by Abigail Boyd
He smiles and shakes his head, taking another swig of his beer and clutching the base of the bottle with both hands. “Something like that. I do custom body modifications on cars, and my friend got me the job when he heard I was coming to town.”
“Why did you move to Ocela in the first place?”
“I had some things to take care of here.” His eyes are directed elsewhere for the first time, and I sense a little deception in his careful, vague answer. “How about you? You said you came here a year ago.”
“The last place I was living, I got bored,” I recall, thinking back. “But I didn’t know which direction to move in, and I didn’t have any jobs lined up or prospects. So, I laid out a map on my floor, closed my eyes, and my finger landed on Ocela. I liked the name, it looks almost like an anagram for ocean, give or take a few important letters.”
“That’s a pretty cavalier way to pick where you’re gonna live,” he says, studying my face.
“Yeah, but it keeps things interesting.” My second cocktail is delivered and I take a gulp, wishing it did more for me. “I don’t really try things. I just do them.”
“I would fail spectacularly if I did that,” he says.
“Yeah, and I have. Many times. But I’ve also had a lot of good times that I wouldn’t have had if I’d never taken the chances in the first place. Quinn thinks that I don’t live life enough, but I think that life isn’t worth living unless you’re willing to risk it. Just going out and partying gets boring after a while.”
He’s watching me again, his expression serious and contemplative. I’m aware that I’ve veered the conversation into heavy territory. I lean back and stare at his face, then reach my hand out and boldly run my own fingers through his hair. It’s just as soft as it looks.
He laughs at me. “Did you just pet me?”
I bite my thumb and roll my eyes at myself. “I’ve just been wanting to do that. It looked really soft, and I wanted to see how it felt.”
He’s grinning again, that maddening little grin in the corner of his mouth. “Did it live up to your expectations?”
“Yeah, it was okay,” I say, my shoulders relaxing. “My curiosity is satisfied for now.”
“I agree with your opinions, by the way,” he says, staring at his bottle as he peels the corner of the label away from the glass. “On living life. I had a comfortable life back in Arizona, all my friends and my school. I even had a job there that paid more than this one, doing the same thing with a boss who was much less of a cocksucker than the one I have now. But it wasn’t enough. I just kept thinking that there was so much more out there in the world, so much I wasn’t experiencing. So much that I needed to find out.”
I stare at him, wondering if he really means it. “So you mean to tell me inside that playboy exterior is a philosopher waiting to come out?”
“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” he protests. “But I have been told I think too much for my own good.”
My drinks go through me and I excuse myself. When I return from the bathroom, two girls have come over to our table, and are chatting with James. I resume my seat, but they don’t even look at me.
“I’m not surprised you played soccer. You’re so muscular,” says one girl with long, pin-straight hair and ample cleavage, her hand twitching like she wants to reach out and touch him to confirm his muscle tone.
“Thanks.”
“Are you going to be in town long? Maybe we could get a drink,” she asks.
“Um, I appreciate the offer, but I’m actually here with Remy,” he says, gesturing toward me.
The girls look at me, finally noticing that I exist. I put my hands up to bow out. “It’s okay, this isn’t a date. You can have at him.”
He seems to have a different idea. “It was nice talking to you. I’ll tell Megan that I ran into you.” The girls, especially the one who just hit on him, pout in disappointment and leave.
“You’re a babe magnet,” I say, regarding him. I can’t blame them for coming up to him, and while I still feel that strong pull to him, time has given me a better perspective. I really am starting to get a hold of my reaction to him. He’s just a human after all, and the pedestal my brain constructed for him crumbles.
“I’m just too damn friendly. I always get my ear talked off. I’m sorry, I really didn’t think they were going to hit on me, they just know one of my sisters,” he says, but I’ve seen enough for the evening. I stand up in my seat and throw down a little more than enough cash to cover my tab.
“Where are you going?” he asks, seeming genuinely upset. He starts to stand but I gesture for him to stop.
“You’re very attractive and get hit on all the time, I get it. You should take advantage of it,” I say honestly. I know it’s the truth despite my possessive feelings.
“You think I’m that attractive, huh?” he asks, raising one eyebrow as he smirks.
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” I admit, “But I’m not into hooking up, or one night stands, and I’d prefer if we just be acquaintances from now on.”
All the humor is gone from his face and he stares up at me with his eyes strained. “I didn’t mean to piss you off, I should have sent them away earlier. The only reason that I talked to her was because she knows Megan.”
“Megan?”
“My sister,” he clarified.
I take a deep breath to ground myself. “This isn’t going the way I wanted it to, I’m sorry. I’m just not dating right now,” I try to explain. I wish I could feel more like a regular girl for once, accessing the emotions that I’ve stuffed in me. I haven’t had to put this into words in a while. “I’m not good at relationships, even temporary ones. I just don’t connect well with people.”
James bites the inside of his cheek, pursing his lips. “Remy, why are you telling me this? It’s okay if this isn’t a date, I just wanted us to hang out. I’m sorry that I let those girls interrupt it. We were having a good time, and as far as us connecting, you can’t deny that we already have.”
