by Mary Gray
I’m not sure why Teo brought the damselfly for me, but I can see that he’s proud, that he wants me to acknowledge his gift. My most cunning reaction would be to wrap my arms around him and snake my hand inside his coat. But I’m holding the bug and he’s turned to the side, which would make everything awkward. Besides, I don’t know if I can make myself kiss him now. It would remind me of how I actually enjoyed kissing him in the rain. Knowing I have to at least say something, I try, “Thank you.”
He reaches over and rests two fingers on the top of my hand, and while physically his touch is as light as a butterfly’s, I feel like he has the ability to bolt me down. I shouldn’t let him have this power over me. I should feel like I have the ability to step away.
“I give her to you,” Teo says, eyes round and hopeful, “because she is a metaphor for our earlier talk.”
So, she is a metaphor. Apparently I know Teo better than I thought. Anxious, I keep my eyes on the bug; her feelers attack a leaf. Maybe this has something to do with his three kingdoms in Elysian Fields.
“Do you remember how I explained what you are to me?” Teo asks, bracing an arm on the dresser that still stands by the door, covering an arch. “The strength of humility, counterbalancing my greed? All of that can be represented by this damselfly.” He points at the bug in the cage. “A damselfly is really an underdeveloped dragonfly, but some consider her to be the superior of the two. See these eyes? How they are wide apart? Dragonflies’ eyes are close together. The damselfly sees much more. I think she’s the wiser of the two.” He moves his arm away and stands up straight.
What he’s saying makes sense, and I’m not sure what to make of it. For half a second I feel like royalty in a palace, where my potential suitors bring exotic gifts. I’m finding the gesture sweet and flattering, but I hate the idea of considering anything Teo does as good. Here he’s offering me presents, when he should be offering insulin to his brother. I thank him again, as briefly yet as sincerely as I can under the circumstances, and take his arm to walk to Jonas’s. Maybe I’ll find the perfect opportunity to slip my hand inside his coat on the way.
The flat, sterile air is suffocating; the clouds stiffen, too nervous to rain. As we walk to Jonas’s, it’s like the clouds are connecting with us, with our fear.
Teo glances at my lilac dress, a silk gown barely kissing the tops of my knees with long, wispy sleeves. Knee-length means easy running, long sleeves mean a way to conceal the remote; everything hinges on finding the remote to the fence tonight.
“Purple is the color of royalty,” Teo says, eyes roving from my neckline down over my chest. He’s studied me like this before, but now it’s like he’s undressing me with his mind, which makes my stomach churn. “You have made an excellent choice with that dress,” he adds as we walk down the street, my arm resting in his.
I nearly choke as I hold back a laugh. Little does he know just how great the choice is.
Teo’s cold eyes rake over my face; he’s waiting for a smile, a blush, something showing I’m grateful, so I force my mouth into a smile. “I’m glad you like it.” He smiles a little, looking away.
We stroll, arm in arm, along the debris-free street, our strides almost matched. Before, this would have given me some form of satisfaction, knowing I can keep up with him, but now I wonder if maybe it’s because my subconscious is catching on—that I am strong enough without him. I don’t need to dawdle, wait for him to lead me now. I can be independent, which is both terrifying and freeing.
“So,” Teo says, eyeing Abe and Eloise as they kiss while walking down the sidewalk, “have you managed to decide which three couples should remain?”
“Hmm?” What can I say to satisfy him and preserve the lives of the other couples? “Why don’t we observe the couples—see how they behave tonight?”
Teo’s grip around my waist tightens, his fingers gripping my hip hard, yet another reminder of that time we spent together in his room. “Have you managed to decide which three couples should remain?”
It feels like a hand has entered my chest cavity, wrapped its strong fingers around my heart, and squeezed. But I focus, force my heart to wait before pulsing out. What would Teo like to hear? That I have a plan and I’m on his team. So I drape a cold look of indifference on my face, mimicking the expression etched on his cheeks. “Of course, but I couldn’t tell you now,” I say, as if offering a game.
Pleasure twists on Teo’s lips. “Is that right? You mean to treat me as if I am a toy?”
