“Why wouldn’t I have come?” I asked curiously, opting for talking.
“Well, you’ve only come to see me when I’m at the dance hall,” she explained, stepping away. “I didn’t know if you’d be here on the beach tonight.” I smiled softly at her, twisted my fingers into her hair, and leaned in closer.
“I promise I will always come to see you, no matter where you are,” I whispered. She smiled and leaned in to meet my kiss.
It was better than I remembered—if that was even possible—her lips cool from being out in the night air. I gently tightened my fingers around her hair, pulled her closer, and deepened the kiss as she wrapped her arms tighter around my waist. The waves lapped our feet softly, making the moment more serene. I couldn’t remember a time when I had been happier.
My hands released her hair as I eagerly stepped closer for more. I slid my left hand slowly onto her shoulder and then down to the small of her back. I brought her up against me, stopping the kiss only for a second to look into her wonderful eyes. An overpowering rush of love overcame me. As we stared at each other, I knew right then I wanted to tell her the truth—I never wanted to be without her, that I loved her more than I’d ever thought possible. I wanted to ask her if she’d be mine forever—to never leave me again—and hear her say she felt the same way about me.
I attacked her lips once again as we held each other tightly, our hot breath mingling together. Before I knew what was happening our tongues were wrapped around each other, adding a whole new level to the fire that raced through my veins.
I didn’t want to stop. In desperation, I grabbed her by the waist and picked her up, guiding her legs around my waist. Somewhere in my mind there was a warning light going off, but I didn’t care. All I could focus on was the need I felt. I clutched her to me like she would disappear at any moment—since that was an actual possibility. The anxiety was almost as strong as the fire.
I hadn’t noticed the water rising when I arrived, or the waves becoming stronger around us. As I tenderly carried her out of the water, kissing her all the while, the sea suddenly plowed into us, knocking us over into the wet sand.
Emilee rolled out of my arms, simultaneously laughing and spitting sand out of her mouth. Her wet curls stuck to her face and her dress clung against her tightly. I lay in the surf for just a moment longer, catching my breath as I found my bearings. A disappointed twinge flip flopped uncomfortably in my stomach, but my brain was calm—the warning light finally switched off. The next wave started rolling in and we both scrambled up the beach to safety.
As usual, Emilee’s laughter was contagious and soon we were both on the dry sand, cuddled in each other’s arms, giggling and staring up into the night sky, which unfolded above us. I felt like a silly little boy.
A boy in love, I thought and smiled to myself.
“This place is beautiful,” I said, talking more about her than I was willing to admit out loud. My eyes drank her in as I spoke. “Where are we exactly?”
“Just somewhere I saw in a picture once,” she explained. “I haven’t been many places. I’ve always wanted to see the world, but I don’t know if it will ever happen.” She frowned and looked away down the length of the beach. I didn’t know exactly what to say so we stayed in an awkward silence for a while. I wanted to get down on one knee and swear I would take her to see anything and everything she wanted, but I knew that would seem odd. Instead, I chose to say nothing. All I could think of was to keep cuddling.
“Raith,” she suddenly started, and turned to look at me. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course,” I replied immediately. “You can always ask me anything.” I smiled down at her, and raised my free hand to play with the damp hair around her face. I would have bought the moon for her, if she’d asked me to. Maybe if she hadn’t, as well.
“What are you?” she whispered, looking straight into my eyes. My throat tightened and it felt like I had a mouth full of cotton. Crap, crap, crap . . .
“What do you mean?” I stammered. My heart started racing. What do I tell her? Do I lie? I didn’t want to be dishonest with her. In my mind I felt like we were in an exclusive relationship. I winced a little bit as I thought of how that might not be true, but I pushed that away as she spoke again.
“Raith, I know when I’m dreaming. I always have,” she said. “I’ve always been able to do whatever I wanted in my dreams, but not with you.” Her expression remained the same while she spoke, calmly and curiously. Her eyes penetrated mine with a burning focus. All I could do was look at her; I didn’t know what to say. The stupid alarm light was going off again. When she didn’t get an answer, she continued.
“I didn’t bring you into my dreams, Raith. I’m sure of it. The only thing I can think of is that you’re something—maybe something not human—that keeps coming to see me. Why is that? And what are you?” I closed my eyes to escape her gaze and focused on breathing. This is why my powers don’t work on her. She knows how to control her dreams . . . very well apparently.
“I am . . . ,” I began shakily. It felt like the rest of my life would be determined by the answer she sought. I was panicking—I knew she could tell I was—and I imagined she wasn’t too impressed with me at that moment. I didn’t know what to do, and then a miracle happened. I could feel her consciousness begin to fade away. Has it really been a whole night? Thank the gods! I smiled at her, and opened my eyes. I kissed her quickly, sweetly. Knowing I didn’t have much time and feeling courageous, I began my answer again.
“I am your friend,” I said truthfully. I softened my gaze and ran my hands into her hair. Be brave. You love her. Just tell her the truth!
