She followed Whitney’s gaze to Maxim strolling toward the bar. His smile made Sierra’s stomach flutter. She licked her teeth, checking she didn’t have anything stuck between them.
“Hey. You stopped by.” Her voice came out squeaky.
“I said I would.”
The corners of her lips tugged upward, until she was grinning like an idiot. “What can I get you?”
“Gin and tonic, please. Thank you.”
She put the glass next to his tomes on physiology, noticing the shadows below his cognac eyes. “Long day at the lab?”
“You bet.” He took a sip of his drink.
“What exactly do you research?”
“I don’t want to bore you.” He leaned forward, and her breath hitched. The tiny freckles around his Grecian nose were adorable. Despite his pallor, he pulled off the white-buttoned shirt look. Him being a researcher intrigued her. In her hometown of Manchester, most boys went to college with the intention to take the easiest subjects and party a lot. Maxim was so different.
“To put it in a nutshell, I study regulated cell death, employing techniques from biochemistry and cell biology. I research how perturbation of intracellular metabolic networks can lead to novel forms of cell death.”
“Do you study this to learn how to eliminate cancer cells?” she asked, hoping she didn’t come across like a ditzy girl. Maxim nodded and explained a couple of cell biology theories. The more they talked, the more she found herself enjoying the conversation. Oddly, she remembered what she had learned in her biology classes. It was as if her brain had sharpened since her powers had awakened—something she could’ve used for her SATs.
“Sierra!” Whitney’s face bubbled with barely concealed excitement. “There’s a customer in the back booth who has just ordered champagne. The one on the bottom.” Whitney grabbed a menu and shoved it under Sierra’s nose. “It’s French. I can’t pronounce it. But do you see the price?”
She did—$425, meaning Whitney could expect a generous tip.
“You’ve been requested as the server.”
“What? Me? Why?”
Whitney shrugged. “I don’t know, but you better hurry. You snooze, you lose.”
Sierra shot Maxim an apologetic smile as she hastened to fill a bucket with ice and grasp trumpet glasses and a chilled champagne bottle. The customer sat in the nook of the booth, hidden from view. Sierra placed the tray down and tried to stop her jaw from hitting the floor. She had expected a middle-aged, Rolex-wearing man. Instead, she found a slender blonde woman with a blue aura around her. A Blur.
“Sierra Reeves?”
“Yes, that’s me.” She knew she was staring, but how could she not? Oval, crimson fingernails; snakeskin, four-inch sandals; and a mini-dress exposed shapely, tanned legs. It was as if the female Blur had stepped straight out of the pages of a magazine.
“I’m Olga Smirnova. I’m here on behalf of Louis Duchamps, the ruler of the Southeast, to extend an invite for you to join us in Atlanta.”
Sierra swallowed hard. She had forgotten the ruler’s interest in her, but clearly, he hadn’t.
“Here’s a brochure for you. My number is on the back. Call me once you’re ready to join us.” Olga signaled for Sierra to take three of the four glasses away.
Dazed, Sierra returned to the bar.
“Are you okay?” Maxim tried to take her hand, but she pulled away.
“I’m fine.” She put the unopened brochure away.
“Who’s the high roller?” Maxim asked, craning his neck toward the back booth.
“Just some rich lady celebrating her divorce or something like that.” Sierra held her clammy palms underneath ice-cold water, wishing she could submerge her whole body in the basin.
Maxim cracked a joke, and she tried and failed to smile. He finished his drink and paid. “I really enjoy talking to you, Sierra. It would be nice to see you outside of here.”
Like an idiot, she stood there blinking at him, too overwhelmed by everything to speak. “Yeah, that would be nice,” she finally managed.
Maxim grabbed his books and left.
“I guess we’ll be seeing a lot more of him,” Whitney said with a coy smile. “You should check up on your millionaire lady.”
Unable to come up with an excuse, Sierra made her way over on shaky feet, every nerve ending in her body wound tight. When she arrived at the booth, the blonde was gone. She had left the champagne bottle 80 percent full and a tip of one hundred dollars.
