by Sarina Dorie
We bumbled through awkward pauses and tried to find common interests during dinner. It would have been easier if my head hadn’t felt so spacy from the medication. We didn’t like the same music or share an occupation. His white walls were barren of art, and his furnishings too Spartan to be a conversation starter. Our only shared interest seemed to be each other. He said I was cute. I thought he was handsome. We both felt attracted to each other. I would be twenty-two in a couple weeks, too old to still be a virgin. I wanted to experience what it was like to be in love and have a boyfriend.
I hoped tonight would be the true test whether the medication combined with the talisman worked. The moment I thought I might cause either of us danger, I was going home. If I still felt those electric currents rushing under my skin, I would see if I could use my magic powers to levitate a carpet or get a broom to fly or something equally impressive.
The chicken Joel made for dinner was edible. At least the ends where it was cooked all the way through were. Mostly I filled up on the cherry pie I’d made for dessert. Joel let me pick out a DVD afterward. His entertainment center was divided down the middle: action on the left, romantic comedies and chick flicks on the right. I selected Pride and Prejudice, the BBC version with Colin Firth.
A flicker of annoyance flashed across his face. I could already tell he was only going to be Mr. Right Now, not Mr. Right.
He shrugged. “Sure, why not?”
He started toward his bedroom.
“Aren’t we going to watch this out here?” I gestured toward the immense television taking up most the wall.
He frowned. “I thought it would be more … romantic if we watched it in my room. More comfortable.” He flashed a rakish smile that would have made George Wickham envious.
I was pretty sure I knew what he had in mind. “This couch looks plenty comfortable.” I patted the seat beside me. I was not going to have sex with some guy I hardly knew and might accidentally blow up. Tonight would be a test. I would kiss him, make out with him at the most if my energies could handle it.
He glanced at his watch. “Yeah. I guess. We can probably finish it before my roommate gets home.” He trudged back into the room.
I made myself comfortable on the couch. It thrilled me seeing the historical costumes and the familiar banter between Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy. The air conditioner was up so high in Joel’s apartment we had to snuggle under a blanket. My stomach fluttered with nervous anticipation as Joel slipped a hand under my blouse.
The air conditioner in the living room window sputtered. He leapt to his feet and smacked it on the side. A few minutes later when Joel unhooked the back of my bra, the machine sputtered again. A rush of warmth flooded through me. After about ten seconds it was too hot to sit under the blanket. I couldn’t tell if the heat came from me or the summer sun baking us through the window. I prayed I wasn’t the reason the air conditioner had stopped working.
“I’m sorry,” Joel apologized. “The air conditioner did this earlier in the week too. At least it’s only ninety today. The manager said someone will be coming to fix it tomorrow.”
That was a perfectly logical explanation. I wasn’t convinced I was the reason yet. I twisted the citrine bracelet around on my wrist, thinking calming thoughts.
This wasn’t going to be like that time I’d gotten aroused at the ATM outside the X-Files convention, thinking about the sexy stiletto heels with light up aliens I was about to buy. The power had gone out, with my debit card stuck inside. Nor like that time my former coworker had driven me home in his electric car and I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about how cute he was and wondering if he liked me. He’d said I couldn’t possibly have drained the battery.
This was the first time electronics had gone haywire since I’d started my new medication. It might have been a coincidence. But what if it wasn’t?
“Maybe I should go home.” I could try a different medication or try meditating more first.
Joel fruitlessly fiddled with the dials on the window air conditioning unit. “What do you think about going to the bedroom? Just to finish up the movie. I have another unit in there.”
I stood up. “It’s getting late. I don’t feel like doing anything tonight.”
He held up his hands. “Me neither. We can just finish watching the movie, and I’ll drive you home afterward.”
I wondered if he knew the movie was six hours long. We were almost done with the first disc. I could go home then, and he wouldn’t ever suspect my real reason for wanting to leave.
