After that, all I could do was blush and hope he’d move on to the next question.
All afternoon, Dorian was light and carefree. Several times I thought through the questions I have for him about his past and magic and Druids, but I kept deciding to put them aside for just a little while longer. I thought that our first afternoon in the quarry had been amazing – he was so open and honest with me. This day though was far far better – he seemed happy and at ease with himself while he fired questions at me. I should have felt guilty for doing so much of the talking, but his questions were so quick, and he seemed so fascinated by my answers that I didn’t have time to feel any guilt. Maybe it was because he didn’t have to think of his own story, or because he hasn’t had a chance to really talk with someone in person for a long time but seeing him be happy was so astounding that I didn’t care what the reason was.
I remembered how handsome he was in the quarry with sunlight streaming through the trees onto his face and hair. This afternoon, he seemed even more perfect and I think it’s because no memory can compare with the intensity I feel when I’m near him. I wish that I could know if attraction was always this strong, but before meeting Dorian I didn’t even know what it really was - and now I need to be so cautious about what I say that I don’t even know if I should talk about him with anyone.
Compared to him, I’m frumpy and young and I haven’t been anywhere in the world that’s worth talking about. I wish I could flip a switch and become the type of beautiful sophisticated woman that someone like him could fall for, but that’s so far from the person I am now I can’t even imagine a path that would get me there.
As the afternoon quickly disappeared, one thought became more and more persistent - I need to figure out why he came back; I need to know if there’s a way I can keep him in my life because I want this man – more than anything I’ve ever wanted before. If he chose to disappear again without a trace, it would cause me physical pain. I must find a way to keep that from happening.
“Will you tell me now why you came back?” I ask, hoping to get a clue that might make me able to bind him to me in some way.
“I’ll make you a deal,” he said with a small smirk on his lips. “If you join me for lunch each school day, you can ask, and I’ll answer one question during each meal.”
Lunch every day with Dorian? I should definitely go buy a lottery ticket – today is my lucky day.
“Any question?” I ask.
“Anything, but only one per day. If you don’t mind, I can cook for you here, so we don’t need to worry about privacy,” he said.
“Okay,” I say with a grin on my face.
Dorian’s answering smile is glorious. I can’t imagine that an angel’s face could be more beautiful.
“I will see you tomorrow then, Ms. Rose” Dorian says while standing and reaching a hand out toward me to help me up off the oversized couch.
We’d been sitting so long that my legs feel a little unsteady supporting my own weight at first.
Dorian walks me out of his house and right up to my car where he opens the door for me to get in. I wish I could figure out some clever reason to stay. I want to spend so much more time with him, but the thought of us having a standing lunch date takes away some of the sting. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to spend enough time with this man, so I hope he doesn’t mind that I have about a million questions to ask at the rate of one per day.
Driving home, I feel like I might just float away because I’m so happy.
Chapter 11
When I walk into the kitchen at home, Wyatt is there with my mom and dad. They’ve already started eating supper, so I hurry in and sit down. It’s odd that they started without calling me. I’m still stuffed from the amazing lunch I had, but I know that my mom won’t let me get away without eating.
Wyatt is the first one to talk. “Wow, Lucky. You’re all dressed up again? Where were you?” he asks.
“Study session at school,” I say, not wanting to share where I really was. My parents don’t seem to notice anything odd, but Wyatt gives me a look that lets me know that he can tell when I’m not completely truthful. I feel bad for lying, but now that I know what can happen to people if I tell them too much, I have even more of a reason to keep Dorian a secret. I wouldn’t know what to say, even if he wasn’t an indestructible immortal who’s curse I’m somehow immune to.
I’d like to say that I was on a date with Dorian, but that would be a lie too – I just wish it wasn’t. I feel so attracted to Dorian, but so far, he’s given me no solid indication that he’s drawn to me for the same reason – he’s probably just grateful that my touch can give him some reprieve from the curse. I can’t wait until tomorrow when I can ask him why he came back.
My mother interrupts my swirling train of thought. “Wyatt tried to call you several times today,” she says chiding me. Then I realize why I didn’t get those calls and why I wasn’t called about supper either.
“Oh, I think I left my cell phone here.” I hadn’t thought about it all day and right up until this moment I didn’t even realize it wasn’t with me. I’m also remembering that Wyatt and I were planning to hang out this afternoon. We didn’t have anything in stone, but now I feel bad for blowing him off.
“We know. We heard it ringing in you room and called him to say you were out,” she says obviously indicating that I was being inconsiderate to Wyatt. I don’t think my parents would speak up for any of my other friends, but they’ve always preferred Wyatt. I don’t know if it’s because he helps out on the farm, or because they’ve seen him grow up, but they both treat him almost like their own son.
Wyatt seems at ease with them too.
“Oh, it’s okay,” says Wyatt. “If Lucky was around, I wouldn’t have been able to help fix the fence.” Wyatt winks at me and then smiles at my Dad who returns his look with a smile and a nod.
With that one wink, I know that my rudeness is forgiven, and that Wyatt won’t hold it against me.