Sierra slid the brochure across Gavin’s office desk. “She didn’t say much. Just introduced herself and gave me this. Said to call her when I was ready.”
Gavin cursed underneath his breath. “You didn’t commit to anything, right?”
“No, of course not. Why would you think that?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Louis knows how to paint the so-called dream lifestyle. What you have to understand is that it’s all smoke and mirrors. And it comes with a hefty price tag.”
Sierra threw her hands up in the air. “I’m not stupid.”
“I didn’t say that. But it’s easy for young people to get tempted.”
“For young people? You’re twenty-one! Stop talking down to me!”
Gavin walked over to the door. “You used mind manipulation on Whitney to get this job when I explicitly asked you to wait for me.”
She stepped aside. Not this again. She’d made one mistake. One mistake. And Gavin seemed determined to hold it forever over her head.
“I’ll handle this. Don’t talk to Olga or Louis or anyone else from their camp. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.” She saluted.
Out of the corner of her eye, Sierra noticed Jillian approaching.
“Gavin’s not here.”
“That’s okay. I came to talk to you.”
Sierra’s back muscles tensed. “Is this about Atlanta? Did Gavin put you up to babysitting me?”
“No. Not at all.” Jillian shook her head.
Sierra studied Jillian’s expression. It appeared sincere. Something, however, was wrong. Her face was ashen, and she looked painfully thin in her black dress and black tights. Even the hairband that pulled her bob back was black.
Finn. Sierra remembered Jillian’s relaxed banter with him. And now he was gone forever. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks.” Jillian ordered a ginger ale and stared into her glass, pushing the straw around. The silence around them grew thicker and thicker until Jillian finally broke it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t plan to sulk around. Gavin mentioned you grew up not knowing anything about Ardere. I know you have your grandmother, but I thought it might be nice to talk to someone your age.”
Sierra bit her lip, unsure how to reply. Jillian was sweet to offer, but she was a stranger and this was a very personal topic.
Jillian must’ve picked up on Sierra’s apprehension because she added, “I’m just trying to help. Before you, I was the only supernatural girl here. Don’t get me wrong, the guys are great, but it would be nice to have another girl around. But if you don’t want to hang out, I understand.” Jillian put down some bills and rose.
Sierra’s skin prickled and then the words burst from her tongue. “Wait. I do want to hang out, as long as it’s not a favor you’re doing for Gavin.”
Jillian smiled. “It’s not.” She sat back down. “Can you really move objects with your mind? I’ve never seen anyone do it before.”
Sierra chuckled and summarized the floating diploma and how she had attacked Jeff with a pencil. Jillian laughed at the stories. “It’s all been so minimal, it’s easy to brush it off.”
“Really?” Jillian raised her eyebrows. She finished her drink and then deliberately jostled her elbow against her glass. What happened next threw everything in slow motion. The glass fell in an arc. Too far away to grab it, Sierra’s hand swiped out nonetheless. The vessel returned to an upright position. No shards. No damage. Dumbfounded, Sierra stared at it.
“Sorry, I couldn�
��t resist.” Jillian fumbled with her Ardere bracelet. “I just had to see it for myself. You’re not mad, are you?”
Sierra shook her head. “No, that was actually pretty cool. I tried practicing by myself, but nothing happened. I guess things need to be in danger of breaking for me to do anything.”
Jillian nodded. “In the beginning, our powers only manifest when we feel strong emotions.” She paused and glanced around the empty bar counter. The few patrons in the room sat at the booths, too far away to notice what was going on at the bar. “You want to practice?”
For the next half hour, Jillian would pick an object and Sierra would try to move it with her mind. She failed most of the times, but a few of the glasses moved an inch. Finally, she had to stop when a nasty headache signaled she was overexerting herself.
“Let’s try something else.” Jillian tilted her head to the nearby booth on the left side. “What are they talking about?”
Sierra leaned forward, concentrating. So far, her omnilingualism had allowed her to understand Spanish and translate Latin. This conversation, however, was held in a Slavic language. “One of them owes the other one money.” She clamped her mouth shut and then stage whispered, “They’re talking in Polish, and I understand them.” Giddiness bubbled through her.