I lean in, forcing my head to lean into his arm, because I know I need to sell this, really sell this. Say the one thing that before I couldn’t say. Bile simmers in my throat as I spit it out, “Only if it gives you pleasure, my love.”
A low rumble bubbles in Teo’s throat. “Yes, I would say that it does.” Teo’s response is both what I do and don’t want. I’m glad that my acting has apparently improved, but I hate leading him on. I hate pretending this is who I am. But this is what I must do until we can get everyone that vaccine and find a way to leave, and by then, Teo’s hold on me will be long gone.
Steering me down the cement footpath leading straight for Jonas’s porch, I feel Teo rest his chin on the top of my head before kissing my hair, which only makes me cringe. I don’t know if poison has a scent, but if I were to describe how it smells, it would be cologne and conspiracy and Teo’s smoky-musk scent.
Once we’re on the porch, Marcus and Cleo stroll up right behind us, hand in hand. Clad in his gray knit shirt, Marcus studies his brother’s arm around my waist, and I blush because I wish he didn’t see. Rings of sweat cake Marc’s shirt. Oh, Marc. Have you run out of insulin? Cleo bends in to whisper something in Marcus’s ear, and whatever she says makes him laugh, so maybe he still has some left, but I have to believe the laugh is forced, because there are circles under his eyes. He shouldn’t even be on his feet.
Jonas greets us at the door, lips pressed together in a flat smile, nodding without so much as a word. It’s like he’s an android or something. I can’t imagine how he and Teo met. It makes me wonder if Elysian Fields was his idea or Teo’s.
As we shuffle into the living room, Cleo brushes her chest against Marc’s arm. “Oh, excuse me,” she laughs, shaking the beads on her head, but I notice she doesn’t move away. Marcus seems to freeze, and for a horrible minute I think he’s trying to make the moment last, but then he chuckles before moving away. I love Marcus just about ten thousand different ways right now.
Teo steers me to a black leather couch and gently urges me to sit, while he stands like he’s chivalrous or something.
Glancing around, I remember this room well—it’s the living room where I first woke up in Elysian Fields. The gray walls and black furniture give the room a masculine, sleek feel, one that suits Teo, but not Jonas so much. I’m not sure what type of a place I picture Jonas in. Maybe some God-forsaken land underground where, instead of people, he could stun bats.
But since Teo no longer lives here, I suppose his plans have changed. The more I’ve learned about him, the more I can see he is incapable of staying the same. He wanted the number seven, now the number three. He furnished this house for himself, now he’s stolen Ramus’s. He claims to love me, but he watches Cleo, too.
Ana looks out the windows where she’s sitting again by Sal, her face so far away, it makes me wonder if she pretends she’s somewhere else. Sal frowns at the ground, in his own little world, too. I pray Teo will spare them.
Teo has been oddly quiet, and I glance at him, but his eyes are elsewhere—over by the stairs on Cleo’s nearly translucent dress. The low lighting makes her skin seem to glow, and unveiled hunger simmers in Teo’s gaze. Men can be so predictable sometimes.
“She is beautiful, isn’t she?” Teo mutters, as if to himself. I don’t know if he expects an answer, but I remain quiet, more than a little annoyed that I have to think about Cleo again. For two more minutes, I watch as Teo studies Cleo—her low neckline, the almost animalistic curl to her lips. S
he whips her beads frequently, all of her advances directed toward Marc, but Marc’s running his fingers over his insulin pump, which is both the best and worst thing. Best, because that means he’s ignoring Cleo, worst because it means we need to get him insulin, now.
“You are being rather dull,” Teo says, without glancing away from Cleo and her Scotch tape dress.
I stare at her, too, envisioning the tape getting mangled in all the right places, and then getting stuck; I have all sorts of ideas for improving the way Cleo looks. But what was Teo saying? That I’m being rather dull. So I give him the first cop out that comes to mind. “You know how I feel.”
Teo tsks his tongue, and I know he expects more. “Why must you always be so transparent?” Which is hilarious, considering my Scotch tape idea. “Take Cleopatra, for instance,” he adds. “She has a catty sensuality. You might try that.”
