by Pema Donyo
"Hello, Adrian."
CHAPTER FIVE
August Monthly Horoscope for Virgo (Born August 23 - September 22)
Someone you trust is holding a secret from you, one more deadly than your own. You may feel as if you are simply going through the motions lately without much purpose behind your relationship. This will soon change, but not before your outlook on an important situation changes first. Someone, driven by jealousy, has altered his or her outlook on you. Another has changed his or her outlook based on love instead. Be wary of those around you. Whatever secrets you currently hold are nothing compared to the secrets others hold from you.
I ran forward, my feet flying across the floor. I jumped forward and wrapped my legs around Adrian's waist. He caught me as one of his arms wrapped across my back. The other fell beneath one of my legs to support my weight against him.
I wrapped one arm around the back of his neck and used the other to tangle my hands in his hair. He kissed me full on the mouth. I closed my eyes and threw everything I had into the kiss, responding to his eager touch with my own.
He smiled against my lips, and the feeling sent my brain into overdrive. My senses were flooded. His cologne drove me crazy with longing. His muscled skin felt rough under my touch as I grabbed his bicep to support myself. The sandy stubble on his lower jaw bristled against my chin when my lips collided against his. I bit his lower lip, my teeth barely grazing it, and then pulled away. Our eyes were locked on each other, finding the familiarity of comfort in each other's gaze.
Being in each other's arms felt like coming home for both of us. An unspoken promise hung in the air around us. I was safe in his arms, and he was safe in mine.
He set me down, but didn't tear his eyes from me. I barely registered Tommy pulling at my jean leg to get my attention. A cleared throat came from behind both of us.
I glanced behind Adrian’s shoulder to see Emma standing behind him.
"Emma!" I ran over to hug her as well.
Emma didn't respond. She simply patted my back with a weak effort.
I pulled away to face her. Her expression was a cross between anger and... disappointment? I furrowed my brow. "Emma, are you okay?”
Emma glared at me. Her forehead creased from the force in her scowl. "Why are you even here?"
I resisted the urge to back away. What was going on? "I'll fill you both in later, I..." I raised an eyebrow at Emma. Caution filled my tone. "I'm glad to see you, Emma. I missed you."
But Emma sure didn't seem to have missed me. She didn't even look at me after the initial glare. She walked over to Adrian and whispered something in his ear. He nodded, and the girl I used to call my best friend since I was six years old walked away from me as if I had a contagious lethal disease.
Um, what the...
I wanted to run after Emma and ask her what was wrong, why my sudden reappearance seemed to piss her off. Maybe she was just shocked at seeing me? I'd give her some time, I thought. Maybe she was tired from the mission. I refused to believe my best friend of eleven years suddenly didn't want to speak to me.
Tommy pulled at my jeans again. "Infirmary! Infirmary!"
I walked Tommy over to the room three doors down and explained to the nurse what had happened. My hand held Tommy's instead of Adrian's, but once Tommy was inside the infirmary and Adrian and I were sure he was being tended to by the nurse, it didn't take long for Adrian’s hands to find me yet again.
His arm snaked around my waist and held me pressed against him. I couldn't focus on Emma anymore with Adrian next to me.
I burrowed my face into the corner of his shoulder and neck, inhaling the distinctive and calming scent of him. Being so close to him was calming. His hands stroked down my hair and he planted a kiss on the top of my head. My body thrummed with the rush of contentment flowing through me. I wanted to stand there forever, basking in the physical comfort we gave each other.
I didn't know how much time passed until Adrian finally spoke up. By then we were sitting against one of the hallway walls of the classrooms. I guessed it'd be another hour before the training session ended and kids were released from class for the day.
One of his hands was in mine, our fingers entwined as I sat in his lap and rested against him at an angle so we could still see each other's face. He mumbled something into my hair first, his tone a mixture between reverence and irritation.