I swallowed. “Sure.” He was good looking. I mostly liked him. We weren’t even going to have sex. So why did a lump settle in my gut? I smoothed my fingers over the polished stones of the citrine bracelet again. It calmed me.
We retreated to the bedroom, snuggling up on the bed and watching another half hour of Pride and Prejudice on his giant computer monitor. It was cooler in there with the small air conditioner in the window. His fingers crept under my blouse again and stroked my breasts. I could barely concentrate on Mr. Darcy’s sexy ennui. The air conditioner continued to work. That was a good sign.
A key unlocked the front door, followed by a slam a second later. Someone shifted around the apartment.
Joel grimaced. “My housemate. I guess she got off work early.” He glanced at his watch. “Don’t worry. She won’t come in and bother us.”
Ah, a female housemate. That explained the clear divide in the movie selection.
His beard tickled my neck as his lips traced over my skin. I turned my head, about to remind him I didn’t want to do anything. He kissed me with such passion, it was hard not to sink against him and surrender to the desire inside me.
“Is it warm in here?” Joel asked. He unbuttoned his shirt and waggled his eyebrows at me suggestively.
It wasn’t warm. Goosebumps rose on my skin where the cold air met it. He was probably trying to be cheeky.
“We should stop,” I said.
He wrapped his arms more tightly around me. “What? Why?”
“I should go home.”
“This is about my housemate, isn’t it?” He sounded pouty.
“No.” I didn’t want him to think it was him. “I’m just not ready.”
“This is our third date. How can you not be ready?” He eyed me quizzically. “Wait, you aren’t still a virgin, are you?”
I bit my lip. It was better he thought that was the only reason rather than the whole truth. I nodded.
“Oh, sweetie, you should have told me! We don’t have to rush anything. We can just make out until you’re ready.”
I glanced at the computer screen. It seemed to be working normally. His digital clock functioned properly. I could control myself. This had been what I’d been hoping for—to make out with him and see if I could control my magic.
I nodded. “Okay, for a little while.”
He hugged me to him and kissed me again. My body became more languid and relaxed. The more we kissed, the deeper I sank into bliss. He kissed his way down my neck, his breath steamy against my skin. Hot and cold currents flooded through my veins, like my nerves had turned into electric currents.
I should have listened to the warnings my body was sending me, but I was hypnotized by the pleasure of the moment.
“God, you turn me on,” he said. Perspiration dotted his forehead. His face was flushed. He was burning, but the room was cold. Maybe this was normal. I didn’t have a lot of experience with making out.
He unbuttoned my blouse and slid it down my shoulders as he ground up against me. Caught up in the rapture of his touch, I shimmied out of my skirt. He slid a hand into my underwear and slipped his fingers between my legs. I gasped in pleasure.
I wasn’t sure where the boundaries of making out ended and sexual activity began, but I was sure we had crossed that line. Even so, I didn’t want to stop. I felt compelled to kiss him. With every second that passed, it grew harder to remember what I had told
myself about the reason I needed to stop. He had bewitched me.
It was months later before I understood my magic and realized it was the other way around.
I ran a hand through his chest hair. If my hand hadn’t been directly over his heart, I might not have felt it speed up and lurch. For a second, I would swear it stopped. He sucked in a breath and pulled me closer before kissing me.
I mumbled against his mouth. “Do you have a heart condition?” He was thirty-six, but not too young for a heart attack.
He laughed. “No, why?” He cupped my breast, circling my nipple with his thumb.
There’d been something I’d been about to say. Oh, yes, I’d been trying to spare him from dying. “Didn’t you feel that just now? I think you had a heart palpitation.”
He kissed me again. I was tired and loopy from the medication. I wanted to lose myself in the pleasure of his touch, but a small part of me couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened before. A larger part of me couldn’t stop kissing him.
A second later his heart lurched under my hand again: one big beat and then a pause.
“Joel?”
He moaned into my breasts.
The digital clock on the nightstand was going backward. The computer screen flickered. I didn’t remember a scene with Colin Firth being naked in the pond, but there he was. Lightning flashed outside the window.