I study Cleo over by those wrought-iron stairs, knowing that’s where I usually am, wondering how I usually look. Obviously, I don’t have the boobs, and my skin is like sheetrock next to hers, but Cleo’s hands rove around Marc’s waist and I can’t help but think she’s a little ridiculous. I like that I can keep my hands to myself. Most of the time, anyway. Of course, there have been mess-ups, like that time with Teo in his room, and that time in the rain, but I have learned from my mistakes.
The only thing I can think to say to Teo is that his taste is temporarily off, but that will make him mad, so I don’t say anything. Plus, now Marc’s joining Romeo and Juliet’s card game in the center of the room. He pulls up an end table and sits, and it takes a bit of concentration not to cheer. He told me I was exactly the type of girl he thought I’d be, and he said I was pretty.
But Teo doesn’t seem to like Marc’s reaction to Cleo, because he hisses, “Fool,” before striding across the room to Cleo, who’s frowning at Marcus for leaving her alone.
Reaching inside his coat, Teo pulls out a handkerchief and offers it to Cleo with a smile, like he’s pretending she’s in tears for Marcus leaving her alone like that. A curl twists Cleo’s lips as she takes the handkerchief and dabs at her batty eyes.
Teo actually throws his head back and laughs. This game between them makes it so much easier to hate Teo. But I have to be careful, because this could be the end of Teo and me. And I doubt he would be generous enough to reassign me to Marcus. We’d be his next disposables on a whim. I glance over to Marcus and decide he’s too focused on the game to look up, but then he glances up at me. Just a clear-eyed look, but it might as well be a backrub, because I’m suddenly all warm and tingly, and I can’t begin to imagine what a real backrub would feel like from him.
Teo calls my name and waves for me to join him and Cleo by the stairs. I glance over at the snacks, wishing I could make some excuse to join Abe and Eloise at the counter, but my heart plummets. Abe and Eloise look painfully lonely without Lance and Gwen.
Feeling as though someone’s yanked out my organs, I make my way over to Teo with the fakest smile I’ve ever had. I don’t even care that it’s obviously fake.
“You tell us, Persephone,” Teo tells me once I’ve joined him and Cleo by the stairs. “Do you believe it might be possible to save ourselves from such inadequacy?” He gestures to the corner by the windows, where Ana and Sal stand, and I scramble for something to veer the conversation away from them, because I don’t want him singling out Ana again. So, tell me about your treats? Oh, I guess Jonas is hosting; where exactly is he?
“You could always have them dance,” Cleo says, brushing her touchy-feely hand on Teo’s arm.
The two bow their heads together and laugh, like making fun of people is foreplay, or something. I look away, feeling the blood rush to my cheeks, my gaze landing on Romeo and Juliet—no longer with Marc.
He’s gone! Left to look for the remote? Maybe get the other one from Jonas? I hope that’s not what he’s doing, because Jonas would snap his neck. But Teo could realize at any second that Marc’s gone, so I must do something—distract Teo so he doesn’t notice, and also search his coat.
“Tell us, Hades,” I say, leaning toward him like Cleo isn’t there, purposely letting my eyes rove over his body like I’m checking him out. If I can get him close enough, I can slip my fingers inside his coat. He smiles, leaning back against the wrought-iron rails. “How did you and Jonas come to be friends?” I ask, taking a step closer, unable to tear my eyes off the front of his suit coat.
“Yes, tell us, Hades,” Cleo mimics my voice. Laughing again, she flips her beads.
But with the way I’m openly stepping toward Teo and letting my eyes simmer, it’s like Teo’s forgotten Cleo’s here, and he turns his back on her. Wrapping an iron hand around my waist, Teo calls for Jonas. “Our Persephone would like to know how we met, my friend.” I’d hoped for a moment I could lean in, but Teo’s not paying attention to me, so I look around the room to find Teo’s friend. I can’t find him until Teo takes a few steps toward the center of the room and looks high above him, to the balcony.
Ah, Jonas. There he is. It’s hard to tell from this distance, but he looks torn, tilting his head as if wanting to nod, but his lips frown almost like he wants the origin of their friendship to be kept a secret. I wonder why.
“It was your freshman year, was it not?” Teo says, clutching my waist. “You had been thrown in with some imbeciles who could not get past the way you look.”