He spoke louder, so I could hear. "Marty told me what happened." I heard the hard swallow in his throat before he spoke the next sentence. "I thought you were dead, Janey."
Hearing his nickname for me once again made my heart soar.
"It's my fault you got stabbed."
"No, no, no," I soothed. "It's not your fault. I don't know why you think so."
"I delayed you when I was held at gunpoint. I took too long taking the guy out. Even if I was killed, you could have shot the target sooner and got away."
"Pretty inconvenient, considering I would have never left without you."
"I left without you."
"You didn't have a choice." I wanted to wipe away the worried look from his expression. All I could do was plant a tender kiss on his lips, then lean closer to him to whisper in his ear in the most genuine tone I could muster. "I didn't want you to be caught."
"When you were gone..." His voice trailed off, but then regained strength. "When you were gone, I kept thinking you were right. It didn't matter whether or not you were in CO, as long as you were still around." He squeezed my hand, and I squeezed back in a way I hoped was reassuring. "Let's stay together, Janey. Stop thinking about the future and planning and stay together."
I nodded, and he breathed a sigh of relief in response. Tears threatened the corners of my eyes, about to fall. I wiped them away, hoping he wouldn't notice. He did though, and he wiped them away for me instead. My heart twisted in my chest at his gesture. The affection between us was bordering on all-consuming.
It was bordering on destructive and dangerous.
****
The chocolate wrappers were cleaned from my apartment, as were the tissues and the library of chick-flicks.
In their place sat two glass tumblers, an empty wine bottle, and a seventeen-year-old boy with eyes the color of the ocean and hair the color of sand. Fair trade.
I raised my nearly empty tumbler, the purple wine resting in my stomach instead of in the glass. "A toast!"
Adrian, who had definitely consumed less glasses of wine than me, raised his glass with an amused expression. "To?"
"To..." I waved my tumbler, searching for something relevant. "Ah!" I raised my forefinger with the hand not holding my glass. "To the future of CO!"
"What about it?" He watched me down my glass without taking a sip from his.
"I'm going to apply for an executive position." I beamed. I downed the remainder of the wine from my glass. There, I'd said it. No point in dodging the bullet now.
Adrian lunged for me, bringing me back to sitting on his lap as he held my arms pressed against my chest. "You changed your mind." The sentence was a statement, not a search for confirmation. "You're going to be an executive."
I waved my empty glass tumbler at him, giving him a wary eye. "Hey, hey, hey. Not so fast, Mister. I don't know yet whether or not I got the position." I hiccupped, then reached for the wine bottle. "Remember the story of when I thought I was going to win the science prize when we were at Trinity Prep? Lesson learned!"
His eyes lit up. "You're going to get executive. And I'm going to be CEO."
The drunken haze in my head cleared for a moment, enough to register what he was saying. I stiffened against him. "No way."
"Believe it. The CEO told me himself. Said he's impressed with me, and I'm next in line after he retires." His hands roamed over my arms, running up and down in the telltale sign. I smelled the alcohol from his breath. "I'm starting training next month."
I peered into the bottle, expecting to find the remainder of the wine left unconsumed. Only an empty bottle
met my gaze. Maybe Adrian finished more of the wine than me after all.
"What do you do in training to be CEO?" I started taking mental notes, but kept my voice casual. "More target practice?"
"Not sure yet." He nuzzled my neck, and I arched my neck toward him. I granted him free reign and welcomed the warming sensations he stirred within me. "Now tell me the story."
"What story?"
"The one about how you didn't win the science prize." His lips curved into a smile against my neck, teasing me to tell him more. "How did the day end for you again?"
I stood up with a sigh. "I'm not telling you the story again… hey!" I squealed and ran away as soon as Adrian got up to chase me.
"Yes, you are!" Adrian reached me in two seconds, of course, and scooped me up. My skirt spread out across my legs and over my sandals. He lifted me bridal-style as if I was as light as a feather, and the familiar feeling of weightlessness made my toes curl. Maybe he was just strong. "You're going to tell me because I love hearing it."
