Gravity, a young adult paranormal romance

by Abigail Boyd

  I didn't have a real answer. Jenna felt like too sacred of a topic.

  "Ever since we were little, I remember knowing I was different than them," I said, gazing up at the halo around the sun. "And it wasn't just their clothes, or the fact that they had white chocolate raspberry brownies at the bake sale when I had plain old chocolate chip."

  That made him smirk. "So what was it that felt so different?"

  "It was like they knew how much more important they were than me, and they never let me forget it," I said. I had never really analyzed the situation so much before.

  "But nobody there is more important just because of how much their parents checks are worth," Henry countered.

  That caused me to chuckle again. "That just tells me how new you are," I said, playing with the zipper on my coat. "And how innocent and sheltered from the world you must be. Money always buys power."

  Henry pushed his hands in his sweatshirt pockets. I wondered for a moment if I offended him.

  "Innocent is not the word I would use," he said, then appraised me. "Can you keep a little secret?"

  "Sure. As long as it's little," I teased.

  "My parents are mostly pushing me to hang out with specific people. To them, it's never too early to start networking."

  "Ah." Sounded like Claire in overdrive.

  "Ever since we moved back here in May, we've had a ton of dinner parties and social get-togethers that I have no interest in. I've had to wear a tie more than once, to give you an idea. They're all old friends, my parents and their parents."

  "So your mom and dad used to live here?" I asked. He nodded, looking curious as I fit the pieces together. "Hugh said something about that."

  "Who's Hugh?"

  "Oh, my dad," I explained. "My parents were kind of hippies, I guess, when I was little. I've never called them mom or dad, just their names."

  "My parents would kill me if I called them by their first names," he said ardently.

  "Metaphorically, I hope," I said.

  "Not really," he said, looking ahead as a couple of little kids cut us off on bicycles. "Respect is the number one rule in our house. I have to call my father "sir." My parents are both lawyers, and they bring the courtroom home with them." That impressed me and made me wonder how he had turned out so down to earth at the same time.

  The leaves on the trees had only begun to change, dots of color in the green flush. I wondered if he was warm in his sweatshirt as the sun beat down on us, even despite the cool breeze. I was debating taking off my coat myself. I plucked the hair elastic around my wrist, whipping my hair up and not entirely believing this whole conversation was real.

  We turned onto my street after a few minutes. A few people were out mowing their lawns, or tending to their fall flowers.

  "This is my house," I said when we arrived, with a faux grand gesture of my arms. "Ta da." He laughed, his eyes crinkling again. I don't know if I'd ever seen someone with a more genuinely happy smile, and it made his face more impossibly gorgeous the more I saw it. The goofiness I had once seen in it had disappeared.

  Hugh was standing in the dining room when we walked in, waiting like a bouncer to either okay Henry or kick him out.

  "Hugh, this is Henry," I said, watching his reaction for signs of trouble, ready to shield Henry from oncoming missiles.

  Hugh shook Henry's hand, his eyes like an airport scanner. No detail unnoticed.

  "Nice to meet you," Henry said cheerfully.

  "Likewise," Hugh said, attempting gruffness. "My daughter hasn't told me much about you, other than your interest in helping her learn. So pardon me if I have some questions."

  "Dad..." I moaned, putting my hands over my eyes. Let the mortification begin. Odds were Henry would never want to come back.

  "Sure, anything you want to know," Henry said.

  "What do your parents do for a living?"

  "They're both attorneys. My father is in criminal defense and my mother deals with real estate disputes."

  Hugh was unfazed. It probably counted as points against Henry's parents, consider how much the legal system irritated him.

  "Where did you used to live?" Hugh continued.

  "Westchester, Pennsylvania."

  "Any siblings?"

  "I have a sister, Andrea. She's a freshman in college at Villanova."

  "Okay, I think that's enough third degree," I burst in, before Hugh could continue his investigation. I put my hand on Henry's chest without realizing it. "We need to be studying."

