Valentine's Day Anthology: Hearts and Handcuffs

by Renee Grace Thompson

  No one has ever done this for me and I remain silent, blinking up at Jake.

  "I'm sorry you lost your scarf last night," he rasps. "I don't know what it was like, but I hope you don't hate this one?" His eyelashes sweep down as he takes my hands in his and starts pulling same-textured gloves over my fingers.

  I shake my head, a mess of thoughts rattling inside. My heart either beats too fast or is still, for I don't feel it. All I can do is study the hard plains of his face - every wrinkle around the corners of his mouth, a small dip at the center of his lower lip, a faint trace of a bruise on the bridge of his nose.

  "W-were you hurt?" I ask finally.

  Jake looks at me and rubs his nose rather sheepishly. "Rugby can be, eh, challenging."

  He takes my hand again and leads me farther down the alley, past food tents. The same crimson garlands, running from one tent's roof to another, swing in the gusts of wind.

  "You look nice," he says.

  "Yes." I search my mind for a decent human response. "Easier to travel in this."

  Jake nods slowly, his gaze a mixture of resignation and defiance. "What time do you have to leave?"

  "Gone by four," I whisper.

  "Are you taking the train? Flying?"

  This one is easy. "Flying."

  He squeezes my hand, but the question I expect doesn't come. I won't be back and he knows it.

  "Come on," he says. "Let's not waste time then. Want some coffee on the go?"

  "Where are we going exactly?"

  "It's a surprise."

  "Can you get me what I had last night? A latte?" The taste of it will always hold the memory of this mortal man.

  "Sure."

  He doesn't let go of me as we stop, and he buys us coffee.

  "Cheers," he says and bumps his carton cup against mine.

  I laugh. "My brother does this all the time."

  Since Dionysius is constantly wine-tasting, this is one of his favourite gestures. In fact, he might have invented it.

  "How many brothers do you have?"

  The market alley slowly turns into a much wider street. It's not so crowded here and I can breathe freely, chewing on my lip.

  Should I include my half-siblings, too? Probably not.

  "Six."

  "Wow. Any sisters?"

  "One." Athena will do.

  "That's some family. You know," he stops me and tightens my scarf, those bruised knuckles grazing my bare skin, "I almost told my sisters about you…"

  Something moves in the periphery of my vision. The branches of a tree behind Jake's back crunch under a small, fast shadow.

  A rapid flap of small wings.

  A bell-like trickle of laughter.

  A curly lock glinting gold even in gloomy, clouded weather.

  The Cupids.

  My fingers squeeze the cup until the liquid reaches the top. A thin streak of hot coffee escapes over the top and runs to my brand new glove.

  "Arya? What's the matter?" Jake takes the cup out of my hand and searches my eyes.

  "Nothing." My voice comes out a little unnatural. Too upbeat. "Show me your surprise?"

  If the Cupids are here, Hermes will know my location in no time. The little rascals will tell on me, and I'll either face Hermes's rage earlier than expected and will be taken off Jake's case right away, or they'll shoot Jake with love now.

  I don't know if they have my arrow yet, but if not, they'll find it anyway. Cute love hounds, the Cupids will inevitably sniff out its location.

  I grasp Jake's sleeve and pull him into motion, sneaking peeks at the trees and behind the benches lining the alley.

  He obeys, gradually overtaking my small strides with his gigantic ones. "Wanna tell what's going on?"

  "It's nothing. I just thought I saw someone...familiar."

  "Listen." He rolls ahead and blocks my path with his enormous body. His chest rises fast, his heart beating so hard I can hear it. "You seem jumpy. Does anyone bother you? Because I could--"

  I lay my hand on his chest and shake my head, sadness touching my smile.

  He will be so good for someone.

  Jake searches my face for a lie the way he must uncover faults in his work. "What's wrong then?"

  "I..." The truth is too tricky to voice. I glance at the sparrows chirping among the tree branches. "Birds make me nervous."

  "You mean, like, sparrows?"

  "Yes," I squeeze out.

