At First Touch

by Dunman, Mattie

  “Carey, I wanted to thank you again for your help with the whole…Fitz thing,” I said in a lowered voice.

  “I told you, Liz. I want to help. You know, a guy from the FBI came to talk to me this afternoon.” I stiffened, afraid that he would tell me that was the last straw and to leave him out of my troubles. “I told him what I told the police; that I had gone outside to say hi to a friend when I heard a scream and ran around the building. I said that I found Fitz already unconscious and saw a girl run around the back of the building, but that I couldn’t recognize her. He seemed to believe me,” he said, his tone lightening.

  “What was the agent’s name?” I asked, curious if it was Thrasher or his partner.

  “Special Agent James Carson. He was really nice. He did ask me about you though; he knew I had been there with you somehow and wanted to know where you were and why you hadn’t been with me when the attack happened. I just told him that you went out to talk on your phone and that I didn’t see you after that. I hope that was ok.” It was amazing that he had managed to come up with the same story as I had.

  “No, that’s great. That’s exactly what I told the agent who came to see me.” I frowned, sure that I was missing something, feeling a twinge of uneasiness that I had overlooked an important detail. I shrugged it off and grinned at Carey. He blinked and smiled back.

  “So, can we let the whole thing go for tonight and just have fun?” he asked, his eyes sparkling. I laughed and agreed. There was a sudden burst of cheering and we looked around. The band had been successful in putting their equipment together and were ready to play. Carey shot me a quick grin and then grabbed my gloved hand in his and dragged me along as he pushed through the crowd to get closer to the band. Even through the glove I could feel the warm pressure of his hand and was surprised at how right it felt.

  The band started up with a clumsy cover of an old Cure song, “Friday I’m in Love,” and the crowd began swaying rhythmically with the music until eventually a few scattered individuals started to dance. Despite myself, I was tapping my foot to the beat and grinning, totally overwhelmed by the experience of my very first party. When the band moved on to a slower song, some eighties ballad that was best left alone, Carey turned to me with that astonishing smile that was so devastating to my ability to think.

  “Do you want to dance?” he asked, his eyes uncertain.

  I opened the connection between us for a moment and found that he was thinking how much he liked me, how pretty I looked in the light of the fire, and how much he wanted to put his arms around me. I felt the blood rush to my head and closed my mind to his. It seemed so unbelievable to me that even as I became increasingly attracted to Carey, he could be feeling the same way.

  “Sure,” I mumbled, unable to meet his eyes.

  He laughed softly and slid his arms through mine, placing his palms on my lower back. Nearly shaking, I slid my hands up his arms, blinking in disbelief as I felt the strength buried in the muscles my fingers passed over. I finally rested my hands lightly on his shoulders, trying to maintain a safe distance between us. We swayed back and forth awkwardly for a few moments, and then Carey took his hands off my back and reached up to pull my arms around his neck, forcing me to move in closer, our bodies just a hairsbreadth away from touching. My heart pounded wildly as his hands made their way back to my hips.

  He was watching me with a half-smile curving his lips and I found myself wondering what it would be like to feel them on my neck, my cheek, my mouth. I shivered a little and pictured him kissing me, the desire in me so strong I had to close my eyes and try to get a grip on myself. I sucked in my breath when I felt Carey’s mouth brush beneath my jaw, and my eyes flew open. He was bent over me, trailing his lips along the side of my neck, his warm breath tickling the skin, starting a violent trembling all over me.

  “Wha..” I breathed as he slowly drew his lips along my cheek, pausing at the edge of my mouth, pressing a gentle kiss just at the corner of my lips. My control slipped and I plunged into his thoughts, which were turbulent to say the least.

  “What am I doing? This is insane; I barely know her! But she feels so good, so right…I can’t stop, can’t stop, can’t stop…” His thoughts were fast and confused and helped to clear my head a bit. I gently pulled away, not wishing to reject him, but knowing that things were moving too fast. Reluctantly he let me go and I was able to close the connection between our minds. His eyes widened and then narrowed as he studied me intently.