Anger flashes over Jonas’s eyes, but he immediately smooths his gaze, simultaneously tapping the stun gun on his belt.
I glance over at Abe and Eloise, who step away from the snack counter, Abe wrapping his strong arms around Eloise. The couple lifts their heads high to study Jonas on the balcony.
“You rescued me,” Jonas answers, and it’s like he bows with his words. I can recognize that devotion flashing in Jonas’s eyes, because it’s a look I’ve often held in my own.
Teo drops his head sideways and swivels it to the side. “But it was a mutual arrangement,” he says, gesturing up to his friend. “Jonas here is the most talented artist, devoted friend, and hardworking individual I have ever met. Tell them, Jonas,” Teo glances at Romeo and Juliet in the chairs beside us, “how long it takes you to bake the muffins we all enjoy every morning.”
Jonas looks down, clearly embarrassed, bits of pink dusting the tops of his ears. “Just a few minutes,” he mumbles, his words wafting down the stairs.
Teo turns to Romeo and Juliet, his eyes wide. “He can whip them up in under four!”
Romeo opens his mouth and says, “Wow,” and Juliet raises her eyebrows as if clearly impressed. Abe and Eloise step closer to all of us in the center of the room. Eloise keeps nodding her head, smiling broadly, and Abe’s only maybe a step behind, smiling with closed lips.
“Needless to say,” Teo looks once again up at Jonas, “I knew he belonged here. He is the cog that turns the wheel. We would be nowhere without my faithful friend. That’s why I had him host tonight. To explain.”
Eloise lifts her hand to her face and whispers something to Abe, and Cleo joins us in the center of the room to say something to Juliet. The chatter is barely above rumbling, but Teo claps his hands.
“And now,” Teo says, “I believe it is time to see why my brother insists on snooping in Jonas’s house.”
My heart ricochets inside my chest. I want to run, become invisible, and retrieve Marcus from wherever he is in the house. But here I am, stranded in the middle of this room, completely useless against helping Marcus reappear. He wants to know where Marcus is? I’ll need to distract him, and get his remote.
“What can you mean?” I say, studying his face and letting my eyes wander down to his chest, but when I glance up, he isn’t even watching me. That was a waste. So I wrap my arms around his lean body, try to remember what it was like kissing him in the rain, and I move my hands inside his suit jacket to hug him without the coat.
Teo’s body freezes. Oh, God, please no. He’s going to slap me now. Or maybe he doesn’t know what I’m d
oing—merely has something against public displays of affection. He’s going to say: We do not touch each other like this in front of others. In the past, I would have felt the same way.
Instead, he buries his face in my hair and breathes in deeply. “Oh,” he says, “you have no idea what you do to me.”
I move my pinky up, trying to search the inside pocket of his coat, but the pocket is too high, so I brace his back with one hand so my other can sneak inside that pocket for the remote. He’s kissing my hair, skimming his lips across my cheeks.
Plastic. My heart flails around the inside of my chest. Slamming my lips into his, I kiss him just like when we were in the rain. I move my mouth slowly, rubbing my hand down the stubble of his face.
Teo groans right when I snatch the remote in my fist. I open my mouth over his, and I kiss him like hunger’s coursing through me. Even his face is quaking. But the kisses do not send ripples of pleasure down to my knees. I’m kissing him, but I’m not feeling anything. I pretend that I am, and hopefully Teo can’t feel the difference.
“Where did you get this one, Hades?” Cleo sighs the loudest sigh I think I’ve ever heard.
We break apart, and I’m panting, mostly because there’s a very good chance he’ll discover the remote on me. Glancing away, I find Marcus strutting down the hall, openly, like he’s hoping Teo will find him. But I have the remote! I need to pass it to him since I don’t have a pocket in this skirt.
Turning to Marcus, Teo claps his younger brother on the back. “And where were you?”
I tuck the remote in my hand and up my sleeve.
Marcus mumbles something, grinning broadly, which makes Teo laugh. I have no clue what he said, but it looks like he’s in the clear.
My next goal is to make it okay for us to go outside. A game, maybe? Like sardines, but something more.
Wrapping my hand around the crook of Teo’s arm, I coat my voice in false confidence. “I have an idea for choosing those who deserve to go.”