The wind finally succeeds, ripping my jacket off my shoulder. Freezing wintry claws pierce my naked shoulder where my catsuit is torn.
"Shit, you're in pieces. Come on. A warm drink first and then I'll find you a taxi."
Jake's hand, huge and oh so warm, clasps mine in a sure grip, and he tugs me after him through the snowdrifts and across the street.
No one has ever talked to me like this, let alone acted this way, and so I follow, stunned to my core. And maybe a bit enchanted. Apparently, the mortals can have that power over the gods.
The old-fashioned clock on the wall chimes ten thirty when we settle in a red booth of the coffee shop. The lazy hissing of the coffee machine, the mouth-watering smell of freshly ground coffee beans, the dimmed lights, the window curtains half-drawn in preparation for closure...
The windows sport so many hearts that it's almost impossible to see outside anyway, and I look around, trying to process this unexpected turn of events. Despite my father’s warnings, it's scary and exhilarating, this novelty of interacting with the mortals. Having made too many mistakes in the past, Zeus doesn't like us puttering here on earth. But I love this... A little indulgence never hurt anyone, so why can't I enjoy my coffee and stare at Jake for a bit longer?
Jake sits across from me, huge forearms on the table. Watching me. His espresso and my latte are about to arrive, along with two slices of chocolate cake. He wouldn't take no for an answer.
Do I even have a sweet tooth?
"Are you warmer now?" He pulls his beanie off, unleashing a mop of dark, wavy hair. He ruffles it, making it stand on end.
Making me melt a little more.
I nod and take a piece of cake. "Weren't you cold yourself?"
He looks at his sports attire and chuckles. "When we play, we run like mad. It's not cold."
"You play rugby in this weather? At this hour?"
"Sure. No one will disturb us - we can have a field practically to ourselves. Plus, the snow cools you as you run around sweating like a pig." He sighs, his thick fingers fumbling with the napkin. "Sorry about the ball. The street was deserted, and we didn't think we'd get anyone... caught like that. Kicking a ball on the street was the dumbest idea I've ever come up with." He chuckles and adds, "And I've had many."
I tug my jacket tighter around me, too aware of his searching green gaze. "You're not that old to make too many mistakes."
"Thirty qualifies as old enough, don't you think?"
I incline my head, palming my rucksack under the table. "I guess so."
"What were you doing in those bushes anyway?"
"I... The wind blew my scarf away and..."
"Want me to go find it?"
Jake makes a move to get up, the table shaking as he tries to manoeuvre his body from the space too narrow for his bulk. My mind fires off, thinking of a perfect way to escape while he is gone, but my traitorous hand is already gripping his forearm.
"No, please. It doesn't matter," my stupid mouth speaks.
He sits back down and stares at me. "You still haven't told me your name, you know."
"Ar--" You're not telling him your real name, Artemis, are you? "Arya."
"That's different. Rare. Just like your eyes. Never seen eyes so icy blue."
His voice rumbles, compelling me into the truth I'd rather avoid.
"Your eyes are quite unusual, too, Jake."
"Caught my name, huh?"
I nod. "It's simple. Catchy."
Only the man wearing such a simple name is not that simple. With a face and body like his, he could belong on Olympus.
Jake smiles and rubs his fingers across his clean-shaven jaw. Perfect angles.
A waitress strolls over to us with our drinks and cake. The cups clink. The steam rises and I inhale the warmth greedily, wrapping my fingers around the glass.
Jake, however, busies himself with adding sugar in my coffee and pushing the cake towards me. Expertly, completely in charge, he stirs the sugar in my cup and only then gets on with his espresso.
"I live nearby, only one street over... But inviting you to dry your clothes at mine would be weird, right?" He clears his throat.
I nod, still stunned by his taking care of me.
"Thought so. Well, let's get you warm first and I'll find you a taxi." He pulls his smartphone out of his pocket, his fingers lightning-fast, clicking the keys. Various software blinks to life, stirring my memories.
The Scroll. The details about his job flash at the back of my mind.
A slice of cake sticks in my throat, moments ago delicious pastry now choking me.