  Henry looked down at my hand and grinned at me. I took it away, as if I had burned myself, heat prickling across my face.

  Seemingly satisfied, Hugh sat back down at his laptop. The bridge was now crossable, apparently.

  "Just so you know, the walls are very thin in this house," he said pleasantly.

  Henry grinned widely and looked down at the floor, his shoulders shaking as he contained a snicker. I didn't get Hugh's meaning at first, but when I did I was horrified.

  "Hugh! Please!" I implored him.

  "Go study," he said.

  Henry and I went into the den, and I shut the accordion doors so we would have some privacy. Since the walls were so thin and all.

  "I'm sorry about my father," I said, gritting my teeth.

  Henry laughed, his good mood only boosted by the interaction. "That's just the typical dad rundown. I would do much worse if I had a daughter. She probably wouldn't date until she was twenty-five."

  "Well, still." I set my backpack down on the coffee table.

  "It must be nice to have a parent home when you are," he continued, following my lead by dropping his notebook and book next to my stuff. "My parents are never home."

  "Most people would love that, you know," I said, glancing at him sideways.

  "Yeah, probably. I told you I'm not normal."

  "Hugh and Claire are always watching over me," I complained, flopping down onto the couch. I was hardly ever in this room except to get books. The entire wall we were facing contained bookshelves crammed full of heavy volumes. Like I didn't have enough of my own. "Even when Claire is at work, she sends me texts. They worry about me all the time. Which I get, but I feel like I'm in an invisible cage or on a leash. I wish my parents were both out of the house sometimes."

  Henry sat down next to me on the couch. His sudden proximity made my skin warm up. He smelled really good, of some random cologne but not put on heavily, just a hint of it in the air. It seemed bizarre to have him in my house, sitting on a couch I'd sat on a million times. At school, he was a distant, untouchable prize, but here, he seemed truly real.

  The thought occurred to me that Lainey had probably told him all kinds of nasty things about me, and about Jenna. I tried to keep my mind off of it. I gripped the edge of the couch cushion with my hands.

  "I did like being alone, for a long time," he admitted. "But now I mostly just wander around my house all day, reading. I could make you some high class microwave dishes. Sometimes I just drink and fall asleep."

  "Drink, like alcohol?" I asked. I didn't much like being around drunk people; they always found themselves far more hilarious than anyone else in the room did.

  "Not often. Just nips from what my mother has in the cabinets," he said, shrugging. "It helps me let go. Does that bother you?"

  It didn't, not that much. I was more concerned with what he'd said about reading. "What kind of books do you read?" I asked. Most of the boys our age barely knew how to write their own names, let alone read for pleasure.

  Henry looked bashful, copying my stance with his hands gripping the edge of the couch. He looked up at me from beneath his eyelashes. "Fantasy novels."

  I chuckled. "You mean, like dragons and wizards and that kind of thing?"

  "Yep, the very thing." He sat up a little, looking defensive. "And what do you like, romance novels? I bet you have a whole collection of sappy, sentimental vampire books sitting dog-eared on your nightstand."

  He was only teasing, but he could se
e in my face that he had hit the nail on the head.

  "I like escaping into a world that's more exciting than, well, this," I said, indicating our surroundings. "And what's wrong with romance?"

  "Nothing at all, dear," he said. It was a strange word for him to use again, something my grandmother would say, but out of his perfect mouth it sounded lovely. "I hope to someday fall head over heels myself."

  I let a little breath out of my nose, tugging a loose thread from the couch with my wandering fingers.

  "Underneath this dashing exterior, I'm a huge nerd," he continued. "I'm just warning you before we continue any farther down the rabbit hole. Promise you won't tell anyone."

  "You keep making me promise you things," I observed dryly. "What do I get out of it?"

  "Something great. I'll figure it out," he said, and winked at me. "For now, though, don't you think we should get started?"

  We opened our books, and actually did study for several hours. He helped me figure out a few things.

  "I'm so stupid at this," I said at one point.

  "You're just getting frustrated," he countered gently.

