Run (The Tesla Effect #2)

by Julie Drew

  “It’s still a little fuzzy in my memory, but I’m pretty sure you said “Ow,” at the same instant I had a terrible pain shoot through my temple, just where I’d been clocked with the butt of a gun. And then I felt dizzy and nauseated, even though it was you who had been chloroformed.”

  Tesla’s mind raced over his words, recalling the event, what they’d said, how she’d felt. “Yeah,” she said slowly. “I do remember that. I didn’t really have a headache—I woke up, and I thought I was going to throw up, and I was dizzy when I sat up, the room was definitely spinning. But once I started to scoot around the boxes Nilsen had stacked up, once I was getting closer to where you were, I did have a sudden, sharp pain in my head. And then it was gone.”

  “Of course, my concussion and you being drugged could have produced the exact same symptoms in both of us,” Finn said. “And I’d be satisfied with that explanation if that was all there was to it.”

  “There is more, though,” Tesla said, shifting her body to move in closer to him and sitting cross-legged, facing him on the bed. “There’ve been—other things, weird things I couldn’t explain.”

  Finn, equally caught up in the conversation, sat up, too, his forearms draped casually over his bent knees. “Like what?”

  Tesla blushed, suddenly, and Finn leapt into the breach.

  “Look, Tes, we’ll just have to agree not to be embarrassed by this, we have to tell each other everything if we have any hope of figuring this out. Agreed?”

  She nodded, her cheeks bright pink, her eyes, one blue and one green, so much more startling for not having to compete with the bright flame of her red hair. They stood out like sparkling gems in the pale complexion of her face, framed by the dark cascade of her hair.

  “When we first jumped together,” she said, so quietly that Finn had to lean in to hear her, one hand on the bed a mere two inches from her knee, his weight suspended over that hand and his face much, much closer to hers than it had been.

  “Yeah?” he prodded softly.

  “When we were at Dodie’s, you, me and Sam. Do you remember I stayed while Sam went to drop you off on his bike, before coming back to get me?”

  Finn nodded, his eyes intent on hers.

  “I remember feeling—weird—when you were walking away, heading out the door with Sam.”

  “Weird how?” he asked, and she did not notice the strain in his voice.

  “Weird in that as you moved away from me I felt—I felt a kind of tightening in my chest, like I was struggling to breathe, like there was a band around me pulling tighter and it was somehow all about you, and feeling like I didn’t want you to go, and part of it was—well, fear, I guess.”

  Tesla blushed again as Finn continued to watch her, saying nothing. “Does that sound stupid?” she asked. “It’s not even a thing, really.”

  Finn brought his free hand up to her cheek and touched her skin with the side of his hand. Just once, a single, gentle stroke, even as he shook his head.

  “No, it doesn’t sound stupid, and yes, it really was—is—a thing. I know exactly what you’re talking about; I’ve felt it too.”

  They talked and talked, emboldened by their similar experiences to tell each other about every single time they’d felt that strange, tight feeling in their chests, every time they’d been aware of what seemed at the time an over-concern with the other’s whereabouts, and safety. They marveled at the degree to which they seemed tuned to each other, and Tesla pointed out that it was not dissimilar to the way she’d felt about Max for a long time after their mother had died, and still did sometimes.

  “It’s like, concern, but it’s more than that. It’s hyper-awareness, like even if I’m not thinking about you I always kind of am, just on the periphery, and it’s worry, and protectiveness, and a discomfort with distance, all wrapped up together.”

  “Exactly,” Finn said. “And of course there are lots of documented cases of people having an unexplained connection—like twins who seem to know things or even be able to communicate; it even happens with some that don’t know each other because they’d been separated at birth. It’s like Bizzy said, the entanglement exists between and among us all, it’s just not something most of us perceive.”

  They both sat silent for a moment, occupied with their own thoughts, until something occurred to Finn. “You know when you jumped back a few days ago, I felt it.”

  “You did?” Tesla asked, startled.