Where was that citrine bracelet? It wasn’t on my wrist any longer. Had it fallen off when I’d removed my shirt? Craptacular. The thought faded away as Joel kissed my breasts.
Joel panted against my skin. “This is too good.” He scooped me closer and rolled onto me.
My body didn’t want to stop either, but my brain knew better. He tried to yank off my underwear, but I firmly pushed his hand aside. “We need to stop.”
The palm of his hand brushed against my clitoris and a spike of uncontrollable pleasure surged through me. The sensation flowed up my chest, into my arms, out my hands, and into him. His body went rigid.
Light flashed outside the window, so bright it blinded me. Joel sank onto me, squishing me against the bed. I opened my eyes, afraid the light came from lightning. I pushed him off me. He lay on his back. His eyes rolled back into his head. There was no heartbeat.
I placed the back of my hand under his nose. I didn’t feel him breathing. Maybe it was the medication that kept me calm.
I pounded on the wall. “Hey, call 9-1-1!”
I placed my hands on his chest and tried to will an electric current into his body to start up his heart like I had with the old man. It didn’t work. I tried to think of sexy thoughts as I did it. Still, he remained motionless. Outside the school, I’d felt connected with the old man, as though my consciousness had sunk into his body. I couldn’t do that now. I could barely concentrate. My muscles were tired like I’d run a mile, and I didn’t feel that nervous energy under my skin, ready to burst forth. I felt like a drained battery.
The time Missy had unleashed that spell on me in her fury in the Olive Garden restroom, she’d been exhausted afterward. I’d wanted to run from her, afraid she might cast another spell to try to kill me, but Derrick had told me she’d used up all her magic. She’d needed time to recharge. Maybe I was experiencing the same thing. I’d accidentally cast a spell, and there was no more energy left to give.
I trembled, not wanting Joel to die, for me to be the reason.
Magic failed. It left one option.
I started with chest compressions. Straddling his pelvis topless was a little different from the position they taught in First Aid, but I didn’t have time to dress. I couldn’t remember how many chest compressions to use. I started mouth to mouth, pounded on the wall again and resumed CPR.
A minute later the door to the bedroom opened. An attractive woman wearing her blonde hair in braids paused in the doorway. His housemate, I assumed. With my bleached hair and fair complexion, we looked like we could have been related.
Her crabby expression turned to horror. “Oh my God, what did you do to him?”
“Call 9-1-1.”
Tears filled her eyes. She gasped and clasped her hands in front of her.
“Get your phone. Hurry.”
She rushed forward. She grabbed Joel by the shoulders and wailed his name. This didn’t make chest compressions an easier. It had been two years since I’d gotten certified in First Aid, and it was hard enough to remember what I was supposed to do.
“Do you know how to give chest compressions?” I asked.
She shook her head. She blubbered something I couldn’t understand and tugged at one of her braids about as helplessly as a female character from a Robert Jordan novel. The room felt hazy. Spots of light danced before my eyes. Something was happening.
I was never one for violence, but I leaned forward and slapped her in the face. Not hard enough to do any damage, but what I hoped might be enough to rouse her out of her shock. I spoke, not even knowing what I was saying before the words came out. “Get the door. Now.”
That slap to her face didn’t do her much good, but it seemed to help me. The spots cleared from my vision. I felt stronger. That was odd, but not any stranger than anything else that had happened in the last few minutes.
The woman stared at me in stunned silence. A knock pounded on the door. I shoved her toward the door, and she ran out.
Had I been myself, I might have questioned how I knew people were at the door before they knocked. I was just happy to see it was two medics in dark blue uniforms who rushed in.
I continued chest compressions as the two men got out the defibrillator.
“Ma’am, we need you to move out of the way,” one said.
I climbed off, standing in the corner where I wouldn’t interrupt. Now that I wasn’t in action, I became acutely aware of my matching polka dot underwear and bra. The bra hung from one shoulder. I turned away and hooked it back into place. My blouse was on the floor under one of the EMTs’ boots. Lucky me.