  The usual lack of confidence I had began to break, due to having someone who believed I could accomplish the work. There was no room for me to just give up, like I normally did.

  At first it was hard to concentrate. Up close, the complicated details that made him so attractive were evident. His brown eyes seemed to almost glow, framed by long lashes, and a well-defined nose balanced his face. A sprinkle of barely-visible freckles crossed over his cheeks. I took every opportunity I had to glance at him, studying every feature, trying to preserve it in my head for later. When he spoke, I realized he had a tongue bar glinting in between his teeth.

  I could feel the warmth from his body, even a foot away. Was the room always so small? He had lowered his already deep voice to an intimate tone, making warmth bloom in my belly. But I started to get into the work, the daunting page of unions and intersections not so intimidating now. As I began getting answers correct, it felt like an ego boost.

  At one point, I wrote down an answer that I had a feeling was wrong. He slid the pencil out of my fingers, making me shiver involuntarily as he corrected my mistake.

  "This is how you write a complement of a set," he said.

  "Oh," I said, still able to feel the touch of his skin on mine.

  He moved closer so that we our clothing brushed together, his eyes on the notebook paper we were using for scrap work. I couldn't help but glance at his face again.

  "I'm sorry," I said for about the tenth time. I was worried about wasting his time.

  "Believe me; I'm usually really impatient if someone isn't getting it. You're doing fine. You're not the tragedy you think you are, so stop apologizing," he scolded lightly.

  We finished up with several of the lessons I needed to know for the quiz on Friday. And I actually felt like I understood what I had just done. I hoped the feeling remained when he wasn't around.

  Light came through the slats in the blinds, making a zigzag pattern on the gray wall.

  "That must be my dad," Henry said, gathering up his stuff. He had called him several minutes before, a brisk conversation that did indeed prove his use of the word Sir. "Time went by fast, didn't it?"

  "Yeah, it did."

  I didn't want him to leave, suddenly afraid to be alone with my thoughts. Guilt always seemed to pop up the instant I was away from him, guilt for being here to experience anything when Jenna was not. I got up and peered out through the blinds. A shiny black Lexus sat in front of the house.

  "Nice car," I said. I dropped the slat, and turned around. "So you really are rich?" I asked, and instantly realized it sounded tactless. "I mean, you know. Your family. With them being lawyers I suppose you would have to be..."

  He just laughed. "I suppose so. Why are you so shocked?"

  "You seem too humble to be from that kind of money," I admitted.

  "It's just a part of who I am. Not the sum total," he said.

  He tugged his sweatshirt on over his head. He had taken it off earlier and laid it across the arm of the couch. For a moment I flashed out of nowhere back to my dream, and looked away. He didn't notice my distraction. I walked him out of the room and to the front door.

  "Bye," I said, leaning in the open doorway, wishing I had a reason to make him stay longer.

  "Bye," he repeated, turning to leave. Then he stopped, and faced me again, flipping his hood over his hair.

  "We could do this every week, if it would help," he offered.

  "Okay," I said, feeling the smile grow on my face.

  "It was fun. And besides, I have nothing else to do. Please don't make relegate me to putzing around my house," he said, putting his hands together as if in prayer. "Save me from my boredom."

  I couldn't help but laugh. It was extremely flattering. My laughter pleased him, and he looked satisfied, one side of his mouth smirking. It made him look incredibly sexy.

  "Same time, same place?"

  "Sure," I said. Henry waved at me. Blackbirds were printed on the white fabric inside his hood, framing his face.

  Rain had begun to patter, promising colder weather. I closed the door, and waited for the inevitable crash.

  Chapter 10

  "Alright, what happened?" Theo asked, ambushing me the second I walked into the commons the next day before school. A polka dot skull barrette held up either side of her fiery hair.

  "What happened with what?" I asked, feigning innocence

  "Your tutoring session." She put the words in air quotes. "I saw Henry coming out of your house, late. So how many bases did you run? Was there tongue?"