“And I think I’m very much in love with you already.” Emilee’s eyes widened some and she smiled shyly. My heart was racing a million miles an hour as I waited for her reply, but then my miracle ended. She was gone before she had the chance to say anything in return.
Chapter Four
I didn’t return to The Glen for the day like usual. I stayed in the woods, as close to my Emilee as I could, agonizing over what I had said. I felt incredibly stupid.
I’m your friend?! Why did I say that? If I’d been able to beat myself up I probably would have done it. I couldn’t believe I’d told her I loved her either. What if she doesn’t feel the same and now she’ll want me to leave her alone? More than my physical desires were invested now. My heart wouldn’t be able to take it if she asked me not to return. It was like she had enchanted me instead of the other way around, like every other time I’d entered someone’s mind.
Should I not go back at all and save myself the heartache? I knew I would, though. There were a million questions and doubts running through my mind. I also knew that if she asked me to leave I would probably sit on the edge of the forest for the rest of forever and just wish to be with her.
Love was agonizingly and stupidly complicated.
It seemed like night would never come. When it finally did I refused to admit to myself how scared I was to return to Emilee. I felt like my world could fall apart at any moment. Her mind finally brushed lightly against my own and I took a deep breath—it was time to meet my fate.
We were in the dance hall once more. She was facing away from me, stretching in front of the mirrors, wearing a simple black dress. Her feet were bare, her hair in a ballerina bun. As usual, I changed my attire to match—black slacks, button up shirt, and bare feet.
She watched my reflection in the mirror as I walked in slowly and I held my breath. This is it! The rhythm of my heart pounded the words into my soul. She slowly stood and turned to face me, expressionless, her hand held out like the first night we met. I was confused; my heart didn’t know whether to pound or stop dead in its tracks.
Somewhat deflated, I walked over and assumed a dancing form with her. Soft piano music began to play and our dance took motion. She didn’t speak and I was too scared to even open my mouth and ask her anything.
“I had a bad day,” she said softly
after a few movements. I was caught off guard and remained silent—she wasn’t starting with my confession from the night before. My heart tightened a little bit, as I wondered if it was my fault she was unhappy. After a few more moments of silence, she started again.
“I always like to come here and dance when I’ve had a bad day. I like coming when I haven’t had bad days, but that’s beside the point. Today was just a bad day. You know what I mean?” I managed to nod my head to avoid interrupting her—I felt she needed to say what was on her mind. It felt like something was crushing my chest as I listened to what she said next.
“My mother wanted me to take dance lessons,” she started again, leaving me completely clueless as to where the conversation was going. I wondered if I was about to get told off or something. “She drove me to class every day, came to every recital, videotaped every little performance . . . She always told me I was the prettiest little dancer she’d ever seen,” she laughed. Suddenly her eyes filled with tears and she stopped dancing all together and looked up into my eyes. “She got very sick,” she whispered. “I was out of high school by then and there was no one but me to take care of her, so I stopped going to classes. She always said how much she wanted to see me dance again, that it made her so happy, but I never did. I was too worried about her.” She swallowed hard, and looked down at the floor, her body beginning to tremble. A new type of dread filled me as I realized this conversation had absolutely nothing to do with me. I could barely hear her when she spoke again, her voice thick with emotion. “She died today.”
My heart broke for her, and I shared in the agony, which was displayed plainly before me. “Oh Emilee,” I said sorrowfully. I drew her into my embrace as she began to sob. She held on to me like I was the only thing she had left, crying into my chest. It occurred to me I might actually be the last thing she had left. Eventually, we moved to the edge of the room where we sat up against the wall. The rest of the night was spent in silence as we held each other and Emilee cried. I wanted to say something, anything, that would help her, but I didn’t know what words to use. I felt helpless as I cradled her against me, her tears soaking my shirt. When her mind began to pull away from mine I knew she was no more rested than when she went to sleep.
Emilee looked worn out the next night—in the same outfit with dark circles under her eyes. She sat next to the same wall with her eyes closed. I felt the shattering in my chest again.
I came prepared though. It occurred to me the night before that I knew next to nothing about her other than she loved dancing, wanted to see the world, her father was gone, and her mother had died the day before. Tonight I would try and help her forget the latter, if only for a little while.
I walked to her and sat down, wrapping my arms around her as she cuddled up against me. As soon as we were comfortable I launched right into my plan.
“Emilee,” I began, “What was your favorite thing to do as a child? . . . other than dance that is.” I waited patiently for her reply, knowing I’d caught her off guard. I desperately wanted my plan to work. After a few moments she finally responded.
“I liked to play on the swing set in our back yard. I would imagine I could fly.” She looked up and smiled at me weakly while she answered. I smiled as well, knowing that distracting her was a good idea.
“And why would you imagine flying?” I asked curiously.
“Every kid imagines they can fly, Raith. I preferred a swing over jumping off the roof like other kids.” I laughed at her comment and she giggled a little in reply, giving me confidence to continue.