I scooted toward the end of the bed and tugged my skirt out from under Joel’s leg.
“Clear,” one of the men said. Joel’s arms and legs jerked.
I discreetly shimmied the skirt up my hips and over my bra so that it would cover the majority of my body. On Joel’s computer, Colin Firth was drowning in the lake. He was still naked.
A minute later, Joel gasped for breath.
“Joel, baby, what happened?” the blonde woman asked.
Baby? I didn’t like the sound of that.
“We’re going to take you to the hospital for an examination,” one of the men said.
“I’ll pack an overnight bag,” offered Joel’s housemate.
“Thanks, sweetie,” Joel croaked out.
She covered his face with kisses as the EMTs prepared a stretcher. He didn’t object.
“Ahem,” I said.
Joel looked to me as if realizing I was there for the first time. His eyes grew wide. He looked to the other woman. I had a sinking suspicion.
“You’re still married, aren’t you?” I asked.
He swallowed. “We’re separated. We’re getting a divorce.”
“You’re not separated if you live in the same house.” I glanced at the pretty blonde glaring daggers at me. “And you’re not divorced if you are still getting a divorce.”
The two EMTs exchanged looks. “Um, ladies, we’d like to ask the two of you to step out,” one of them began.
“I can’t.” I waved a hand to the man’s foot. “You’re on my blouse.”
The man had to shake it off his foot because he’d stepped through an arm hole.
“You look familiar,” said one of the EMTs.
He was a small man with short brown hair and a five o’clock shadow. I frowned, afraid I found him familiar too. And then it hit me where I probably knew him from.
“Nope, don’t know you,” I said quickly and snatched up my blouse.
Please don’t be the sam
e medic from last time, I silently prayed. As usual, my prayers went unanswered.
“Didn’t you call us that time your boyfriend had been struck by lightning while you two were … ?” He coughed.
I edged away. “No, not me. Must have been someone else.”
I rushed from the room. Multitasking was usually one of my strengths, but walking and buttoning ended up with my blouse inside out and missing some of the buttons. I scrambled to snatch up my purse. I was two steps out the door when I remembered the cherry pie. That had been one of the better parts of the evening.
Damn it, I didn’t even have comfort food after a night like this. There was no way I was going back for it either.
The sky was a stormy gloom that blotted out any light from the stars or moon. I checked the clock on my cellphone, but the battery was dead again.
I asked a couple walking their dog for the time.
“Ten-twelve,” the woman said.
I trudged to the bus stop and checked the schedule. The last bus came in four minutes. I plopped onto the bench.
Jason had been my last boyfriend, the one I’d dated during college. We were classmates, and he’d invited me to one of his performances. I turned him down the first couple times he’d invited me out, afraid to grow close to anyone after what had happened to Derrick. Dr. Bach insisted I was deluding myself. Normal people didn’t believe they caused tornados.
The night I saw Jason perform, I fell for him the moment I heard him sing on stage. His voice was deep and sultry. After the show, he sat with my roommate and me and ate dinner with us. He’d been perfect: so kind and considerate, smart and funny, and I liked the funny lyrics to the jug band music he sang. We dated for a month and a half before trying to sleep with each other. It was the night I picked up the condoms from Planned Parenthood that things had gone awry. We hadn’t made it far into the horizontal tango before lightning had struck him. If the ambulance hadn’t arrived to resuscitate him, he would have died.
I should have listened to my intuition, not a shrink.
I sat at the bus stop, mentally beating myself up. I shouldn’t have expected the medication to fix me. Or the citrine bracelet. Maybe it would have worked if I hadn’t lost it. Even so, I shouldn’t have tried to go on a date like a normal person, and I shouldn’t have tried to harness my magic. I was like a black widow spider. Or a succubus. I needed to learn how to control these powers, or I would never be able to have a boyfriend. I would never be able to fall in love and get married or have the kind of life everyone else took for granted.