The rest of supper continues on with casual banter about the farm, college and Wyatt’s job. It’s all fairly mundane stuff, but the amazing day I had with Dorian and the knowledge that I will see him again tomorrow seems to make me feel happier about everything.
After we’re all done eating, my parents leave me and Wyatt alone to clean up. Wyatt is his usual buoyant self. He met up with some old friends from school yesterday and he fills me in on how each of them is doing. He was always so popular, but he never let anyone cut me out of anything, so I know all of the people he was friends with too. It was nice to hear what people were doing now that so many of them have moved away. Wyatt’s mood reflected mine, and he was even happier than usual as the conversation naturally progressed to reliving stories of our times together.
After everything was cleaned up, Wyatt and I went to my room and watched TV while we talked. The last thing I remember was feeling tired and leaning up against Wyatt’s arm while we watched an old black and white episode of I Love Lucy.
✽ ✽ ✽
Waking up, I realize that Wyatt must have picked me up and put me in bed under the comforter. I’m still dressed and feeling a little grimy from sleeping with makeup and hairspray. I have just enough time to take a quick shower before I throw on jeans and a sweatshirt and run out the door to make my first class. If I’m going to be seeing Dorian every day, I’ll have to remember to set my alarm a bit earlier, so I have more time to get ready in the morning. I may also need to get some new clothes. Except for the Ripon sweatshirt, I don’t think I’ve gotten any new clothes since my mom took me shopping before my Jr. year of high school. I sigh as I glance in the mirror as I rush past – at least I had time to take a shower.
My first class of the day feels like it’s never going to end, but I forget all that as soon as I walk into Biology and see Dorian smiling at me from the back of the room. I see that he’s wearing jeans and a red Ripon sweatshirt that matches mine. He looks like he could have just walked out of a photo shoot and I kn
ow I don’t look as good in my too big sweatshirt and still damp ponytail, but at least I can feel a little more comfortable now that I see we’re wearing basically the same thing.
He looks young and happy – still beautiful, but so much different than before. His smile now is almost completely free of the pain that was so dominant on his face when I first met him. As I walk up the stairs to the back row, he stands and picks up his books from the desk next to his and places them back on his own. My heart clenches at the realization that he was saving a spot for me.
With one hand he gestures toward the now empty desk as he holds the other hand against the middle of his body and bows slightly. To everyone else in the room, that gesture would look like a parody. I can see it as a sign of Dorian’s roots in an earlier time.
“Nice sweatshirt,” I say as I take the seat Dorian had saved. He smiles back at me with a full gleaming white smile. His whole face looks bright and happy; the edges of his eyes are slightly crinkled, and his dimples are fully showing. It makes my heart melt.
“When in Rome,” he says gesturing toward me. Leaning in slightly, his gaze turns a little mischievous “I hope you’re hungry.”
“For information,” I say smiling back at him.
“Is information all you’re hungry for?” he asks.
“No,” I say shaking my head.
“Good,” he says. “I’ve already made something for lunch.” I’m glad he didn’t ask me what I really wanted, because it wasn’t food.
Professor Kondy enters the room and shouts “Silence!” I guess I’m not going to get the chance to talk with Dorian until class is over.
I try to pay attention to the professor’s lecture, but mostly I’m focused on trying to not look over at Dorian during class. The last thing I need is for Dorian to catch me ogling him – again. I’m reminded of those pictures that Dorian drew of me and I remember that he’s already seen me gape at him enough that he could draw it in perfect detail.
Every time I hear him shift in his seat, it takes all my energy to not turn my head. From my periphery vision, I can see his hand wrapped tight around the edge of his desktop, and I feel an electric pull that takes all my strength to keep from reaching out to hold it.
Finally, when class is over, I see Dorian release the grip on his desk from the corner of my eye. I look over at him just as he’s turning his head toward me and we both smile. In the part of my head that likes to fantasize, I imagine that he was trying to control his desires too.
We both pack up our things and before we leave, Dorian asks “May I carry your bag?” I’m a little shocked by the request and my first thought is ‘why’, but then I realize that it’s a sign of Dorian’s manners – I’m just not used to someone doing that for me.
“Sure,” I say, and hand over my bag. Dorian takes both our bags in one hand and holds out his other hand in front of me.
“Would you mind?” he asks gently. We’ve held hands before, but never in such a public place. Does that make it different? Everyone who sees us holding hands will assume that we’re dating – oh, how I wish that were true.
I’m sure that he’s holding my hand because I’m the only person that he can touch without harm (and because my touch kept him from killing a tree?), but I wish he would want this even if he could touch everyone else.
Dorian leads me out the side exit of the lecture hall, and along the stony bluff for just a minute until we reach a steep wooden staircase that winds itself up into the vertical face. Looking up, I realize that this must be the stairs leading to Dorian’s house.
The staircase isn’t wide enough in most spots to accommodate two people side by side, so Dorian lets me walk up first but he still holds one of my hands. I keep my other hand tight on the railing. I didn’t think I was afraid of heights, but by the time we reach the top I feel very grateful to be on flat land again.