“What else did you like to do?” All night I question her about everything I could think of, helping her to think of anything but her reality of sorrow. I learned that she had been an honors student all through school, loved the color blue, and liked to spend her afternoons reading. Her favorite thing to eat was a good cheeseburger and fries, and she worked at the library but she really wanted to teach dance for a living.
We laughed over her memory of being so excited to go to her first midnight movie with her friends when she was in high school. She spent the whole time running around and acting crazy. When the movie finally started, she was so tired from all of her excitement that she fell asleep five minutes after it started.
Each new thing I learned made me love her more. I wished I could spend every moment with her and see the things from her waking world. I wanted her forever, no matter what happened. I felt sick as cold reality slapped me in the face again; this was not real. It was a dream. I would not be able to keep her forever. Someday she would die, and I would still be stuck here . . . without her. All I would have left were my memories of us—memories that happened in a world that didn’t really exist.
I pushed my own fears and doubts away. Tonight is for Emilee, not for me.
I could tell she felt better by the time she began to wake up. It lifted a weight off of me, and I hoped her good feelings would last throughout the day. “Thank you, Raith,” she said seriously as our minds began to untangle themselves. “Thank you very, very much.” She kissed me on the cheek as she faded the rest of the way out.
A feeling of accomplishment surrounded me, and I felt good about ending the night right there. I had never been so happy to help someone in my life.
The next night followed the same basic pattern. We sat on the floor and I picked through Emilee’s brain, but I was running out of things to ask her and I could sense she still needed more of a distraction than just dancing would bring.
“Raith,” she said after a lull in our conversation, “Will you tell me about you now? I think I’ve told you just about everything there is to know about me.” She smiled at me sweetly, waiting patiently for a reply. I already decided beforehand that I would tell her the truth if she asked for it again. It still scared me to death to tell her, though.
“What do you want to know?” I asked her, not sure where to start.
“You’re not human,” she stated calmly, sure of herself.
“What makes you think that?” I asked curiously, trying to buy time to calm my nerves.
“I don’t know very many humans who can magically enter someone’s dreams every night.”
I chuckled and held her tighter, nuzzling my nose into her hair. “Well you’re right. I’m not a human being, not technically anyway.” Emilee looked up at me, eyebrows raised.
“Technically?”
“Well, according to our history or legends, whatever you want to call them,” I began, “the very first of my kind were humans. They were all brother and sister too.” I loved the way she looked at me with supreme interest. I twisted my fingers into her hair at my favorite spot—the nape of her neck—and slowly trailed them through the soft strands until my fingers became free. I continued the movement absentmindedly, not realizing I had stopped talking until Emilee spoke.
“And?” She looked at me with wide eyes, waiting to hear the rest of the story. “How did they become . . . whatever it is you are?” She laughed a little as she said the last part, obviously unaware of what I was. I wasn’t surprised, of all the human concepts detailing how Fae came to be, the truth is the least known.
“Well,” I began again, adding an air of mystery to my voice, “it was their mother’s fault really. You see, her husband died and she was terrified the gods were going to take her children from her also. So, she hid them in the forest to keep them safe—from being stolen away. However, the gods, knowing and seeing all, were enraged at her attempt to fool them. When the mother went to find her children, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t locate them. The gods had cursed them to be a hidden people.” Emilee’s eyes widened and she smiled knowingly.
“Fairies,” she whispered, biting her lip the way I liked. I laughed, moving my hand from her hair to stroke the side of her face. Pretty and smart.
“Yes, fairies is what the general human term has become. We call ourselves Fae though,” I informed her. “Do I look like some girly fairy to you?” I demanded jokingly, rel
easing her and making a show of flexing my muscles. She laughed as I hoped she would and then gently touched my arm.
“No, you don’t,” she started, “But is this what you really look like all the time? Can’t fairies, I mean Fae, use glamour?” She seemed to realize that her hand was still on my flexed arm and blushed, pulling it away quickly. I chuckled and pulled her into my embrace, cradling her head on my shoulder and holding her tightly.
“My eyes are normally red,” I said truthfully, “And my ears are usually quite a bit pointier. Glamour can only make me taller or shorter, not change my appearance.” I smiled at her as she turned her face up to look at me. She still looked somewhat confused.
“Do you have wings?” She grimaced slightly, growing more embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” she said hurriedly, “You don’t have to answer if it’s too personal. I’m not sure what’s polite to ask you.” She looked away apologetically.
“It’s not rude,” I laughed, “How else are you supposed to find out if you don’t ask questions?”
“Well fine then!” she stated. “Do you have wings or not?” She pushed herself out of my arms, choosing instead to sit cross legged in front of me, smiling.
“I do not,” I grinned. “It’s actually very rare to come across a Fae with wings, and when you do, it’s usually a person of great importance. Wings are a gift from the gods,” I explained. “You have to do something supremely great to be gifted a pair.”
“Have you ever met someone with them?” she asked curiously.
“I have,” I began, but was interrupted by a brilliant idea. “I’ll tell you about it later. Right now I have an idea, but I need to know if you trust me first.”
Midsummer Night's Fling: Belinda Boring, Kamery Solomon, Lacey Weatherford Page 13