  “There’s something about you,” he whispered, reaching a hand up to stroke my hair. “I don’t know what it is, but I feel like I know you, and that you know me, probably better than you should. There’s just this…connection between us. Am I right? Or is it just me?” His voice was soft and wondering, eyes warm with affection.

  I felt an overwhelming urge to tell him everything, to share the burden of my life since the accident, explain why he felt such a strong connection to me, but I stopped, afraid of what his response would be.

  Instead I answered him as honestly as I could without giving anything away.

  “No, it’s not just you.”

  He smiled and placed his lips on my forehead lingeringly. “I didn’t think so,” he said, and pulled back, giving me room to breathe and collect myself.

  “Well, isn’t this cozy?” I started at the voice behind Carey. With a sigh, he draped an arm casually around my shoulders and turned around to see Preston glowering at us.

  “Preston,” Carey nodded, his voice tight and controlled. Preston merely sneered and moved closer to us, stumbling a little. I realized with a shock that he had been drinking, quite heavily if I was any judge.

  “Man, if I’d known she was that easy, I might have made a little more effort…”

  Preston’s offensive remark was cut off as Carey moved faster than I would have imagined possible and picked Preston up to toss him angrily to the ground like a worn tissue. Preston sat on his haunches, blinking with surprise and pain, while Carey stood over him fuming.

  “Stop it now, Preston, before you go too far. She doesn’t need to hear your filth.” Carey’s voice had never sounded so threatening, so furious. I could see him clenching and unclenching his fists, clearly trying to restrain himself from causing Preston further damage.

  Finally Preston seemed to catch up and staggered to his feet, a thunderous expression on his face.

  “Should’ve known she’d go for you, Drake. She looks like the primitive type. Just be careful you don’t catch anything…you don’t know where she’s been,” he sneered, absurdly pleased with his wit.

  I could see Carey was at a breaking point, so I simply rolled my eyes, removed my right glove, and punched Preston in the nose.

  “Ow…what? OWWWWW!” he bellowed, clutching his bleeding nose in his hands and staring at me in fear and surprise. “What the hell?”

  “Oh, calm down. I didn’t break your nose, although you’ll have a beauty of a shiner tomorrow.” I kept my voice light and pleasant, but knew that my eyes were full of menace. “Let me make something perfectly clear, Preston. You are not to speak to me again, for any reason. I find you…distasteful. Besides,” I said, lowering my voice, “I know a few things about you that I imagine you don’t want to be broadcast over town. For instance, I doubt it would do much for your reputation as a Casanova if people found out about your evening with Jessie Cramer.” I raised my eyebrows at him meaningfully and his whole face went white, his eyes widening in horror.

  “H-how do you know about that?” he stuttered, looking at me like I was a witch. I knew Carey was staring at me too, but I ignored it and smiled blandly at Preston.

  Oh, I downloaded your entire life when I punched you.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know? But no one else will if you leave me the hell alone.”

  “Fine, fine…geez. Sorry. Just don’t…don’t” he stammered as he backed away, blood trickling through his fingers grotesquely.

  I just continued smiling at him until he turne
d away and ran off, trying to hide his face from curious onlookers. I felt an overwhelming sense of satisfaction, though I knew once again I had gone too far. I hadn’t really wanted to download Preston, but in a way it was probably for the best. I had enough dirt on him now that I should never have to worry about him bothering me again.

  Carey cleared his throat and I sighed, turning back to face him, pulling my glove back on wearily. He was looking at me with concern in his sapphire eyes and his lips were pulled tight into a disapproving line.

  “Sorry, I just got tired of him,” I muttered, looking around for some kind of distraction. The band had moved on to what I assumed was an original number based on the immature chord progression and lyrics. We were being ignored; everyone was caught up in their own drama or just in having fun.