"What do you do?" I ask, fighting to swallow the cake that refuses to budge.
"Software programmer." He puts his phone down and shoves a massive chunk of cake in his mouth. "Got you a taxi in half an hour. It belongs to my mate, so he’ll take you anywhere you like."
I don't quite hear his words. Blood whooshes in my ears and cold sweat marks my palms.
He is meant for someone else. Tomorrow. Outside of this very cafeteria.
And I’m the one to carry out an order that, in my eyes, is nothing but condemnation.
This human perfection is already taken.
All I can do is stare. I have to go, yet I can't move. My heart beats slow, a dying planet in the wake of its recent explosion.
Jake chuckles. "You know, my profession has never made such a profound impression on anyone before."
He reaches out over the table, his thumb wiping something off my upper lip. The warmth of his skin is an electric shock, jolting my body to life and my heart to a painful shudder.
"And what do you do?" he asks, this time cutting my cake into thin slices.
His hand is tan, knuckles scratched. A network of bluish veins under his skin reminds me of earthly hills and rivers I sometimes observe in my binoculars from my safe place on the clouds.
"I'm a...messenger."
"Is your news always good?"
"Not always." Love is like that. It comes and goes. And I have no way of knowing the sell-by date of Hermes's arrows. The Fates know, though, but even my father is not allowed to stick his nose in their caves. We all are at their mercy.
Jake looks at me, the green of his gaze turning to darker emerald. He forks a piece of my cake and brings it to my mouth.
My eyes widen at his liberty, but I open my mouth anyway and chew slowly, taking in his rumpled gorgeousness. I want to know everything about him yet I mustn't obey the pull. What's the point when I only have until tomorrow?
Jake studies me, his gaze gliding over my clothes. "You're not from around here, are you?"
I shake my head. "I'm just visiting."
"For how long?" His gaze hardens, a shadow of urgency and determination fleeting in its depth.
"Until tomorrow afternoon."
"Can we meet again before you leave? I swear I'll be a perfect gentleman and won't throw anything at you."
The arrow buzzes in the rucksack at my feet, hissing and quivering lightly. Plotting something. Spurring me to disobey my father’s rules and Hermes’s orders.
I pick up my own fork and feed the rest of my cake to Jake. He opens his mouth obediently, his eyes more heated by the minute. His Adam's apple, covered by the turtleneck, bobs as he swallows.
"Is that a yes?"
"Why would you want to do it?"
"Because half an hour is not enough." He studies my mouth. "Because I've never met anyone like you - small yet majestic. Like a Snow Queen."
My eyes fly open to stare at him. "I'm not--"
"No-no, I mean it as a compliment. Your sparkly outfit. Your eyes. Your hair." He reaches out and takes a thick strand of my hair to rub it between his fingers. "You are absolutely stunning." He clamps his mouth shut and looks into his cup. "Did you notice anyone putting alcohol in here?"
I shake my head, failing to subdue a chuckle.
His eyes light up with mirth, too. "I'm an idiot. Sorry. I shouldn't be saying this, but I can't help it. You practic
ally fell out of the sky into my path and I'll be damned if I don’t tell you how beautiful you are."
My shoulders shake with laughter and the lightness, albeit temporary, seizes my chest. I could look at him for a few short hours, couldn’t I?
His smile turns into a hearty laugh. Two remaining waitresses look at him, mesmerised, whispering something to one another. No doubt, their eyes roam over his thick, rugby-primed thigh peeking from under the table.
A slash of jealousy hits me. The dose of angry heat is so strong, it takes my breath away. Thank goodness that the desire to grab this man and whisk him to the ends of the earth is stronger than an almost unbearable urge to turn these gawking women to stone.
Jake pulls at the strand of my hair again. "Say yes."
"Okay."
"I'll pick you up at about one in the afternoon?"
Reason seeps into me. "From where?"
"Wherever you tell me. Even a cloud."
My jaw almost hits the table. He is...something. But definitely not god. Not even demi-god. Hermes wouldn't play this kind of silly trick on me. He never played me, not even drunk out of his mind on Dionysius's wine.