I threw my head back with an expression of mock exasperation. "I don't know why you like hearing it so much." I jumped out from his arms and walked over to the pantry. I opened the door, searching for more wine. The alcohol already in my system warmed the pit of my stomach and clouded my vision.
"I like hearing what happened." The voice edged closer to the pantry as I left with a full wine bottle in hand.
Too late. Adrian cornered me against the countertop.
"All right, well." I rolled my eyes at him, as if telling the story was a great chore. "I thought I was going to win the science prize at the fair, and I didn't. I was crushed and went back to my dorm. But you found me in my dorm afterward and..."
He placed his hands around my hips and raised me up on the countertop. My giggling stopped.
"And?"
"And..." My breathing slowed. "You told me I didn't need some stupid prize to know how good at science I was.”
One of my hands tightened round the back of his neck, and his hand gripped my thigh. I wrapped my calves around his waist as he pushed against me on the countertop, the space between us closing.
I took in a shaky breath. Recalling the memory and feeling the sensations flooding my body kept me in a delicate balance. "You said I was smarter than anyone you'd ever met before, and then you pressed me against my desk and did something like..."
He completed the memory and finished the story with his body's movements. As his left hand dropped to grip my thigh, I pulled his body closer toward mine, desire coursing through my veins. My hands roamed his neck and a part of his back, the part which made his lips push harder against mine. His tongue pressed against my closed lips, and I parted them for him, allowing our bodies to become even more entangled. The aching familiarity of his movements stirred something within me. We drank each other like wine, downing everything in a rush and without pause. When he finally pulled away he kissed my nose with a light touch.
"I missed you," he murmured. I wrapped my legs tighter around him in response, the clothes between us serving as my last barrier against complete surrender to him.
"I missed you too." It was the most honest sentence I’d said in weeks, and the wonder of finally telling the truth to someone, even by accident, felt amazing. His body pressed against mine in a way which couldn't feel more intimate or completely natural. "This feels right."
His way of agreement was to interlace his fingers in mine. I still sat on the counter, the wine bottle completely forgotten next to me. We were each other's own form of intoxication. "Let me see."
My arm moved to cover my body on instinct. A crushing feeling of realization settled in my stomach. "See what?"
He knew I understood him, and he just set my arm away from my abdomen. He lifted my shirt enough to see it. There wasn't an intake of breath, or a shocked expression, or a healing kiss. There was only his stare against my scar, his eyes roaming over my stitches, and the pressed, emotionless line of his mouth as he considered my injury.
"Enough." I tried to bring my shirt down, but he continued to hold it up. His muscular hand didn't budge, but I didn't mind him looking. I felt so exposed and vulnerable underneath his gaze. He wasn't the first to see the scar, so many other kids in the Judo class had wanted to see and Tristan and Marty and the scientists and even Lucy. But it felt so much different when Adrian was looking at it.
Maybe it was because everyone else commented on it. The children congratulated me like I was Jack the Giant Slayer. Tristan whistled and said it looked like it must hurt. Marty wondered how many stitches there were. Lucy threw her arms around me and said she was so sorry. But not Adrian. All he did was, well, stare and refuse to make a sound. It was as if he was trying to commit each stitch to memory, like he memorized an Ancient Greek algorithm or a fact on conflict over oil in the Middle East.
I felt like a book when Adrian looked at me. Not because I was easy to read or anything. But because he studied me. He considered me, pondered me, critically analyzed and sometimes even translated me. He tried to pick apart my different actions and dialogue like he would with a literary masterpiece.
I was a book because I was Adrian's favorite book. He protected it, made sure to keep it from rain, didn't let anyone else borrow it and never wanted it to leave his side. I was like an ancient volume he'd found in an antique store when he was young, and over the years it became more valuable and irreplaceable to him.