“I bet you’ve also noticed an increase in stamina.”
“I did. I actually went running the last few days.” In high school, Sierra had sucked at PE. Why couldn’t her powers have manifested earlier? Then she wouldn’t have always been the last one to be picked for teams.
Her new phone beeped. Luckily, Gran had allowed Sierra to buy one as long as she promised not to communicate with friends from back home. Sierra had kept her promise. It wasn’t exactly hard. An Ardere had wiped Tammy’s mind a few days prior; she hadn’t reached out to Sierra since. Knowing she would never hear Tammy’s voice again hurt a lot, so Sierra chose to at least follow her on social media. Tammy had thousands of subscribers; she wouldn’t blink twice at a name she didn’t recognize.
Now Sierra stared at the photo notification. Her heart contracted painfully, and she wished she had unfollowed Tammy.
Next to Tammy and her new boyfriend sat Ben and a girl called Erica. The caption read Double date with my new bestie.
Chapter 13
Whitney drummed her hands on the wooden table. “So, what? Your high school friend and your boyfriend have moved on. Big deal.”
Sierra’s body folded in on itself. Holding on to her coffee mug as if it were a lifeline, she glanced around surreptitiously, gauging how many of Sapientia’s clients were listening in on her personal drama.
“Look, I don’t want to be insensitive, but my high school BFF snuffed at my choice to become nurse, saying she would either do it right and become a doctor or not do it at all. Oh, and my high school sweetheart cheated on me with a friend.” Whitney flicked her blonde extensions back. “I moved on and so will you, but you have to want it. You have to move forward, instead of living in the past.”
Sierra knew she was overreacting, yet she couldn’t stop it, couldn’t get the picture out of her head. One girl named Erica had replaced her for both Ben and Tammy. Sierra took a sip from her cappuccino, which was tepid by now. It was selfish to expect Ben and Tammy to miss her when Ardere had wiped their memories.
“Luckily for you, I know the secret to moving forward.” Whitney’s face beamed with mischief. “You’ve heard the saying, ‘the best way to get over somebody is to get under somebody new,’ right? We need to get you back out there.”
“I don’t think so. I’m not really the person to…and I only ever—” Sierra stopped abruptly. This was too personal.
“What, are you for real? Are you saying you only ever slept with Ben? No way!” Sierra’s cheeks heated to an uncomfortable temperature. She looked at her nails, pushing the cuticles back. “Okay, I’m taking your silence as a yes, which is one more reason to put yourself out there, in addition to you being young, pretty, and fabulous.”
Not able to share Whitney’s enthusiasm, Sierra tried to find a way to escape the topic. “Are we still going shopping?”
“Absolutely.” Whitney turned her mug upward, swallowing the last of her caramel macchiato. “Let’s do this!”
The summer heat on West Broughton Street was unbearable. It felt like walking through a sauna. With no breeze in sight, a coat of perspiration soon covered Sierra’s nape. So, when asked where she wanted to go first, she picked the closest store to cool down in the blasting AC.
Nothing from the new arrivals at Urban Outfitters or J.Crew caught Sierra’s attention. Whitney, on the other hand, spent as if money was no object. When she disappeared into the changing room of Banana Republic, Sierra ambled over to menswear. Imagining what Ben and Tammy were doing right then, she mindlessly leaned against a rack of shirts. It swung. She flicked her hand out like she had done the previous day and the rack steadied immediately. A smile played on her lips. This power was actually fun.
“Sierra?” She spun toward the familiar voice. “I thought it was you. How are you?” At the sight of Maxim, her mouth filled up with sand, making it impossible to reply. “Are you one of those girls who shops in the men’s department?”
A nervous laugh worked its way up her throat. “No. I was just bored. I’m waiting for Whitney. She found a gazillion things that look great on her, so she’s trying to decide what to pick.” She bit her lip.
“I bet you would look great even if you wore a potato sack.”
Sierra’s blood rushed loudly in her ears, and she was certain Maxim could hear it.
“What are you up to tonight?”
“I’m working.”
Maxim opened then closed his mouth, as if he hadn’t expected this answer. He readjusted the collar of his Polo shirt. “Listen, I was wondering if I could ask you out on a date?”