  A corner of his mouth lifts. The shadow of his stubble is dark in the laugh lines. "I'm afraid of the reptiles if that's of any help."

  "You are?"

  Jake nods. "Everyone's afraid of something. Now, come on."

  He hands back my cup and pulls me towards an even greater noise. Small groups of people pass us, giggles and hollers of excitement trailing after them like Hera's gown.

  The heavy, snow-laden clouds hang low above the town. But instead of looking menacing, full of Zeus's winter wrath, their round bellies are coloured in purple. A cotton candy lounging in the sky.

  An enormous ice rink opens in front of us as we head down the street. Crowds of people trail towards it, drowning in the purple light that spills from projectors. Once the night settles in, it will probably turn neon purple, but for now, with what's left of the daylight, the colour is soft. Romantic. The expanse of ice is guarded by the trees. Gigantic branches sway in the wind, making the small golden light wrapped around them blink like hundreds of candles.

  “It's beautiful," I breathe.

  "Thought you'd like it." Jake looks down at me. "Do you skate?"

  I don't know. Do I?

  "It's been a while. I may have forgotten how to." A perfectly human response, right?

  "Nah. It's like riding a bike - once you know how you can't unlearn it."

  My foot slips on a patch of ice on the sidewalk, and his arm shoots out to support me by my waist.

  "You'll be fine," he whispers into my ear, his breath hot on my neck. "I'll take care of you."

  My heart yanks, the longing teased by his words again.

  I clear my throat. "I'd never think that you could skate. You're... You're so..."

  "Goddamn bear-like?" He laughs, his fingers twitching on my hip as if fighting to not squeeze it. "My father was the same."

  "Was?"

  "Yeah. Died a few years back."

  I try to remember what the Scroll said about Jake’s parents, but nothing comes to mind. He is too close, his hand burning. Guiding me closer to him.

  "Why did he die?"

  "Heart attack." Jake breathes in slowly as if trying to catch up again with the cheer booming around us. Fast music, so unlike Pan's flute, or Apollo's lyre, bangs against my eardrums.

  "But I'm a mean skater. I'll show you," he almost shouts over the noise, the smile back in place.

  He pulls me tighter to him, his thick arm circling my body. A perfect, warm buffer against the thickening crowd heading to the entrance flashing 'Welcome to Valentine Wonderland.'

  Fear and unease still attack my body, but their dark bubbles in my blood burst one by one as I realise that my body fits just right under Jake's arm. That each angle of this hard muscle is a perfect mould for me to curl into. That the warmth he exudes is my kind of summer.

  I press into his protective bulk.

  A short while later Jake sits me on the bench. "Give me your foot."

  "What for?" I ask.

  The wooden seat is sleek and cold, and I clasp its edge for support. Jake crouches in front of me, squinting up at me through his thick lashes. The green of his eyes is so bright; it defeats the purple light spilling over the large area where dozens of people trade their boots for the ice skates.

  "Just give it. Please." Jake grabs a white pair, then studies it and my feet again.

  Back at the reception, he had spent a considerable amount of time finding out my shoe size. I was of no help and couldn't explain why. Sure I know the numbers as I watched Hermes work out the Love Charts, but my shoe size? I just pull my
boots on and ta-da! They fit!

  Our eyes still connected, I lift my foot.

  Jake grins. "Let's get these babies on."

  With a sure hand, he pulls my silver booties off. His fingers are even hotter against thin socks. His nostrils flare as he clasps my ankle in one hand and guides my foot into an ice skating shoe with another.

  "I never met anyone who didn't know the size of their feet." Black eyebrows knit as he concentrates on dealing with the other boot.

  I chew on my lip. "Maybe I wanted you to guess?"

  A grin breaks across his face. "And make all those people wait until I make the right choice? You didn’t look comfortable with that."

  His words slap a blush so deep on my cheeks, even the purple haze is powerless to conceal it.

  "You're a terrible liar, Arya. Anyway, here you go."

  In my embarrassment, I missed his lacing up of my footwear. His rugby player’s fingers are extremely nimble for the task.