“No, I can’t deny that.” But I don’t want to hear anymore. “The truth is, I like you a little too much, and like I told you, I’m nothing special. There are thousands of other girls in this city who can give you what you need.”
An expression of frustration has settled on his face, and it strikes me that he’s at a loss for words for once.
“I did enjoy talking with you,” I continue. “But I think this is the last time we should go out together. Have a good rest of your night. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
And I’m out of the bar before he has a chance to reply. I don’t want him to have a chance to wedge in and do something disarmingly charming to make me stay.
CHAPTER TEN
JAMES TAKES MY words to heart. We say hello the few times we pass each other in the halls the next week, and he transfers my laundry into the dryer one day, but that’s the extent of our interaction. I know I’ve made the right decision, but I still regret it. Why couldn’t I have just stayed and blown it off? I know the answer to that. I like him too much to make it casual.
The goth couple who made my one night a miniature hell make another appearance at work. I groan the minute I see them sitting in one of my booths, but this time they remain eerily silent, and don’t even leave a mess for me to clean up. But they watched me the entire time they were there.
One day I’m bringing up my mail, flipping through it and separating my bills from the junk. “Hey, Remy,” I hear James call from behind me. I turn and see him sprinting to catch up with me.
“I’m sorry about how the other night turned out,” he says, not even needing to catch his breath. “That’s not what I wanted to happen. And I get what you told me.”
“I hope I didn’t come across as rude,” I say, biting my bottom lip. “But I wanted you to know the truth so you didn’t think I was leading you on or being a tease.”
He waves the suggestion away. “Not at all. You stated what you want and don’t want and I
respect that. I may not love it, but I respect it.”
I feel my shoulders relax, and I know it’s because I’ve been worrying about how I came across to him. He follows me as I tread back up the stairs.
“Did you hook up with that girl, the one who knew your sister?” I can’t help my curiosity, and I figure I might as well ask.
“No. Why would I do that?” he asks, genuinely surprised. “I told you I wasn’t interested in her. I didn’t stay long after you left, actually.” We reach our apartments, and I hesitate before staying out in the hall. There are knots tying themselves up in my stomach, but I face him.
“Okay. But what I said still stands.”
“I know.” He leans up against the wall and slides his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “But I still want to be friends with you.”
“Why are you even interested in me?” I burst, clutching the mail in my hands.
“Other than the fact that you’re hot and obviously smart and funny when you want to be?” he asks, tilting his head to the side. The knots tie even tighter and I shift uncomfortably on my feet. I can’t believe he just said that to me, and yet I rush to memorize every word. “You mystify me.” That corner grin is back, and the wolfish way he’s looking at me makes me gulp.
“Why?”
“Because even though we have this chemistry between us,” he stares at me, his face solemn, “You don’t want me. You don’t want me to sleep with you, you don’t even want to date me.”
“So, it’s the thrill of the chase?”
He laughs and looks down at the floor, shaking his head. I remember how soft his hair was and clench my fingers together. “Maybe. I don’t know. But just tell me we can be friends and that I haven’t blown that much?”
“You didn’t blow anything,” I say, and then wrinkle my nose. “Thank God you didn’t make a ‘that’s what she said’ joke just now.”
“You gotta admit, it was a prime opportunity,” he says. “That’s got to be some sign of willpower.”
“How are we going to be friends? I mean, have you ever had a friend that was a girl?” I eye him suspiciously.
“Of course I have. In seventh grade,” he clarified. “But I’m ready to try your technique, just jumping into things, not planning them.”
I bounce on my feet again. Somehow I knew he would get his way in the end. “Fine then, friends. Should we shake hands or something?”
He steps forward and we awkwardly shake hands in the center of the hallway.
“I foresee this going well. No possible problems,” he says, grinning at me again.
“Why do you always do that?” I ask as I step back.
“Do what?”
“Why are you always grinning like you know something that I don’t?”
His gaze searches my face. “Maybe I do.” He narrows his eyes a fraction, shaking his head. “God, you look so familiar. The way you’re biting your lip like that. It’s driving me crazy.”
“Uh-huh. Think what you want. As long as you’re clear that we’re never having sex.”
“Why do you keep bringing it back to sex?” he says, and now his smirk grows wider. He opens his apartment and steps inside, turning over his broad shoulder to wink at me. “You have a pretty dirty mind, Rem.”
I blush as he shuts his door and almost throw my mail at it, but barely resist the urge to be juvenile. Instead, I lean against the wall, and think about what he said. All of it. You look so familiar. I wish I could figure out why I don’t want to tell him he’s right.
###
The next weekend I actually have a Saturday off of work for once. Midday, a solid rain begins to fall and cuts some of the humidity. Even better, a repairman has been dispatched to hit the central air with a wrench a few times and scratch his head, and by the afternoon cool air is blowing out of the vents again.
I sit on my couch under my favorite quilt, turning myself towards the back so that I can watch the rain. I love rain because it reminds me of my favorite place, a house I lived in when I was younger that was built right on a public beach.