  Finn nodded. “Yeah—I mean I didn’t know what it was at the time, of course, it was just this totally random onslaught of emotions and adrenaline, I felt fear and excitement—a little bit of anger—exhilaration, I don’t know what all. It took like half an hour just to calm down, and I had no idea what had happened. I had already suspected I was losing my mind; thank god I talked to Bizzy before I felt you make the jump! When Sam told us the next day that you’d gone back, and about what time that had been, it all fit together. I knew I’d felt what you felt, when you jumped—along with my own worry, or anxiety, or whatever, about whatever it was that was happening to you, too far away for me to do anything about it.”

  “Shit,” said Tesla, at a loss for anything more elegant to say.

  “Tell me about it,” said Finn, nodding in a somewhat grim manner.

  Tesla looked down again, picking at a thread in the comforter. He watched her for a moment, then folded his long legs to sit cross-legged, too, facing her, their knees touching, as he took both her hands in his and waited until she looked up at him.

  “What?” he asked simply.

  “You’re probably just going to tell me again that nothing happened, but you know I felt things too, tonight. From very far away, I might add—from eight years in the past—things we both know you were feeling, and—Finn, it was awful. It hit me out of nowhere, and I’ve never felt like that before—so much rage, I didn’t know what to do with it. And the loneliness, the sense of being completely alone, and it was all so bitter, and—”

  Finn dropped her hands, and it was his turn to stare down at the bed rather than meet Tesla’s eyes which searched his face for some kind of clue.

  “Finn, you said we had to be honest. You said we shouldn’t be embarrassed. Whether we like it or not, we’re in this together.”

  “I know,” he said, and she heard the reluctance, as well as the acceptance, but despite her words, she hadn’t told him everything. She didn’t tell him that she’d felt his self-hatred, his guilt, his need to lash out and hurt, to cause pain.

  “Look, I haven’t really processed it,” he said haltingly. “It just happened, and then I went to the Bat Cave because Sam said you were coming back tonight. I—my father showed up.”

  Tesla couldn’t fully understand the weight of his statement, but she accurately read in his voice that this was huge. She reached over and took his hands in hers, but he flinched and drew his right hand back just a bit from her grip and she immediately looked at his hand, saw the oozing, raw knuckles, the swollen joints, the bruising.

  “Oh, I’m sorry!” she gasped, letting go of his hand immediately. “What did you do to your hand?”

  And then, so unexpectedly that her mouth fell open in surprise, he grinned and said, “I punched my father in the mouth.”

  Tesla finished wrapping the sterile gauze around Finn’s hand and secured it with a strip of athletic tape she’d found in the bathroom cupboard and ripped to the appropriate length with her teeth. Finn’s hand lay on a pillow in her lap throughout her very serious ministrations, which he found adorable, and disconcertingly sexy. She had taken on yet another aspect—how many faces of Tesla Abbott were there, he wondered—she was stern, no-nonsense, and completely in charge. She had marched him down the hall to the bathroom despite his protests, bathed his torn, bloody hand in warm, soapy water, and patted it dry so gently that he barely felt the sting. Then she had rummaged in the medicine cabinet until she found antibiotic ointment, gauze and tape—the tape Beckett used to wrap her hands when she boxed—and led hi
m back by his other hand to his bedroom, all trace of shyness gone from her. He watched her walk, just in front of him, down the dimly lit hallway, the rolled waistband of his boxers sliding lower, further away from the slender curve of her waist and the tight little shirt she wore. Her bare skin gleamed, twin shadows dusting the hollows on the lowest part of her back…

  He was already thinking about a Halloween costume he would love to see Tesla in. Naughty Nurse—oh, wait, maybe Hot Teacher. With heavy glasses. Even better. Wisely, he mentioned none of this to her.

  Tesla made one final adjustment to the bandage before sitting back, satisfied that her patient would live, and insisted that Finn tell her the entire story. He did, and it took all of two minutes.

  “That’s it,” he said, shrugging when she looked skeptical. “Look, Tes, I’ve never met the man. We spent five minutes together. He called me ‘son,’ and I hit him. End of story.”