"We can meet outside this place?" I whisper. By then, I will find the Scroll.
"Done. You know, if my sisters knew about this, I would never live this down. I hurt the girl and, by some miracle, she agrees to go out with me."
"How many sisters?" I lean forward, clasping my hands on the table. Maybe he is not my target?
The Scroll said two.
Hope flares inside me--
"Two. Both like the Furies, clawing at the rawest. You know Medusa's sisters, right?"
--and hope dies. Nothing but the grey ash of Vesuvius.
Jake is my last assignment.
I lay my hair over my shoulder, straight white strands dry and silky again.
"You're into Greek Mythology?" I ask, unable to meet his gaze.
"Love it. My mum used to read it to me when I was a kid. I don't think I ever recovered from the horror."
He chuckles and runs his fingers through his hair, the dark waves of Styx. The sides are neatly trimmed, though, accentuating his cheekbones.
How ironic is that? If he were mine, I wouldn't even have to explain to him all the weird ties in my family.
A short while later, I stand at the taxi's open door, watch Jale pay for my ride and wonder where I should ask the driver to take me. To the closest train station, maybe? That way I won't need to guess street names and can disappear easily, without drawing much attention.
I tuck a strand of my snow-peppered hair behind my ear. “Thank you for the coffee—“
Jake's hands encompass my forearms and run upwards, to my shoulders, to clasp the top button on my jacket closed.
He looks at me, a serious glint in his eyes. "I should have found your scarf."
And I can only manage, “Why--"
His lips touch mine, and the rest of my words evaporate into the freezing air.
A slight brush of skin against skin. The heat it emanates. A ghost of chocolate, shared.
Jake's fingers crawl to my nape, and I fight the desire to roll my eyes in pleasure. After this, no kiss of a god will satisfy me - the mortals kiss better. Taste better. Or maybe it's just this mortal? Jake's smell, all woodsy and sweaty, attracts me more than a sacred anointment.
A light flush plays on his cheeks when he pulls us apart. His chuckle is awkward as he steps away and ruffles his hair with trembling fingers.
"Shit, I'm sorry." He looks me up and down. "I don't normally do this. This is not..." He clears his throat and knits his eyebrows. "What were you asking me?"
I moisten my lips, swiping away the last of his taste. "Why did you help me? Why do you do... this?" I wave my hand between us.
Jake's eyes ignite with sureness even a god could envy. "I like you."
Chapter Two
It's been a long night. Exhaustion creeps on me. Countless hours of searching for Hermes's lost Scroll while trying not to attract my family's attention. Numberless places in this world, visited at the speed of the shooting star that stole it.
Nothing.
I can’t even feel it vibrate the way I usually do. As if swept away into dimensions only Zeus knows of, it disappeared into thin air, leaving me with a Herculean task of telling Hermes the truth. The only saving grace is that I know my last target.
Jake.
Sadness, salty and murky-grey, fills my chest.
I swallow a lump in my throat as I land on the backstreet, behind the coffee shop where we're meant to meet. The last of flying dust disappears into the sky, mingling with the drifting snowflakes, and I shake my head to disperse the sparkly leftovers. My palms glide over my hair, smoothing it. I look myself over, twisting around. Pull my new skinny jeans up. Adjust the white fluffy jacket and the light blue top underneath.
Last night, by the train station, a lovely clothing shop caught my eye. I hope they won’t notice their goods missing before I return them this evening.
The fact that I fuss over myself like a mortal girl before a date doesn't elude me. But I can't help it.
I should have said no to Jake. Should have disappeared. Should have...
But my heart is too fast. My blood roars in my ears at the thought of Jake's lips. I can't hear anything other than his words of caring for me.
Just once. I want what the mortals are granted so easily. Just for a few short hours.
I breathe in and out. Slowly.
Enjoying Jake's company would help me to endure Hermes's wrath later. It's a way to relax before facing the storm, right?
Right?
I roll my eyes and shake my head. Apparently, lousy excuses are my specialty, too.