  "Whoa, whoa," I said, pulling her by the arm to a free corner. The commons was full and I didn't need everyone hearing.

  "He was helping me study, the whole time. That doesn't require tongue, unless you count speaking," I explained. "Do you just spy on my house all the time?"

  "Pretty much," she said, shrugging. "Don't feel special. I spy on all the neighbors. It makes for interesting drawing material sometimes."

  I told her a bit about what happened. In truth, I was kind of dying to gossip about it. I didn't know if it was my imagination, but it had seemed like there was a spark between Henry and me.

  Theo looked disappointed by the time I was finished.

  "Boring," she declared, crossing her arms behind her head.

  "What were you expecting?" I asked.

  "After the other day, I had no idea," Theo said. "But since I can't get a boyfriend I'm living through your romantic life. In order to do that, you need to have a romantic life for me to live through."

  "I'll get right on that," I said, rolling my eyes.

  "Good," she said, looking satisfied.

  "I've never really had a boyfriend either," I said truthfully. That's why Henry's behavior struck me as so odd. I didn't have the experience to judge where it could be leading.

  Not much had changed with Henry during school. The occasional small smile came in my direction, but otherwise he didn't acknowledge me any more than he had before. I don't know what I had been expecting. I took comfort in the secret he'd made me keep, that it was all for show. I couldn't exactly imagine Lainey thinking dragon appreciation was a plus in a guy.

  The next day, when I got home from school, Claire was in the kitchen in her best red dress. To my recollection, I had only seen her wear it before twice, which was a shame, because she looked fantastic, the color brightening her dull, office skin. She normally all but slept in a suit. Dangly rhinestone earrings glittered in the little elf ears I had inherited.

  "What's up?" I asked her.

  "Go up and ask Hugh," she said with a secretive smile. "Oh, and ask him for my necklace, too, the one that goes with these earrings."

  I trudged upstairs to my parents' room. Hugh was trying to fix his lopsided tie, standing by the antique mirror next to their armoire.

  "Claire wants her necklace," I said from the doorway. I leane
d against the frame, feeling the latch bite into my lower back. "The one you bought her last year for Christmas."

  He rummaged around in her jewelry box for the glittery item and handed it to me.

  "What's the big deal?" I asked. "Why do you guys look like you're going ballroom dancing?"

  It must have been really important; Hugh hated wearing ties. The dog collar of The Man, in his opinion.

  "You know how I've been trying to wrangle Deborah Strait for months?" he asked.

  "Vaguely," I answered, sitting on the edge of the flowered bedspread. "She's a pretty big name artist, right?"

  "Right," he said. "Well, she's finally agreed to have a few of her paintings shown at Erasmus. And that means press and attention, not to mention a little more money coming our way." He had finally fixed his tie, although it still hung a touch unevenly. "We're going out to celebrate. Which means you have twenty minutes to get ready."

  I took the necklace back down to Claire, who was busy carefully applying red colorstay lipstick in the bad light of the downstairs bathroom. I couldn't remember the last time we had gone out as a family. It had to have been over a year.

  I took the world's quickest shower, and ran down two flights to my room to get dressed. Blowing my hair as dry as I could, and finally settled on throwing it up in an old butterfly clip. A few whisps fell out, frizzing around my face. I shrugged, not thinking them too important.

  When I was finished and went up to the kitchen, Claire studied me.

  "Why don't you put on Grandma's necklace? You haven't worn it yet, once." She seemed a little upset about it.

  She was the one who adored jewelry, not me, but I didn't want to hurt her feelings. I did like the necklace; I just didn't wear jewelry often because I had a habit of taking it off without realizing it. Many a pair of plastic earrings had been lost that way at movie theaters and restaurants.

  I retrieved the green stone from my jewelry box and put it on. It was heavier than it looked, even with the delicate silver chain. The oblong pendant fell in a flattering way just above the cleavage I hoped to have someday.

  Claire was sitting on the arm of the couch in the living room, watching TV when I came up the basement stairs. An enlarged, pixelated photo of a little girl was on the screen.