  Tesla cocked her head slightly to the side, her blue-and-green eyes glittering in the low lamplight that shone from across the room as she considered him.

  “Do you believe him?”

  “Do I believe he didn’t know about me until three days ago?”

  “Well, I guess that, too,” she said. “But I really meant the most basic thing: do you believe he actually is your father?”

  Finn’s breath stopped, and he just stared at her without seeing. “I—I never questioned that,” he said slowly. “Yes, I believe him. I’m not sure why, but that part of it seems beyond doubt, for whatever reason.” He frowned. “Not exactly a proud journalistic moment, I suppose. And I’m usually such a skeptic.”

  Tesla felt a faint hint of his earlier emotions, a pulse of hurt and anger and vulnerability and she leaned forward and kissed him gently on the mouth, a soft press of her lips against his—just that, and held—it was an intimate, wordless connection that was filled with tenderness and comfort.

  When she backed slowly away, their eyes met and locked. Finn settled his bandaged hand at the back of Tesla’s head, and neither of them blinked as he pulled her slowly, effortlessly toward him, his fingers tangled in the silken dark mass of her hair. As her face neared his she unfolded her legs, pressed her knees into the mattress and leaned in. Their mouths touched, and the tender, gentle kiss of a moment ago was quickly succeeded by something stronger, something urgent and demanding. Tesla’s lips parted, her hand touched his face, and she slid her tongue along the fullness of his lower lip.

  Finn made a low sound and turned, and somehow—Tesla wasn’t quite sure how it happened—she was suddenly on her back, his bandaged hand still behind her head, and Finn lay partly beside her, partly over her, the weight of his upper body supported by his other arm, where he leaned on his elbow.

  His mouth was hot, and she felt his fingers curl tightly in her hair at the base of her neck, felt the hard muscles of his back and shoulders where her hands moved under his T-shirt though she wasn’t sure when she’d done that. Her heart beat hard and fast and she felt his simultaneously, felt its rhythm in her hands, in their mouths, in her right hip and leg that were pressed up against him, in the heat of his skin beneath her hands.

  Oh my God, she thought, dizzy, wondering if this was just the most amazing kiss in the history of human sexuality or if this entanglement of theirs was a much better deal than she had been led to believe. She broke away, turning her face slightly to the side so her mouth was free, and he lifted his face from hers, a question in his eyes, and the only indication that time itself had not stopped was the sound of their breathing.

  “Tes—Jesus,” he whispered hoarsely. “You’re...should I stop?”

  “Stop kissing me?” she asked incredulously, her voice shaking. “Don’t you dare.”

  Finn smiled wickedly and crushed her to him again.

  CHAPTER 20

  Finn woke first, and as he opened his eyes and brought the world into focus, all he saw was a curling mess of long, tangled dark hair and early morning light seeping into his bedroom through the spaces between the window blinds. He blinked once, and just as he was about to move, his brain quickly assessed the situation and he froze.

  He didn’t even breathe; he couldn’t. He was lying on his side, spooned up against Tesla’s back. They had no covers on—they were still lying on top of the comforter, and though his back was cold from the chilly air in the room, his chest and stomach were not—everywhere he touched her he was warm. He was shoeless, shirtless, wearing only the jeans he’d had on yesterday. Tesla, from what he could gather without moving anything but his eyes, seemed to have both the hoodie and boxers he’d lent her intact. The night came rushing back to him in detail, and when he decided he had to move and tried to do so slowly and quietly so as not to wake her, he realized his bandaged hand was lying against her skin, cupping her breast inside the hoodie she wore.

  He froze again, though his hand beneath the bandage, as well as his bare forearm and wrist that held her tightly against him, were suddenly on fire.

  Before he could formulate a witty remark to ease the embarrassment that was sure to follow, Tesla rolled toward him, he pulled his hand quickly out from under her clothes, and lay there blinking at her like the moron she’d accused him of being the night before.

  Her eyes were bright and clear, her face slightly flushed from sleep, and her lips beautifully pink and slightly swollen from all the kissing. He just stared at her, the irony of his plan to make her more comfortable on this sort-of morning after not lost on him when it was Tesla who gave him a teasing grin and added a cocked eyebrow he himself would have been proud to achieve at this particular moment.