Once inside the house, Dorian leads me into the kitchen where I take a seat at the kitchen island. Dorian gets to work immediately pulling things out of the fridge and a large roasting pan from his oven.
First, he plates up a bowl of Gazpacho Verde with Burrata cheese. I’ve never had green soup before, but it’s really good. As I watch Dorian eating across from me, I see that he’s dipping his bread in the smooth cold soup, and I do the same. The chewiness of the bread is perfect with the cream of the soup.
“How did you learn to cook like this?” I ask.
“It took a long time,” he says smiling. “I didn’t know how to boil an egg in the beginning. I always had the staff cook meals and then leave, but everything would be cold by the time I got back so I decided to learn how to cook for myself.
“I would write down questions I had at night and leave it on the kitchen counter with samples for the cook to respond to in the morning.” Dorian is moving around the kitchen again cutting and arranging food to create two more beautiful plates.
“It took two weeks before I was able to make my first decent soft-boiled egg, but slowly I figured out how to do more. Recently, YouTube has been very helpful.”
“YouTube?” I ask giggling in disbelief. When I think of Dorian, I am usually trying to imagine him somewhere in the nineteenth century, so the thought of him searching through YouTube is kinda unexpected.
“Sure, you can find anything on there,” he says with a look that says, ‘why not?’
Dorian sets a plate in front of me with a small flourish, “Spinach and feta stuffed rack of lamb.” There are sauces and garnishes spread all around the plate that add color.
I glance over Dorian’s shoulder at the clock and see that the time I have for lunch is already half over. If I’m going to find out why Dorian came back, I need to bring it up now.
I wish I had a better way to change the topic, but without one I just look down at my plate while I talk hoping that I don’t look too awkward as I ask. “So…why did you change your mind and come back?” I look up at him from under my eyelashes hoping that my question didn’t sour his mood. Either way, I need to know the answer, but I’d really like to keep the happy version of Dorian.
He hasn’t changed into sullen Dorian, but his smile looks more mischievous somehow. “I think you’ve already asked your question for the day Ms. Rose, and I’ve answered with the story of how I learned to cook,” he says.
What? No! “But that’s not the question I was planning on asking!” I say a little shocked at the thought of not finding out why he came back.
Like he’s pleased at my reaction, Dorian continues, “There’s always tomorrow…”
Tomorrow? Of course, I’d be happy to come tomorrow, but I’ve got a thousand questions, and this was the one I picked out for today! If that’s how he’s going to play it, I’m gonna need to be more careful about what I ask.
“So, do you cook?” he asks innocently trying to divert my attention. I decide to answer before I can look to dejected over not getting my question answered.
“Not really,” I admit a little sheepish. “But I know enough to help my mom when she needs it,” I add.
“What does that entail,” he asks.
“I measure, I stir. I can knead bread and put a crumb coat on a cake,” I say a little shyly. “My mom does a lot of cooking, so I picked up on some things just by being around, but I don’t think I’ve ever made anything completely on my own – she’s always there.”
“That sounds really nice,” he says
“Yeah” I guess it is. I’ve never thought about it before as something special.
For the rest of lunch, Dorian asks me about my mom’s cooking. He wants to know what my favorites are and what she makes most often. I never really noticed before, but the answers to those two questions are mostly the same.
In the beginning I was a little embarrassed to answer Dorian’s questions because my mom’s food is so simple compared to Dorian’s creations, but he seemed so interested that I got over it quickly.
We talked so much that we were both almost late for afternoon classes, and
our conversation picked up again during English lit.
Dorian seemed perfectly content to answer any question I would ask as long as it didn’t pertain to his past – that must be the key to this one question per day deal. I’ll need to remember that for tomorrow.
At the end of English lit, Dorian carried my bag to my car for me while holding my hand. When he said a quick good bye and turned around to leave, I desperately wanted him to stay. I racked my brain for something to bring him back, but couldn’t come up with anything, so I just sat in my car watching Dorian as he walked away toward his house. After he was completely out of sight, I looked down at my phone to see a string of messages from Emily.
“OMG! Call me!”
“We NEED 2 talk!”
“Come over after class – Emergency!”
I shoot off a quick response to let her know I’m coming over and start driving toward the dorms.
Standing at Emily’s door I try to predict what the source of the messages might be. Whenever Em was going through something that I considered a crisis she would never use an exclamation point or call it an emergency. Those things were usually saved for something like a bad haircut or a stain on her favorite dress, so I wasn’t too worried, but I was curious.
Before I can even knock, Em throws open the door and grabs my wrist to pull me inside.
“Get in here!” she shouts with a crazed look in her eye. Oh no, she looks even more worked up than the time her custom dyed shoes didn’t exactly match her prom dress.
“Okay, okay,” I say as I let her drag me in.
“Sit!” she says pointing to the spot next to where she was diving onto her bed. “Madison said that you’re dating Dorian Smith - Tell me everything!”
Lucky: Dorian Gray Novels Book 1 Page 10