  “No, you had every right, it’s just…” Carey paused, eyeing me contemplatively. “You seemed to know stuff about him; I’m just wondering how you found out? I didn’t think you had spent that much time together.” That was putting it delicately. I thought for a moment, trying to think of a reasonable explanation and failed.

  “I have my sources,” I said simply and moved to change the subject. “Anyway, let’s just forget about Preston. He’s a tiresome subject.” I gave him a hesitant smile and after a moment he nodded.

  “This is one of those things you can’t tell me, right? About your…abilities?” I nearly choked on my drink. Carey was far too insightful for his own good.

  “Yes. You could say that,” I replied carefully. He nodded again and looked off toward the fire. I resisted the urge to listen to his thoughts, trying to leave him the privacy of his own mind to decide whether or not he still wanted to be around me.

  “I think you and I have some things in common,” he said mysteriously, still looking into the fire. I raised my eyebrows, wondering if he was considering telling me the truth about himself. If he did, would I?

  “Well,” he said abruptly, a brilliant smile creasing his face. “At least it’s clear that neither of us cares much for Preston.” Ah, he was dodging the bigger issue. I breathed a sigh of relief, pretty sure that I wasn’t ready to exchange confidences just yet.

  “Yeah, I think we’ve established that,” I laughed, and the intense moment passed.

  The rest of the evening seemed to fly by, leaving me with scattered impressions; V.J. and I dancing to Blister in the Sun, the four of us laughing over something Mark said, Quade’s shy request for a dance with me, the last song of the night, twirling slowly in Carey’s arms. By the time the party drew to a close and people were calling out goodbyes, I was flushed with happiness and riding high on a wave of normalcy. Mark and Carey walked us to V.J.’s car; she and Mark drifted off to say a more private goodnight and Carey leaned up against the car casually, his full lips drawn into a sweet smile.

  “I’m really glad you came tonight,” he said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. I shivered delicately, unused to the sensation.

  “Me too,” I returned, feeling unaccountably shy again.

  “Liz, I like you. I’d like to take you out, like on an official date,” Carey stated simply, his eyes intent on mine. I quelled the urge to jump up and down clapping hysterically and contented myself with a smile.

  “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

  He grinned and his whole face shone, as if a light had been flipped on inside. I felt intensely proud that I had caused that look. Leaning forward, he dropped a soft kiss on my cheek, letting his lips linger just a moment longer than strictly necessary. Hesitantly, tentatively, I reached my hand up and slowly ran my fingers through the silky hair hanging just above his ear. His eyes closed and I rested my gloved palm on his cheek, leaning in slightly to whisper in his ear.

  “Goodnight.” I stepped back and swiftly slid into the open passenger seat. V.J. appeared out of the dark and I had a feeling she had been giving me my moment of privacy with Carey. With a final wave to the boys, we pulled out of the parking lot and headed into the night.

  “Did you have fun?” V.J. asked, wiggling her eyebrows like an overexcited cartoon. I laughed and said I did, pulling out my phone to call Dad. He asked if everything was alright and I quickly assured him that I was well. I agreed to call him one more time, when I got settled at V.J.’s.

  “Your Dad’s kind of a worrier, huh?” V.J. asked. I shrugged and put my phone away.

  “Yeah, ever since Mom died he’s been a little overprotective.” I was shocked at myself. I’d never talked about anything so personal as my mother dying with anyone before. V.J. gave me a sympathetic look.

  “How long has it been?” she asked, her voice suddenly serious and quiet. I hesitated for a moment and then told the truth.

  “Four years.”

  “I lost my mom when I was eight,” she said quietly, her tone introspective. “Things changed between my Dad and me then too.” She glanced at me with a wry smile. “Pretty much the opposite of you and your dad. He ignores me now, just gives me a huge allowance and whatever I ask for, as though that will make up for him not being there.”

