by Jackson Ford
A clinking, clattering noise from the far end of the block: Harry, pushing his shopping cart full of bottles, black bags bulging off its sides. He’s still wearing his blue raincoat, despite the heat. I lift my arm in a wave—automatic even now—and he returns it, his grin visible even from where I am.
Same street, same Harry. It’s like I never left at all.
My first instinct is to hug Nic. Wrap my arms around and just never, ever let go. But as I approach, his body tenses ever so slightly. The movement is like a very thin needle plunging into my heart.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey.”
“Thanks for coming. I…” I take a deep breath. “I didn’t know if they’d let you out of work, but—”
A smile plays at the edges of his mouth. “You do know it’s Sunday, right? They work associates hard, but we do get some time off.”
“Um…”
He peers at me. “You don’t know what day of the week it is, do you?”
“I’ve been kind of busy. And by busy, I mean unconscious.”
“Fair enough. Although I probably could’ve got out of work anyway. My boss is terrified of me now.”
“Why?”
“When they let me come back in, it was with a couple of dudes in black suits. They told her that I’d been seconded to the government for a special assignment, and that under no circumstances was I to be fired or laid off.”
The silence stretches out for a second too long. “Hey, can we go inside?” I say. “I mean, if you want to…”
“Right. Yeah.”
The house is dark and very slightly stuffy. Everything is right where I left it, although there’s a little more dust than normal. Seeing my possessions calms me, just a little—my records, my books, the spices in my tiny-ass kitchen. For the first time I stop feeling like this is a dream.
We sit on the couch, a few feet apart. I’m just getting comfortable when I think I should draw back the curtains, half turn to get off the couch, then decide not to. A shaft of sunlight lies across the leg of Nic’s jeans, dust motes turning in the still air.
“So—” he starts.
I interrupt him: “Shit. I never actually told you.”
“What?”
“I’m so sorry, I totally spaced, with everything that happened—”
“Tell me what?”
“My real name. It’s not actually Teagan Frost.”
Nic raises an eyebrow.
“It’s Emily. Emily Jameson. Although to be honest, I don’t really like that name any more, but I totally understand if…”
“Let’s just stick with Teagan for now.” His smile looks forced, almost painful.
“There’s something else I want to tell you, too,” I say.
“There’s more?”
“Just…” I hold up my hand. I spent quite a bit of the drive over thinking about how I was going to phrase this, and I can’t risk getting knocked off my stride. That happens, and the words will just turn to vapour in my head. I’ve told Nic a lot about who I am, but there’s one thing I haven’t told him yet. If there’s going to be any chance of us ever being together, he has to hear this.
“When you got us that reservation at N/Naka,” I tell him, “you were hoping it would be a date. Like a romantic date.”
He closes his eyes. “I would never have made you—”
“No, it’s OK. It’s totally OK. And I know it looked like I just blew you off, or friend-zoned you, or whatever. I get that. But what I’m trying to say is, if I could have dated you…” Here it comes. “I would have.”
Dead silence. He sits, watching me. The urge to edge closer, to put a hand on his leg, is almost overpowering. I don’t dare, not until this is done.
“Then why didn’t you?” he says after a long moment. “Why make me wait? Were you worried about me… I dunno, revealing your secret or something? You could have gone out with me and not used your ability. Power. Whatever it is.”
“It’s more than that.”
For a few seconds the words fuzz in my brain, and I panic. I make them come back, force them to, like I’m using my PK to drag them into the world.
“Nic, when I have… when I have sex, I can’t control my PK. Things move. Like, really move. I’ve tried, and I can’t stop it happening.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Huh. Hadn’t thought of that.”
“Yeah. It gets a little… intense.”
Intense. Shit. It’s insanity. My PK leaps from my control like a wild animal, grabbing on to anything and everything. It actually starts way before I have an orgasm, slowly building up until objects start smashing against the walls. Believe me when I say that faking it just isn’t something I could do, and there is no way to control my ability when it happens.
“My mom and dad had a theory,” I tell him. “The endorphins boost my PK in… unexpected ways, they called them.”
He scratches his stubble. “OK, that’s… Wait, hold up. How did your parents know about this?”
“What did you do when you were sixteen years old, Nic?”
“I…” Understanding dawns. “Whoa. Wow.”
“Yeah. My room looked like an elephant had charged through it.”
It sounds like a joke. Like something you’d use as a punchline. But I’ve never felt less like laughing.
“Tanner didn’t want you revealing your powers to anybody.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So you couldn’t have a boyfriend. I get it. That would… Wait, does this mean you’ve never had sex?”
“It’s not…”
“Never?”
Here it comes. The memory pushing itself to the surface. I knew I’d have to tell him about this, but it doesn’t make it any easier.
“I’ve had sex.”
“With who? Someone on the team?”
“Not exactly. His name…” I have to stop. Take a deep breath. “His name was Travis.”
Nic waits for me to continue, but a few seconds go by where I don’t know how. I’ve lived this story in my head a thousand times, but I’ve never told anybody about it. Not a soul.
“Who was he?” Nic says.