  “I want you to know I still respect you,” she said solemnly.

  Finn rolled onto his back and burst out laughing, his forearm thrown over his eyes. When he looked at her again, she was leaning on her elbow, brilliant in the sunshine, unembarrassed, perfect.

  He reached around her to pull the length of her body on top of his so they were face to face, though her toes just reached his shins. He reached down as far as he could, put his hands on the backs of her upper thighs, and then ran them slowly up her body, over the perfect roundness of her ass, the sudden dip down to her waist, past her back and shoulders. His eyes were closed, as if he were memorizing her with the palms of his hands in order to sculpt her later.

  Opening his eyes then, he pushed her hair behind her ear so he could see her better, and let her really see him with no façade or masking humor.

  “Tesla, last night was incredible. I’ve never…what was that?”

  Now she blushed, but only a little. “I know. It was…yeah. The entanglement?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, still shaking his head as he touched her cheek, felt the smooth, flawless skin. “But it was more—everything, more intense, more emotional, more exciting, than anything I’ve ever…I trust you’re giving me props for my gentlemanly behavior, by the way?”

  He was kidding—almost. The tension in his body, the hardness he knew she felt lying on top of him, every last bit of him wanting her more than he’d ever wanted anything—it all brought back the frustration, the grudging agreement they’d come to last night that despite the heat, and the passion, and the incredible connection they both felt—it was too soon. There was too much happening without adding the complication of sex.

  They had agreed, but neither of them had been happy about it.

  “Yes…gentlemanly,” she repeated softly. “You’re a pinnacle of virtue.”

  Finn ran his thumb over her mouth before she’d stopped speaking, her lips slightly parted, and she grabbed his hand and moved it so she could put her mouth on his.

  Tesla felt a molten fire run through her, leaving her breathless and shaking, and it all escalated so quickly, again, as she tried to be rational. Is this me, or am I feeling Finn’s feelings—or both? Can he feel what I feel? It all rushed through her so quickly; the need to bring him in closer, wrap herself completely around him in every way, nimble and liquid and filling every tiny sp
ace between them…

  “Tes,” Finn murmured in her ear as he ran his hands down her back, following its curves, her skin like silk. His breath was coming shorter; he tried to speak and it was a low growl in his throat. “My God…”

  “Oh my GOD!” Beckett said from the doorway.

  Tesla and Finn pulled away from each other so quickly that Tesla lost her balance and fell off him and—humiliatingly—off the bed as well. She lay on the floor, her elbow bruised, and closed her eyes for a brief moment to pull herself together.

  “Beckett, ever heard of knocking?” Finn demanded, clearly angry.

  “Bizzy heard you, she said you were up,” Beckett replied, trying to sound dignified and disapproving. “Apparently that’s true,” she added, the innuendo apparent to everyone.

  “Gross,” said Bizzy, right behind her and trying to peer around her slightly larger roommate. Her disapproval was somewhat mitigated by her giggling, however.

  “Girls, seriously not a spectator sport,” Finn said, still angry, but perceptibly less so. “What do you want?”

  “We heard about your dad—Keisha is downstairs, came to check on you—and we wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  “Looks like you are,” said Bizzy, giggling again.

  Tesla decided enough was enough, and stood up, her hair wildly tangled, and Bizzy’s too-small top hugging her body and riding up—way up—over the boxers she wore that were of course twisted around sideways.

  “I jumped back late last night,” Tesla explained. “And I stayed here because I don’t want my dad to know I’m back, especially since I plan to jump again.”

  Joley stuck his head into the crowded doorway, over both Beckett and Bizzy, and the shock on his face when he saw Tesla was comical. “Oh! Morning, innit. What are we doing, then?”

  “WE are not doing anything,” Finn said. He fished around among the rumpled covers and pulled his T-shirt over his head before trying without success to smooth his riotous curls. “Tesla and I will be downstairs in a minute. If you don’t mind.”