James wasn’t kidding when he mentioned the view. I have a spectacular skyline glimpse of the city, and the windows take up nearly the entire living room wall. Sometimes I just like to sit here and think or read. Ocela isn’t gigantic, but it’s prosperous, and there’s always the rush of activity below. The rain makes little trails down the glass, and traffic sloshes down below as the downpour starts in earnest.
The blue-gray drops fall and patter the ledge, chasing away the dust that has accumulated there. I look around and realize gloom has settled over my apartment. I’m too comfortable to stand up and flick on the lights, though, so I take the lazy way out. I turn to my coffee table, where I have a few candles set up. Relaxing my mind, I imagine a fire growing inside me, and breathe out the heat over the wicks. In a second, the room is glowing cheerily.
I’m not as concerned with using my special skills—I think of them as magic, but I’m honestly not too sure—when I’m by myself. I set the candles on the windowsill in front of me and lean my head on the back of the couch again.
I’ve been able to do these things for as long as I can remember, but that only goes back to the age of about twelve. All the time before that has been erased. I have no idea where I was born, where I came from, who my parents are, or even when my true birthday is. I was bounced from foster family to foster family when I was a kid, after I was found wandering the streets with my hair a nest of snags and in a dirty, torn dress. When the social worker asked me what my name was, I told him Remy. The last name I use now isn’t even legally my last name. Officially, it’s Doe.
I try not to think about that now as I’m trying to have a peaceful moment. I try to relax, but something has changed. The hair on my forearms stands up, and I look down and stare at it. When I glance back at the window, a golden flash lights up the corner of town like a fallen star. It shines so brightly that my eyes hurt, but then it’s gone. This time I’m positive that it was on top of a building only a few streets away.
I jump to my feet, then lean over and press my face against the glass to get a better look. It’s not just my eyes, and it wasn’t lightning. Someone or something made it happen.
I run to James apartment and I don’t stop until I’m pounding on his door.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“WHO IS IT?” James/ voice calls from the other side. Our front doors are not equipped with peep holes.
“Remy,” I say, still trying to catch my breath, and I clutch my hand on my chest.
“It’s open.” I push open the door and rush in, only to stop cold. James is on the floor with his hands behind his head, doing situps. Shirtless situps. My mind goes elsewhere for a moment, and I almost forget why I came, standing there in the door as he continues to curl his muscular torso up. I try not to watch how the muscles of his six pack move fluidly beneath his lightly tanned skin, but it’s not working.
“Can I help you?” he asks as he stops and grasps his knees. “Why were you banging on my door?”
The words come tumbling out in an excited rush. “You know the flash that we saw at the club? Well, I just saw another one, and it looked like it came from the rooftop of a building just a few blocks over.”
He’s instantly up on his feet, putting a towel around his neck. “Just now?”
I nod. “Out of my window, while I was looking at the rain.”
“You sure it wasn’t lightning? It’s raining pretty good out there, maybe it’s turning into a storm.”
“No, I don’t think so. I didn’t hear any thunder and I haven’t seen any other lightning.”
“Do you think it was in the same spot as the other night?”
I think about it for a moment, taking in the direction of the Longhorn from here. “It’s definitely possible.”
He takes a sip from a water bottle, leaving his lips wet. I lick my own without even thinking about it. I really wish he would put on a shirt so I can think coherently. Fr
iends, friends, friends, I repeat to myself. Don’t think about how he called you hot, or how his corny sex jokes make you wet.
“Show me where,” he says, and finally shrugs on a t-shirt and comes with me to my apartment. It’s the first time he’s ever been here and it feels kind of intimate as he pads across the carpet bare foot. He follows me over to the window where I pull the blind up higher and then point out and show him the top of the dark building, which has a large antenna and is taller than the ones surrounding it. The rain is falling harder now, but it’s still easy to make out.
“Right there. It was the same as before, just a flash and no sound. Maybe it’s some secret government test or something.”
He raises one eyebrow. “Right on top of a building in full view of the city?”
“Good point.”
He clicks on the TV, changing it to the local evening news. The woman is prattling about a melon festival, but there’s no breaking news.
“Huh,” James says.
“That’s your analysis? ‘Huh?’”
He turns toward me. “Do you want to go and check it out?”
“You mean drive over and try to get on that roof?”
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
I think about it for a second. “Sure, it’s worth a shot. I’m dying to find out what it is.”
My phone has been sitting on the coffee table, but he picks it up. I’m too surprised to protest as he starts messing with the screen.
“It’s eight-thirty now,” he says, still typing with his thumbs, “I have to meet up with some friends in a little bit, but I have about forty-five minutes to spare.” He hands the phone back to me, and as I take it, our fingers brush. I can’t help the little shiver that goes through me when our skin touches.
“So what were you doing when you were violating my phone?” I ask, scrolling through to see if I can figure it out.
“I put my number in there. I figured if you see anything else and I’m not around, you can get a hold of me. Or, you know, if you just want to talk.”