“Wait. I have to say something first.” Another deep breath. “What I’m gonna tell you… doesn’t make me look good. I’m not proud of it, and I would give anything to take it back.”
He folds his arms, waiting for me to continue. The look on his face isn’t unkind.
“After I came to LA, I really wanted to… I wanted to try. Sex, I mean. And I knew I would have to be careful. I can’t remember if I told you or not, but my ability doesn’t affect organic matter. No carbon or hydrogen molecules. And there was a wilderness area near the hotel Tanner had me staying at, this park with a ton of trees and stuff…”
Nic tilts his head slightly, gesturing at me to go on. He’s turned ever-so-slightly towards me now, forearms resting on his knees.
“Travis was this bartender I got talking to. He wanted to be an actor, but he wasn’t an asshole about it, like everyone else in this town. I got to know him, a little, and I decided that I wanted to do it with him. I wanted him to be my first. I asked him if he wanted to try, and he said yes.”
I wanted it to be good. I wanted to be good. I’d read up online about what to expect the first time, but it’s never going to completely prepare you. And like most first times, it definitely wasn’t beautiful, or loving, or inspired. It was a crash to the ground, twigs in my back, my skirt rucked up, him barely able to find my bra strap, let alone undo it. Both of us fumbling with the condom. I remember how his body tasted—about the only pleasant thing I remember. Salty and very slightly sweet, like really good caramel. I had a brief moment—a very brief moment—where I thought it was going to be OK.
“What happened?” Nic says gently.
“Well… we had sex.”
“And?”
“You know how sometimes you’re lying in bed and you just can’t get comfortable? You toss and turn and you just can’t find a position
you like?”
“Yeah?”
“The more… aroused I got, the more my PK tried to find something to latch on to; and the more it found it couldn’t, the worse the feeling got. It made me wanna throw up.”
Somehow we finished. Travis had started noticing that something was wrong about halfway through. Mostly because I was making little retching noises as I tried to push back the wave of nausea. We rolled off each other and just lay there, panting, neither of us looking at the other. At that moment, if my PK had found something to grab, I would have smashed it into a million pieces.
I don’t remember how I got home. I do know that I didn’t go back to that bar for six months. He tried to call me a couple of times, but when I didn’t pick up, he stopped. Once again, not proud. But I wanted nothing more than to forget that night, which I did, at several other bars a long way from Travis’s.
“I don’t get it, Teags,” he says when I tell him this. “So you ghosted him? It happens. It’s happened to me a few times. It’s not an awesome thing to do, but it’s not the end of the world. Don’t worry about it.”
“That’s not—”
“And it’s not like you raped him. He consented, right? He might not have known about your ability, but you were both adults, and it’s not like you lied to him. You don’t have anything to be ashamed of.”
“But I didn’t wanna lie to you,” I say, voice thick. This is the hardest part. The part I practised saying over and over in the car. “Imagine being in a relationship, and the only place I can have sex is in the middle of the damn woods—” It sounds stupid, even as I say it. I push on: “—and it’s never good for me, and I can never tell you why. How long would you have stuck around? Not dating you… it meant I could still have you as a friend.”
“We could have made it work.”
“You think so?”
“Sure. Or you could have just told me. I would have… it wouldn’t have been…”
“Even if you knew, and you were cool with it, how long before one of us made a mistake? Or both of us? And then Tanner…”
“She wouldn’t have had to know!”
“And if she found out? Shit, even just being together, as a couple… it would have put you in danger. I put Travis in danger—I really liked him, he was a good guy, and I never gave him a single clue about what he was getting into. You know how many sleepless nights I had afterwards? Wondering if Tanner had found out somehow, and was about to… to do something to him?”
“But she didn’t find out. ”
“No. But in a longer relationship… I couldn’t do that to you, or lie about it. I wouldn’t let you get hurt because of me. And I’m not sorry for that.”
His hands are still, the ring forgotten.
“I didn’t know any other way,” I say. “If there’d been another option, I would have taken it in a second, but I am not sorry for keeping you safe. I would rather… I would rather have us never see each other again, and have you still be walking around and living your life, than risk you getting hurt. Even if I had to keep things from you. When we came to your apartment, back when the whole shit happened, I only did it because I felt like there was no other way.”
The patch of sunlight has crept up his body, moving across his neck. And after a few moments he reaches out and takes my hand. His skin is very slightly rough and dry despite the heat in the apartment.
I hold his gaze, suddenly aware of how close we are. His hand on mine, our knees just touching.
For a second that old fear is back. The fear I felt that first time with Travis. The fear that I’m going to get this wrong, somehow—that I’m going to put someone else in danger.
But what do I—what do we—have to be scared of? Tanner isn’t going to hurt us. We have no more secrets from each other. There’s just us, and the sunlight.
I lean forward, put a hand on the back of his head and kiss him.
There’s a second where I think he isn’t going to respond. Then, very slowly, his lips part, our tongues just touching. Hesitant at first, soft and slow, but then pushing harder, tasting each other.