  Jake holds out his hand and helps me up. The blades make me unsteady and I wobble, trying to gain balance. I've never done this before, but the hardest thing is not to learn ice skating. It's to let myself fall if it comes to it.

  I breathe in slowly and place my feet wider, bracing myself for a bit of pain. Countless groups of people skate behind the thick glass, many of them falling on their arses.

  I can fall, too.

  No flying dust to hold me up.

  "How about you?" I jerk my chin towards his brown skates.

  "Will be ready in a sec."

  Expertly, he puts them on and takes my hand. "Ready?"

  I nod.

  "Don't worry. I won't let you fall."

  My answering smile is an awkwardness itself and he chuckles.

  He pulls me to the entrance of the ice rink and I follow on my toes, just like he told me to. The tips' jagged edge grips the carpet and I grasp his hand harder as he walks backwards, on his toes, too.

  "Let me lead you."

  Chapter Three

  The tip of his blade touches the ice with a muffled clunk, and Jake guides me into the sea of moving bodies.

  Black outlines of small angelic wings flutter and disappear in the purple haze.

  I clench my teeth. The little rascals are here to shoot Jake with love. I’m sure of it now.

  As if released from invisible constraints, my feet spur into a free glide, my other hand grabbing Jake's wrist. He grins again, relaxed and unfazed. His massive body seems to have lost half of its weight and the bulk of his muscle slipped into a sleeker, leaner form.

  The heavy jacket slides off his shoulder as he leads us on, weaving seamlessly between the couples. Even though he glides backwards, he doesn’t collide with anyone. His body cranes side to side, in unison with his feet's slow, measured strides. I mimic his motions.

  Side to side.

  My feet making the same measured sweeps forward.

  I still rely on his hand though, concentrating all my attention on his warmth and blocking the instinct to fly upward and shoo away the giggling Cupids. Their laughter grows in volume until it equals human chatter around us.

  Jake glides a little bit faster and I close my eyes. Fighting an urge to shout and scream for the Olympians to leave us alone is a challenge.

  "Arya."

  Jake's voice booms above me. His body connects with mine as he spins me around and presses my back to his chest. His arms encircle my torso, his breath hot on my ear.

  "I'm not letting go, yeah? You won't fall."

  My breath is still stuck in my throat. "I know."

  And again, wordlessly, we fall into the same routine of dodging people.

  Jake’s arms are no longer hesitant. They hold me tight, and my body relaxes, encircled by his. My glide becomes smoother. Surer.Faster. I keep up with his rhythm and he speeds up, making us almost fly alongside the edge of the rink. With the initial wariness gone and my balance restored, I sneak careful peeks around.

  "You're a fast learner." Jake's lips tickle my temple. "Wanna try it on your own?"

  I shake my head vigorously.

  The trickle of baby laughter drowns human voices. My gaze darting around. "Only if you hold me."

  Jake grips my hand then and disjoins us, setting us to skate side by side. The music is so loud and fast, my heart pounds with it and my legs join with the rhythm. If the Cupids are set to aim, then I will make their game harder to play.

  Our time is not up yet.

  "Faster," I shout to Jake.

  He grins and complies.

  We weave between the kissing couples and the awkward teenagers in a serpentine fashion, faster and faster. Until we're out of breath. Until I take the lead to guide him through the most crowded of stretches to avoid the Cupid’s aim. It will stall them for a short while.

  The Cupid's eyes follow us, though. I can feel them. By now the angelic teasing drowns the beat of music, too. I can't see them, but their presence is like a stadium full of innocent giggles and the feathery flapping of little wings.

  Shoving a strand of hair off my face, I glance at Jake.

  Jake's jaw drops as he follows my lead. His eyes, still amused, fill with awe and the heat I detected before. His hungry gaze sweeps over my face, my body, our joined hands.

  He yanks me to him and stalls us in our tracks. Our chests slam against one another. He gathers both of my hands in his and I have no choice but to drown in the green of his eyes.

  "You're an enigma." The short and fast puffs of air leave him in tiny clouds. His close proximity renders me speechless and so out of my depth.

  So out of my league, too. He is promised for somebody else.

  "W-why?"