“There you are! I’ve already paid.” Whitney’s gaze swiped between them. “Hello, Maxim.” Whitney winked, and Sierra wanted to die from embarrassment.
Small talk was exchanged as the three of them walked outside. Sierra didn’t catch any part of the conversation. All she could think about was whether she had blown it. Would Maxim ask her out again? Was it her turn now?
Just as she was on the verge of speaking up, they ran into Jeff. She shrank away from his shrewd, gray gaze.
“Enjoying your new job?” Jeff asked, his voice heavy with unspoken words.
“Yes, thanks.” Sierra wondered what had prompted him to talk to her. In the half dozen times, he had frequented Veneficia last week, he hadn’t even nodded into her direction.
“Did you sort things out with Gavin?”
“Sure.” She had no idea what Jeff was referring to, but wasn’t about to ask.
“I’m sorry, we’re in a hurry.” Whitney jangled her car keys and eyed her red convertible across the street.
“Have a nice day!” Maxim called after Jeff. Then he turned to Sierra. “Can I get your number?”
Relief flooded through her. She recited the digits, and Maxim waved goodbye. Could someone as accomplished as Maxim really be interested in her?
“See, I told you, all you had to do was get out there!” Whitney jabbed Sierra playfully. “I knew you two were crushing on each other that first day you walked in together into Veneficia.” Whitney put the car into drive, the ensuing breeze a welcome caress on Sierra’s skin. “Maxim’s a nice guy, and he stuck around despite that creep showing up.”
“You mean Jeff?”
Whitney signaled and turned right. “How do you know his name?”
“Because he’s always at Veneficia.”
Whitney shrugged. “Never seen him before.”
Sierra studied Whitney’s expression. It was relaxed, and why would she lie about never meeting Jeff? Still, it was hard to believe Whitney didn’t remember Jeff. Had he manipulated her mind or was something else going on?
After shopping and then working a six-hour shift at Veneficia, Sierra could barely
move. Her calves ached, her back was sore, and her ankles throbbed. She fell into bed and succumbed to a deep sleep.
Thirst awoke her. She pushed back the blanket, surprised to find herself on Gavin’s living room couch. Her feet glided across the smooth parquet floor into the kitchen, where she poured a big glass of water. In a few gulps, she emptied its contents. Without warning, a toned body pressed against her back. She allowed herself to enjoy the intimacy as she inhaled the woody scent. It was familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it.
“I will always be here for you.” Gavin’s voice, simultaneously sweet and rough, melted her limbs to marshmallows. She spun around, raw passion overtaking her and breaking free. His hands moved to her hips and rested there firmly. She felt his groin through the thin material of her shirt. Need rose within her, and she swiveled her body against his. His woody scent became stronger, intoxicating. Notes of fir and sandalwood enveloped her. He bent down, his fingers lifting her chin. His lips found hers. The kiss deepened and their lips parted, their tongues intertwined. A soft moan escaped her as she pushed her breasts and hips harder against him. Her palms explored his naked back. In one move, he lifted her up on the counter. She wrapped her legs around him, pulsating with need. A vibrating sensation buzzed against her hand. She shrugged it off. It intensified while the lines of Gavin’s body became less sharp. No, she moaned in protest.
Thump! Sierra’s eyes flew open. She was lying prostrate in her bed, the rays of the morning sun pushing through the drapes. It was just a dream, she realized, feeling flustered and betrayed by her mind. She didn’t even like Gavin. Sure, he looked good and he had helped her and Gran. Yet he was also aloof, taciturn, and treated her like a child. She rubbed her eyes and smoothed out her tangled hair. Only when she rose did she notice her cell phone on the floor; it must’ve fallen and woken her. The screen displayed a new message from Maxim, which made guilt course through her.
Maxim: Hey Sierra, hope it’s okay I don’t wait the proverbial three days. Are you into classical movies? There’s a showing next week, and I would like to take you. Let me know. The title is a surprise, so don’t ask.
Fluidus Rising: A YA Paranormal Novel: (The Ardere Series Book1) Page 8