“Are you offering to test that theory?” he asks slyly.
Knowing I asked for it, I just laugh. “Not today.”
It is impossible not to find his quick wit and easy manner appealing. OK, so there aren’t a lot of choices around here, but I have never met anyone like John Sullivan. I try to distract myself by doing a rundown of his potential abilities and for the first time my private game backfires. I find his list of strengths long and intimidating, instead of distracting me it makes me wonder even more why he is sitting with me.
We both take a minute to eat a little of our lunches. We both reach for our drinks at the same time and our fingers come closer than I like causing me to jerk mine back quickly. Feeling silly as he raises an eyebrow in my direction I mutter, “Sorry, knee jerk reaction.”
“Don’t worry about it, I remember, you have a thing with hands.” He smiles and I know he is trying again to put me at ease.
“Yeah, it’s really not that big a deal,” I grab my soda and take a long drink. He just looks at me expectantly. This time I am able to wait him out.
“If it’s not that big of a deal, do you think you can tell me about it?”
Sure, Lexi, he doesn’t even ask. I guess I should be thankful he is asking me instead of getting the story from other people; it is classier, that is for sure.
“It’s just a skin condition called Dyshidrosis. It causes blisters to form all over my hands. When they pop it is really painful and the cracks make me super susceptible to infections. It’s just kind of embarrassing and I’ve been really sensitive about it since I was little. People used to look at me like I had leprosy or something. My dad designed these special gloves for me that keep medication constantly applied and keep the blisters away.” I flex all the fingers on both hands showing off my gloves.
“I have a thing with hands because I am embarrassed and because I’m afraid of infection through contact with other people.” I hope my story doesn’t sound as phony to him as it always does to me. I have told the story so many times I can practically tell it in my sleep. Most people buy it without any questions. By laying on how embarrassed it makes me, almost everyone backs off so as not to make me feel worse. My dad thinks of everything.
“Is it just contact with your hands?” John asks, seeming very interested in my answer.
I’m not sure how to answer. I normally avoid contact of any kind as much as possible. Lexi is the only person outside of my family that had broken through my barriers enough to offer a hug or link arms. Funny how much contact you can avoid by making yourself unapproachable. I must be losing my touch with John. “Just my hands… although I am kind of a germaphobe.”
He reaches across the table to tuck a piece of my hair behind my ear. While still shocked by his nearness, I am ready this time and back away before he can make contact. “I washed my hands right before lunch, and I promise I bathe regularly.” The lightness of his words doesn’t match the intimacy of his previous touch or the tone of his voice. He just stares into my eyes and I realize I am hopelessly outmatched.
Wanting to know more about him and needing to get the conversation away from me, I ask, “Where all have you lived?”
I didn’t realize he was still leaning in so close until he sat back in his chair and the distance between us increased significantly. Run away, Paige, run away. Dad is right, this kid is dangerous, but not necessarily for the reasons he thinks.
“All over the place, sometimes only staying in one place for a couple of months at a time.”
“Where, all over the place?” I ask, wanting a real answer and hoping he is not purposefully being evasive.
“I was born in Texas, moved to California, went to Alabama for a couple of months. From there we went to Germany, then Italy, Virginia for a couple months, back to Texas and finally to D.C.” As he had been saying the places he had been numbering them off on his fingers. He does a quick recount and ends, “Yep, eight places, nine if you count here.”
“How old are you?” I ask, astonished he has lived so many places.
“Eighteen. I have a late birthday so I just missed the cut-off in Alabama where I started school. I turned eighteen two weeks ago.”
“Happy Birthday, huh?” Don’t be sucked in, every word he says melts my heart even more toward him.
“Yeah, it was a great one. Saying goodbye yet again, starting over someplace new and knowing your mom probably won’t be around for your next birthday. Good times.” His eyes are so sad I want to cry for him.
I flinch when he mentions his mom. Here I am, Doomsday in a body and my life doesn’t seem half as pathetic as his. “I’m sorry,” is all I manage.
“Aren’t we just a pair, I’m a sob story and you have dishydosis.”
“Dyshidrosis,” I correct automatically which just makes him smile.
“OK.”
“OK,” I repeat.
Again, he shocks me with his boldness, “What makes you so special, Paige?”
“I’m not special.”
“Are you sure?” I feel like he can read everything about me, his eyes boring into mine. “There’s something about you…like you are trying to fade into the background when everything about you screams for everyone to notice you and love you.”
Horror, confusion and a lovely happiness fight for room to be felt in my body. He doesn’t mean it, he is just trying to get close to me…but why?
“I couldn’t be more normal,” I lie while looking him straight in the eye. “What makes you so special, John? What makes you think I would share my entire life with someone I just met?”
“Because you need me. You need a friend other than Lexi, and I want to be that friend.”
“Why?”
“Because you intrigue me with your dyshidrosis and your thing with hands.” He must feel I am getting really freaked out because he trades in his serious expression for a brilliant smile. “Plus, I’m pretty awesome myself.”
