and stabilized her with one hand. A light touch. Just enough so she wouldn’t fall backward if it happened again. At my touch, her emotions changed. The anticipation and excitement were back. Was she actually enjoying my hand?
“Can you give me a second?” she surprised me as we stopped at a door.
“Sure.” I couldn’t keep myself from smiling. Her room. She was embarrassed about what I might see if she didn’t check before I entered. As she slipped in and closed the door behind her, I imagined what her room would look like. Would it be girly? Would there be posters of boy bands? Would there be books? A science kit? What color would her sheets be? I swallowed and refrained from focusing on her bed too much.
I couldn’t help noticing the light blue sheets first thing as I crossed the threshold when she opened the door to let me in, a shy smile on her face. It reminded me of that first time I had seen her and it reminded me of a minute ago when our lips had touched for the first time. Immediately I didn’t even try to focus on the wooden shelves or the books on her bedside table, the CDs, or the small desk which was covered in books and papers. I reached for her hand without thinking. It was slender and soft and fit into mine. There was a light shudder as I brought it up to my mouth and kissed it. She was standing quietly, observing me, feeling the touch of my lips, eyes burning into mine as I glanced up from the palm of her hand. I took it as a signal she wanted me closer than that and willingly pulled her into my arms. It was as if an old wound suddenly stopped aching. Relief, joy. And there was excitement. Hers, mine. Enough to make me forget my intention had been to talk to her, share the origin of my interest in her… As I kissed her, she responded with equal intensity. Her fingers glided along my neckline, playing with a curl or two on their way from one side to the other. It was a sensation I couldn’t have imagined in my wildest dreams. I tightened my arms around her, scooped her up and carried her to her bed, my lips never leaving hers. What I was perceiving from her side only fueled my need to be close to her.
As my hand touched her shoulders and traced her collarbone, her jaw, her cheek, her eyes closed. Strands of her hair were tangled on her forehead as if she had just escaped a storm. It was beautiful, natural. I rolled to my side and brushed it away, remembering why I had come here. I leaned over to kiss her with all the intensity of my feelings for her and she locked her arms around my neck in reflex. It wasn’t easy to resist her scent, her soft, demanding lips. Claire’s emotions didn’t make it any easier either to focus on what I had to do, they kept tempting me to let go and drown in her desire.
With an act of pure willpower, I freed myself from her embrace and watched her as she let herself drop onto a light blue pillow. I rolled to my side again and pondered how to open the topic.
“I have been wondering for a long time what you would be like.” The words came out before I had made up my mind. Claire gave me a look that made me worried there wouldn't be any way I could explain what I needed to tell her without sounding like a complete maniac. “I knew you were near and I knew it wouldn’t be long until I met you.” At least, I had hoped so all this time. I admit, there had been times when I’d feared she would not even be in Aurora, but those fears seemed like from a different life now.
Claire shook her head and continued watching me with a bit of concern decorating her gentle features.
“I knew it was you the first time I saw you…” This sounded insane. How could she ever understand?
“What are you talking about?” She confirmed my thoughts. I had to go right into the topic, share everything, be honest. Honesty was always the best way to go, wasn’t it?
“It’s not a very common thing—I don’t know how to explain it to you—”
“You could at least try,” she suggested with a smile she didn’t even intend to be convincing.
Okay. I had to get it out. There was no turning back now. “Just don’t get scared, please.”
“Why would I be scared?” The authenticity of her words pushed me over the edge. With a glance at her bookshelf and a deep breath, I opened my mouth to say the one thing I’d been wanting to share since the moment I had spotted her in the cemetery.
“Claire, I knew you before we first met. I knew you before I saw you for the first time. As I said, it’s not easy to understand.” It wasn’t easy at all, not even for me. “Sometimes there are things I just know—about people, how they feel—even if they don’t know themselves.”
“What do you mean?” Curiosity and concern filled her eyes.
“Well, a guy today at the supermarket—he was radiating so much violence—I can't even guess why. Or Ms. Weaver, your history teacher, she’s alone too much for her own good, she needs company. Every time I see her she feels lonely, and I know she doesn’t want that company to be male.” I winked at her at that last part and then realized this might not have been the best thing to share. Now she knew I knew Ms. Weaver and she might figure out I’d been spying on her.
“I know her from my time at Aurora High,” I added so she wouldn’t waste a thought on that issue. “And the woman I saw in the park this morning when I went for a walk with Antonio,” I continued, “she’s pregnant. You can’t see it yet, but she felt motherly the way only pregnant women do…But, I don’t know why I know that. It’s not like I know what they think. It’s just—I just know when I look at them, I feel it.”
She stared at me, emotions neutral, probably wanting to hear me out before she jumped to conclusions. What I would have given to know her thoughts that moment. I wanted to beg her to tell me, but I wasn’t at the end of my story, yet. This was the important part.
“It was different with you, Claire. While I have to see the other people to know anything about them, I knew things about you before I first laid eyes on you. I knew that you would be wonderful and charming and that you would need time because you wouldn’t trust anyone too easily. Your trust is something to be earned. I knew that the facade you’ve been keeping up would be the hardest part to get by.” She blinked as I slowed down in pace and the wonder in her eyes was encouraging. “I knew that you would like Antonio, that your relationship with Ben would be difficult—Ben wouldn’t like you …you haven’t met Ben yet, he’s my brother. And—and I knew you would b
e beautiful—like an angel.” There it was. It was out. All of it. And I felt better—for one short minute, until I realized Claire still hadn’t reacted.
“Claire—say something?” Should I be worried?
“What, Adam? Are you some kind of maniac? I’ve had enough complications in my life. I’m still busy mending what has gone wrong in the past few years.”
I had been prepared for a bad reaction, but her words caught me off guard. They were hurtful and I could only begin to imagine how difficult her life must have been since her parents’ death.
“I don’t understand it myself, “ I stammered as the feeling of betrayal was seeking its way toward me from the other side of the bed. “I don’t know why I know all this stuff. It’s just that I know, and I can’t do anything about it.” I was sorry for how bad I had made her feel with my confession.
“So you’re telling me you know me. If you think so, why don’t you tell me what’s wrong with me, because I always fall for the freaks.” As she spoke, I could feel her pain, her self-doubt, her longing for something real, something without complications…something I couldn’t give her.
The beautiful pattern engraved in my heart burnt for a fraction of a second and I felt everything I had felt in the vision. She was there in my feelings and she was right there in front of me, both the same person. Her rejection was a consequence of her painful past, and a thorn in my soul. My head was throbbing and my neck and shoulders were tense, almost as if I was shivering from the cold, but there was a searing sensation right between my shoulder blades. I needed to get out of there.
As I glanced at her, I saw a green reflection in her eyes, covering up her disappointment, her anger, her pain.
“I have to go. I’m sorry.”
As I slid past her and rolled off the bed in movements too easy for the heaviness I felt at her rejection, something fell into place. I wouldn’t ever be with her until I got this new intuition, my sixth sense, under control. Maybe, if I could go back to being the old, rational Adam, I would have a chance with her. But not as who I was now. And it was clear I might not be able to revert back to what I had been before. It was delusional to even consider it.
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