  Jake's eyes glow brighter as he studies my lips. His hand, fingers trembling, comes up to cup my cheek.

  "You appear out of nowhere, dressed for the carnival," he says. "You're wary of tiny birds. Your learning pace is much faster than normal. And your skin…" His thumb hovers over the corner of my mouth, exuding the warmth I feel even without his touch. "It’s too perfect. You glow with beauty. You're..."

  His thumb lands on my lower lip and traces its outer curve, and I forget the hustle and bustle around us.

  "I'm not what you need."

  "That's for me to decide," he rasps.

  I want to disagree. To tell him that his fate has been decided before he was born. That he has no say even though he thinks he does. That sometimes even gods have no choice...

  But his lips connect with mine and I let go of the truth hanging on the precipice of my tongue. Even the Cupids' snooping around becomes hazy and somehow of no consequence.

  The heat of his lips, the sweet taste of his need and hesitation send my heart flying and scheming to beg Zeus to grant me this one favour. Just one dream that I can't bring myself to shake off.

  I should ask my father to keep this human.

  My hands snake up his chest and around his neck. My fingers sink into the black waves of his hair.

  Jake produces an unintelligible sound of appreciation as his tongue sweeps over my lips, nudging them to open. Someone bumps against us, but we don't care. Jake's hands already encircle me, pulling me to him under the protective covers of his jacket. And his tongue... It presses against mine, licking, and rubbing, and creating havoc in my body.

  The unfamiliar sensations attack my body. The heat rises from the depths of my belly like lava demanding to see the light of day, bursting through the mountain's insides. There is a Vesuvius inside of me.

  Jake holds me tight but disconnects our mouths. His breath is heavy, flaring his nostrils. His eyes squeeze shut as he lowers his forehead to mine.

  "Can you stay? Just for tonight? Or... longer?"

  Reason enters my head with the next gust of wind. The snowflakes begin a steady descent on my volcano.

  He is not yours. You mess with his head and your own. You are supposed to guard the order, not defy it.

  Shame and hurt are salt and pepper, rubbing into the scabs of my heart.


  "I can't."

  "Why?"

  I have to do what I am entrusted with.

  "There is something about you. Familiar. And serious. And troublesome." Jake laughs but sobers up in seconds, his gaze acquiring a possessive glow. "And very, very...mine."

  My eyes fly open.

  I can’t allow this go any further.

  I push away from him and skate to the exit, ignoring people's yelps of protest as I rush past them.

  For an instant, he remains still, dumbfounded by my unreasonable response, but springs into action when he realises that I’m not messing with him. His legs, powerful and accustomed to the ice skating, push off the ice. His fingers clench into fists as his arms work to help his body's advance.

  I can’t afford to watch his progression.

  As soon as I reach the threshold, I claw at the laces, pulling the skates off. My silver booties are there, placed by Jake's careful hand under the bench, and I hurl myself to them.

  "Arya, wait!" Jake roars behind me, but I don't listen or turn round.

  I run out of the lobby and head back, in the same direction we came from. Back up the street, against the steady flow of people where I get pushed and shoved and called names because of my daredevil speed.

  I am proud of the control I have over my actions. The need to fly skyward, or to the caves in Greece, where I could hide for the next millennia, is too seductive.

  But my duty comes first.

  In the distance, I hear Jake's calls as I beeline around the little market where he bought my scarf and gloves. His gifts, I will keep. I’ll hide them in a cave in Crete and pull them out sometimes to remember what it was like to almost fall in love.

  Twilight-lit, the tents are folded. The sellers are putting their goods away into their storage baskets.

  I speed past them.

  Back to the street where I first met Jake and behind the cafeteria where I had my first ever latte.

  Not as fast as me, but he'll come. Jake will follow and I will do the deed expected of me.

  I skid on an icy patch and wheel around the corner of the cafeteria. The narrow backstreet is empty and dark with the early evening falling upon us, and I allow myself to ignore the rule of no exposure. I fly up to the farthest dumpster, stick my hand behind it. My fingers grab the familiar coarseness of my rucksack and I pull it out.