Laughing I am finally able to break free of the trance he had me in. For the first time in a long while I look around and realize that most people have cleared out. I quickly pick up my barely eaten lunch and head to my next class with John in tow. Having left early the previous day I am not sure what classes we share for the remaining two periods, but I am sure I need a break from him.
As if reading my mind, he pulls out his schedule. “I have Calculus and Nebraska History the next two hours.”
“We’ve got Calculus together but you are on your own for NH. Thank goodness. I thought I would die of boredom the first time around, I feel for you!” Nebraska History is normally a sophomore class but it is a prerequisite for graduation so he would have to take it in order to graduate. I imagine he has it far worse than I did, I didn’t have sophomore girls swooning all over me.
“Yeah, it isn’t my favorite so far. I tried to get comp credit for Virginia History but Principal Flynn wasn’t going for it. You guys must love your history.” He rolls his eyes to show what he thinks of our illustrious history.
“I know, it is amazing they can fill an entire semester with it.”
We walk together to Calculus. Instead of being nervous and scared by his presence, his quiet composure has me strangely at ease. Why am I so comfortable with him? How am I so comfortable with him? All I’ve ever needed is Lexi; Jake rounds out our group quite nicely. I’m content.
We have other friends and acquaintances, but no one is really part of our group and I am the consummate third wheel. I know I have never let people get close to me, it just complicates my already complicated life; I just didn’t know how much I want to get closer to others. I am particularly surprised by how much I want to be close to John. After our conversation he also feels dangerous, but that just makes him a kindred spirit.
As we walk into class John heads to the seat I am sure he must have sat in yesterday and I realize that Lexi has cleared the way for me once again by making sure I am able to sit in the seat beside him. I find her in her regular spot and she winks at me
and smiles knowingly. I hope she can see the gratitude in my eyes.
Class starts and I am both relieved and disappointed that our conversation has to come to an end. I again find it hard to concentrate and I wonder if I have always been such a good student because I have never crushed on anyone before. How do people handle it? I never realized how much effort it must take to concentrate on a social life!
The hour passes quickly and I am thankful I don’t have to contribute anything. As John packs up to leave, he turns to me and says, “I am really looking forward to Friday night.” I smile and realize I am too.
Chapter 6
Looking into my locker I try to remember what I need to bring home for homework. I have been distracted all day, but am happy about it. I have tried for so long to keep everyone away that it is an amazing release to like someone and have them like me back. Giving up, I grab my Calculus, Physics and Government books; it’s not like I’ll probably get a lot of homework done anyway. When I close my locker, John is standing there waiting.
“I was wondering if you would ever notice me,” he smiles and leans against the locker adjoining mine with his arms folded. I love that he is forever smiling at me. It seems so strange that he can remain so happy when his life is so screwed up.
“Sorry, I’ve been distracted all day.” I have to walk around him to head to the parking lot and he follows. My body tenses automatically, wondering if he will touch me again.
“By what?”
Yeah, right, like I’m going to tell him! “The usual, admission tests, college applications, scholarships.” All a lie, they don’t let angels of the apocalypse into Harvard.
“Don’t you ever take a break? You don’t always have to be so serious.”
“It’s not that I am…” I am effectively cut-off when Ashlynn Taylor throws her body squarely in the path to my car. Pretending it is a mistake or an inadvertent obstacle, I try to maneuver around but she slides in front of me again.
“Hi, Paige. Hi, John,” she puts on her biggest homecoming queen smile which makes me want to punch her teeth in.
“Ashlynn.” John nods his head with the one word greeting. Of course he knows Ashlynn, who doesn’t. For the first time her perkiness and social grace really annoys me. I hate her. Ashlynn’s most defining trait is her superiority complex. I am not sure how it would translate into an ability, but she is already such a pro I am not sure a touch from me would make any difference.
Ashlynn smiles bigger, if that is possible, faking humility and surprise that he knows her name. She wiggles her way between John and I and puts her hand on his shoulder; turning her body so I get a whole lot of highlighted hair in my face. My jealousy of her easy touch covering so much of his body does nothing for my mood. Not wanting to hang around while the hot pangs of jealousy and inadequacy shoot through my body, I continue to walk to the parking lot. John drags Ashlynn close behind.
“John, I was wondering if you wanted to be my date for a party I am having on Friday night. It’s going to be incredible, and very exclusive.” She gives me a look very obviously indicating I am not on the guest list. Wonder if Reid knows she is looking for a date, can’t she be happy having every other guy in Painted Rock after her?
Before I can say anything, John stops walking and pulls out from under her hand. “Ashlynn, you did see I was right in the middle of talking to Paige, didn’t you?” I would love to blame the heat rising from my stomach and staining my cheeks on jealousy, rage or pride; but that one sentence causes me to fall a little bit harder.
“Oh, Paige doesn’t mind, do you?”
Again, before I can come up with a suitable retort, John answers for me, “I mind. And as a matter of fact, I am already busy Friday night. Paige and I have plans.” Yep, I love him. He smiles warmly at me and my heart actually stops before racing away.