Finally, his fingers traced over my scar. The pads of his fingers burned the sensitive skin. I was suddenly afraid, afraid to hear him say something I didn't want to hear. What if he thought the scar was ugly? What if he was studying it because he hadn't realized how hideous it was?
I yanked down my shirt with finality. "I'm proud of it." I puffed out my chest as if I didn’t care how the scar appeared. "I don't care if it looks bad, the stitches remind me I survived."
He said nothing, just kissed me. The kiss was sweeping this time, devoid of the carnal desire from before and no longer tender. This time his kiss was consuming, not in a claiming or possessive way, but in a complete and covering way, as if the kiss could protect me from all the evils and battles I had yet to face. I could've died in the kiss and not felt a bit of sadness. His touch made me feel whole; it made me feel like he would always be right behind me, ready to catch me if I were to fall backward.
When we needed to pull away to gasp for precious oxygen and find our breath once again, he rasped out, "I'm going to take care of you now."
I whispered back, "I can take care of myself."
His grip on me tightened. "You won't have another scar on your body, not as long as I'm around."
"Don't worry about me.”
“Why not?”
“I'm not the weak five-year-old you met twelve years ago. I know what I'm getting into; I'm strong enough."
"I want to be your strength."
I laughed at how romantic and cheesy the words sounded, and he seemed to realize it too. He started to laugh along with me, through the coarseness in his throat and the emotion choked up in mine. It was like we were trying to dispel the tension, to take the intensity of our relationship down a notch. But I knew how much his words meant.
I hoped he understood how much mine meant too.
****
"Emma's not flirting with Adrian, she would never betray you." Lucy shook her head over bites of her salad. Her long and glossy high ponytail swished back and forth, emphasizing her denial. "You don't understand. When you were gone..."
"He was upset, I know." I stabbed at my salad, as if piercing the tomato slices with enough force would be enough to stop Adrian from talking to Emma. Pointless. I glanced up and settled my gaze behind Lucy. He and Emma both laughed over something Emma said. She curled one of her blond, silky straight strands of hair around her pale finger, smacking her gum and looking up at Adrian with clear adoration. I pointed my fork in their direction. "But I'm not gone anymore."
Lucy lowered my fork back to my bowl, like an own
er scolding their dog. "Oh. You have nothing to worry about. He is with you, not Emma. If he wanted to be with Emma, he'd break up with you." She placed a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide in apology. "Not saying he will. Emma would never do such a thing to you."
"Yeah? Well Emma's been ignoring me and acting like I'm annoying her." Every time I tried to talk to her, she walked away or nodded to me and still walked away. The only times she even tolerated me was when Lucy was with us, or Adrian. Yep, I thought, watching her twirl the piece of hair like there was no tomorrow, she definitely liked being around Adrian.
"Emma acts mean to everyone. She’s mean to me sometimes."
"Then why do we hang out with her?" My skin prickled with annoyance at her cold shoulder treatment. If she didn't want to be friends with me, why would I want to be friends with her?
Lucy gasped. "We can't not be friends with her. We've known each other since first-year. Remember? Best friends forever?"
I picked up my salad to throw it away in the trash. Forget salad, I needed cookies. Lucy followed after me. She eventually stood right in front of me, blocking my path to prevent me leaving the twelfth-year dining room. "We can't be mad at each other!"
I raised an eyebrow at Lucy. "I'm not mad at anyone. But what she’s doing..." I pointed at Emma who brought her hand to touch Adrian's bicep and clearly licked her lips. "What she’s doing is called flirting with someone else's boyfriend, Lucy. And I'm not going to sit here and watch."
Lucy pouted, but let me pass by. I took one last glance at him, my blood boiling with anger. One heated reunion and then he starts flirting with someone who'd once been one of my best friends? Disgusting.
I strode out of the dining room with an unintentional slam of the door. The slap of the oak hitting the wooden doorframe echoed through the hall. Oops. I fast-walked away from the room before Lucy or worse, Emma, could start running after me.