The alley is empty save for a few sparrows, busy with bread crumbs by the trash bins. I head towards them, pulling my rucksack off my shoulders.
The neat line of rubbish containers is a perfect hiding place for my arrow. I check the zip and tuck the unassuming-looking bag behind the farthest bin, into the tightest spot between it and the wall.
Assaulted by all stages of rotten, I scrunch up my face in disgust and look around. No one's here.
Only the sparrows hop up to me and make tiny jump-flights to land on my head and shoulders.
"Aw, you poor things... It's cold, isn't it?" I whisper and stroke the one on my shoulder with the pad of my index finger. "Hang on. Let me help you."
Gently, I blow hot breath into the air. A bubble of warmth materialises in front of me and the little group of birds fly into it, drawn by the summer heat it exudes. Sunny-yellow and jagged-edged, the bubble expands until it resembles a small cloud and the birds fly, dragging it to a nearby tree. They settle next to one another on a branch and tweet merrily, perked up by the temporary warmth.
I smile.
A bit of pleasure, for now, will do them a world of good.
As it would for me.
I square my shoulders and walk onto the street.
Early afternoon is not as quiet as last night. I stall, my breath taken by the crowds of people filling the street. The red heart garlands are even brighter against the snowy landscape, the billboards appear larger, and the noise is so boisterous, I stagger back. People walk purposefully, like the ocean waves roll, their eyes set on real or intangible targets ahead of them. I jump out of the way yet still get bumped in the shoulder.
A faint apology falls from my lips, unheard and unwanted.
It's best that I go back to what I know--
"Hey, you look lost."
A familiar voice rumbles behind me. A large hand touches my shoulder and I turn around, fighting yet failing to hide a smile of relief, of joy, of hope, even though there isn't hope for us.
Jake's eyes are even greener in the daylight, like the summer woods with sunny spells sneaking through the dense leafage. He cranes and kisses my cheek, granting me the heat that reaches all the way down to my toes.
"Thanks for coming," he speaks against my skin, his
nose against my cheekbone.
Human chatter disappears. No one bumps into me anymore. The cold dissipates. Jake is like the warm cloud I made for the sparrows. My private, undiscovered Mediterranean island.
"Same for you," I squeeze out. "But what are we going to do?"
He straightens and looks down at me. "I'll show you. Care to go for a walk with me?"
Beanie-free, his black hair is mussed by the wind and snow. The rugby gear is gone as well, replaced by a simple woolly jumper, jeans and sheepskin jacket.
A boy next door, as the mortals call it.
So attractive, it hurts.
I nod and he takes my hand expertly. As if he always held it.
"Your fingers are so cold," he says. "You'll need gloves for where we're going."
"Oh." We walk side by side, his sure stride twice as long as mine. "I don't get cold...that easily."
I do, but it's not like I can catch one of those illnesses the mortals call flu.
"Not to worry," Jake says and pulls me in the direction of an even louder commotion.
It's a small Valentine Day’s market, I realise.
Some items are a mystery, but some are vaguely familiar. Like those red and pink sticks that colour your lips. Or the footwear with the spikes attached to their heels... Secretly, I glance at my own flat-heeled silver boots and snort. I would never be able to prance in those weird shoes mortal women buy.
Bangles, bracelets, necklaces fly by as we pass.
My home is the woods, not Olympus, and so I don't get to wear jewellery. It gets in the way when I hunt, either producing an unwanted noise, or catching on random branches, but Olympus - hosted parties demand opulence. I don't mind, but I'd rather the wooden bangles that Pan makes for me.
We stop at the small tent where a lady, too blonde and too tanned for it to look natural, smiles at us. "Your girl is like a little Snow Queen," she says to Jake. "But you need to look after her better, boy. She is freezing."
"I fully intend to look after her," Jake says and I look at them, stunned by their easy banter.
"Can I have that one?" I hear him ask. "And the gloves."
A moment later something white lands on my shoulders and wraps around my neck. Wool as light as a cloud caresses the skin of my neck.
Valentine's Day Anthology: Hearts and Handcuffs Page 13