Ashlynn has never had reason to feel one way or another about me. I stay out of her way and because I pose no sort of social threat, she leaves me alone. I guess John being interested in me makes me a social threat. Her eyes narrow and for the first time she looks at me as something more than scenery. She laughs as if John wanting to do something with me is the funniest thing she has ever heard. “The ice princess doesn’t do anything with anyone besides Lexi,” she says as she again tries to put her hand on his arm.
I inhale in shock, I didn’t know people think of me as cold. I always assume people think I am shy because of my condition, actually I just assumed no one thought of me at all. She isn’t done with me yet. She lowers her voice to a stage whisper and says, “We are all pretty sure she is a lesbian.”
I feel my eyes fill with tears, not because I am sad, but because I am mad. “Well, Ashlynn, I hate to break your heart, but you can’t have her because she is mine.” And with that he grabs my hand and pulls me toward my car. I look back just in time to see Ashlynn’s hands clench into fists.
The blood racing through my body exhilarates me and makes me slightly light headed. The combination shock of John claiming me as his, turning the tables on the most popular girl in school and holding my hand is enough to undo me. Holding my hand, and no one is bursting into flames! It’s too much for me and I can’t stop the tears from rolling down my cheeks.
When we reach my car he finally turns to me, “Why are you crying?”
“I really don’t know.” I wipe my tears away and try to smile, “I hope things do work out between us because you just sealed your fate at Painted Rock High.”
He wipes an errant tear away, leaving a trail of heat across my already fiery cheek. “I’m really not worried about that.” He leans in close. I can’t believe I am going to let him kiss me. I am finally going to kiss someone! How do you do it? Lexi mentioned something about a circular motion…I am all prepared for what will surely be the best moment of my life to this point when I realize he is whispering quickly in my ear.
“Please listen to me, we need to go somewhere we can talk. When we are done kissing, invite me over to your house.” He kisses me just below my ear which makes my stomach dance and sends chills all the way down my back and makes it impossible for me to process what is going on.
I try to ask him but he covers my lips with his, “Please trust me, take me home,” he says while our lips are mashed together. I think our tongues connect as we are both trying to talk, but I am not sure. As far as first kisses go, I don’t know if this can count.
He pulls away and I search for my keys. I can’t take him home! This is everything we have been preparing for; everything we have been dreading. As I pull open the door, he reaches again for my hand; this time I jerk back.
“I’m sorry about that,” he tries to look sheepish. “I thought you wanted me to kiss you.” I can tell by the look in his eyes that he doesn’t want me saying anything about his whispered pleas.
“It just wasn’t what I expected.” What did I expect, for anything in my life to be normal; for a great guy to actually like me? Good first kisses are saved for Beauty, not the Beast.
“I was hoping you could show me around town, where do high school seniors hang out around here?” He is begging me with his eyes and trying to sound casual. This is exactly the kind of crap Dad is always warning me about. I will never live this down; if we survive it at all.
“Ashlynn is probably better suited to show you around, she seems pretty into you and probably more your type.” Jerk.
He mimes stabbing a knife through his heart, “Ouch! I don’t want Ashlynn to show me around, I want you to. Please?”
“I really have to go. Now.” Trying to dodge around him without touching him again, I finally get in my car and close the door. I waste no time streaking out of the parking lot.
Picking up my phone I press the speed dial key for Dad at work. “Pick up, pick up.” It goes straight to his private voice mail; he must be in with a patient. I leave a message for him, “Dad, get home as soon as you can. Mom and I have a surprise for you.” I try to sound normal, but he will recognize the catch phrase and
know something is wrong.
Two blocks out from the house I start mentally calling Mom’s name, Mom, Mom!
What’s the matter?
“Something, I’m not sure what, just be ready. I already left the message for Dad.”
Is it that bad?
“I don’t know!”
OK, try to relax. I’m right here.
I’m breathing heavy and my hands are on fire. They are always warmer than the rest of my body, but right now I feel like they are going to explode. I try to slow my breathing, but I am already well on my way to hyperventilating.
By the time I get home, my vision is starting to tunnel and there are shooting lights in the corners of my vision. I pull into the driveway and have to lay my head on the steering wheel just to collect myself enough to get inside.
I storm through the house to Dad’s office as fast as my shaky legs will carry me. I know Mom will be there waiting for me. When she hears me come through the door, she opens her arms to me and I run into them. She hugs me until I stop shaking. “How far away is Dad?”
“Very close, tell me what is going on and I will relay every word to your father.”
I tell her about John, which doesn’t take very long and as I tell the story, it seems silly. Maybe I just freaked out. Don’t all boys want to be invited over to a pretty girl’s house? Is it so crazy that he asked to come over? Maybe he thought he was being sexy, whispering in my ear like that. Great, not only am I monster, I am a complete moron when it comes to the opposite sex.
But why would I have to trust him? Trust him not to hurt me? I mean it is the twenty-first century and he is from a big city. The more I think about it, the more horrified I am with my behavior. “I’m sorry, Mom. Maybe I just overreacted.” I throw myself down on the sofa and cover my eyes with my hands. They are not so hot now that I have calmed down. Should I mention this new development to my parents? They have so much to worry about already.
The Pandora Project Page 4