He wraps an arm around me, pulling me close. Our kiss grows deeper, quicker. His hand rests on the back of my neck, caressing, stroking. I’m hot, sweating lightly under my clothes.
It’s happening. This is happening. Right now. His other hand is on my back, and I guide it under my shirt, relishing the touch of his skin on my side. We separate for a second, my breath coming in short, desperate gasps. His mouth moves to my neck, my ear. Under his jeans he is rock-hard. I fumble at his zipper, almost panting, his hand moving higher on my back…
He stops. Goes still.
“Nic?”
And just like that, he pulls away.
“Wha—” I’m still in the position I was, leaning in towards him, up on one knee.
He sits for a second, breathing hard, not looking at me. Then slowly he gets to his feet, the slash of sunlight arcing across his body. He glances back, and the look on his face… it’s like he’s made a terrible mistake, and he knows it, wishes he could take it back.
I scramble to my feet, reaching for him. “Hey. It’s OK. I’m here, just—”
But he turns away. Laces his hands on the back of his head. Leaves me standing, still reaching out for him.
No. Fuck you, no. You are not doing this.
I take a step towards him, and he shakes his head. He still won’t look at me. Under his shirt, his shoulders rise and fall.
Somehow my mouth forms words. “I don’t understand.”
He tilts his head back, hands still laced above his collar. The sound he makes—half groan, half angry snarl—is the worst thing I’ve ever heard.
I put a hand on his shoulder. “Please, Nic. Just… just talk to me, OK? We can work this out.”
Gently, so very gently, he lifts my hand away.
My mouth is as dry as a desert. This has got to be a mistake—he’s overthinking it, that’s all. I’ve just got to talk to him. “Nic, don’t you get it? We can be with each other. Tanner’s cool with it. Isn’t this what you wanted?” My eyes go wide. “If it’s the PK thing, where stuff moves when I—”
“It’s not that,” he says quietly.
“Then what?”
“I’m just… I’m not ready.”
“Why?”
“Because…”
“What are you not ready for?” I didn’t think I was angry. Turns out, it was right there all along. It’s starting to show itself, edging my voice. “I was… I was straight with you. I told you everything. There’s nothing you don’t know about me.”
“That’s not the problem.”
“What is the problem? Help me understand this.”
Another frustrated groan-growl, his shoulders slumping. “Why you gotta make this so hard?”
“I’m making it hard?” Tears prick the corners of my eyes. I tell them to stay the fuck away. I move towards Nic, put my hands on his waist. “Nic, please. Don’t do this. Let’s just sit down and…”
Once more he removes my hands. This time he holds them tight.
“Why?” Desperation edges my voice.
“Because of what you do. For a living.”
Behind us, the fridge compressor kicks on, a low buzz filling the room.
“Teagan, you work for the government. Your job is… insane. I’m not just talking about the moving-things-with-your-mind shit. I’m talking about… everything else. I don’t want to spend my time waiting for a call that says you’re in jail, or in hospital, or…”
“It’s not like that.”
“Isn’t it? Last I checked, you threw yourself off a skyscraper.”
“That wasn’t a normal job!”
“Doesn’t matter. Do you understand what it would be like to worry that way? Every unknown number, every text message, every time you go on a mission. It’d be like being with a cop, only a million times worse.”
I lower my head, trying to contain my frustration. “People date cops, don�
�t they?”
“Maybe. But I’m not sure I want to be one of those people.”
“Bullshit.” Now I really am angry. “You do dangerous shit all the time. You surf big waves, you rock-climb, you—”
“The only person I’m putting in danger is myself,” he says. “And I don’t just go out whenever. I check the weather reports, the swells, all of it. I make sure I have the right gear. I control as much as I can, because then I can enjoy the risk. With this, everything would be out of my control. I need you to understand what that would be like: spending all my time worrying. Never able to help. I do want to be with you… but it’s not a good idea.”
“But I love you.”
It slips out of me before I can stop it. Then again, why would I want to? I love Nic, I want him and I can’t believe he’s being so pigheaded as to—
“I don’t love you,” he says.
The silence that follows feels like the end of the world.
“But before,” I say. “When I came home late after the Edmonds job, you said…”
“I said I wanted to date you. I didn’t say I was in love with you.”
He’s still got hold of my hand, and he grips it tighter, making my eyes meet his. “I know what it sounds like,” he says. “And I swear to God, Teags, I’m not saying this to be cruel. I’d never do that to you.”
“Then why? What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to tell you the truth.” His voice is quiet. Firm. “Every bit of it. Love is… it’s not something that happens like that.” He snaps his fingers. “Or hardly ever. It takes time. And it has to override everything. If I really did love you, then it wouldn’t matter that you had these abilities or that you worked for Tanner or any of it. But even with Marissa it wasn’t like that. We dated for two years. I honestly thought I was in love with her. But it… When she wanted to move, I realised that wasn’t true. It wasn’t true for her, and it wasn’t true for me.”
“It could be true for us!”
“Maybe.” He looks away. “But it isn’t like that now. I don’t control what I feel, and I don’t want to lie to you about it.”