  I could hear the bitterness in her voice and felt my chest tighten in sympathy. I knew I was lucky to have Dad. Maybe I had never understood how lucky. He had dedicated his life to me.

  “My stepmom, Mandy, is only twenty-seven. She’s the farthest thing from my mother imaginable. I’ve always wondered what made him hate Mom enough to replace her with someone like that,” V.J. said musingly. Then she seemed to catch herself and shook her head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to burden you with my troubles.”

  “It’s ok. It’s hard for other people to understand if they haven’t lost someone. They can try to be sympathetic, but they never really know,” I thought out loud. She gave me a surprised glance and then nodded.

  “Yeah. I guess that’s true.”

  We were silent for a while, each of us thinking of our mothers. I wondered what mine would have thought of Carey. I thought she would like him.

  “We’re here,” V.J. announced, her voice back to its usual jollity.

  I looked out the window and stifled a gasp. We had pulled onto a long, paved drive, lined by maple trees, and were now circling around and pulling onto a wide stone-paved driveway. The house was incredible, like nothing I’d expected to see in a dinky town like Pound. Though it was pitch dark outside, the front of the…well, mansion, was lit like Christmas morning, stately brick walls looming over us impressively. There was a fountain placed in front of winding stone steps that led to the front door, which was opened by an austere looking man in a suit.

  “Welcome to mi casa,” V.J. laughed playfully and slid out of the car, starting up the stairs. I got out more slowly, trying really hard not to look like the country mouse, but I imagine I still had a stunned expression on my face. V.J.’s casa looked like it belonged somewhere in the Hamptons, not the middle of nowhere in West Virginia.

  “Thomas, would you get the bag out of the trunk?” she called to the man waiting at the door. He nodded briskly and moved down the stairs and past me with a polite nod, retrieving my bag. I repressed the urge to grab my stuff and tell him it wasn’t necessary, but I figured it might be insulting, so I just moved to follow V.J.

  “Uh, this is really nice, V.J.” Damn it, my voice sounded awed.

  “Thanks. I’ll give you a tour. Dad and Mandy are out of town, so we’ll have the place to ourselves.” She seemed a little self-conscious, so I got my admiration under control and tried for nonchalant.

  “Sounds good. Um, do you think we could order a pizza or something? I forgot to eat dinner and now I’m starving.” She grinned and nodded.

  “No worries. We probably have some pizza in the freezer; I don’t think anything’s open this late.”

  I followed her into a spacious foyer decorated in what I thought was French colonial, but I wouldn’t want to put money on it.

  “Thomas, will you please put Liz’s bag in my guest room?”

  Once again the silent but courteous T
homas, who upon closer inspection looked a lot like a young Kevin Costner, nodded and scooted elegantly through an archway to the left through which I caught a glimpse of a gleaming mahogany staircase.

  “So, tour or food? Which comes first?” V.J. asked in a strained voice.

  I could tell that she was wondering what I would say about the way she lived, and honestly, I wasn’t sure what to say. I had no idea that anyone in West Virginia lived like this, and I was more than a little curious about where her father got the kind of money it would take just for upkeep. Still, V.J. was my friend now and her house and her car and her father weren’t her.

  “If you don’t mind, food sounds good. I’m starved.” She nodded and waved for me to follow her. “Your house is really pretty,” I added lamely. V.J. turned around and flashed me a sardonic smile.

  “I know, it’s way over the top isn’t it? When my mom was alive we lived in a pretty big house, but it was much more homey. Nothing like this. This…monstrosity was Mandy’s idea, and of course Dad can’t deny his ‘little princess.’” Her tone was uncharacteristically cynical and I began to see what she was talking about. The meandering halls and opulent rooms reminded me a bit of a plantation I had toured when Dad and I lived in Georgia for a while.

  We walked in silence through a beautifully appointed dining room complete with a marble fireplace and pushed open a heavy oak door on the far side. As I passed through I breathed a sigh of relief; finally, a comfortable, less intimidating room.

  The kitchen was huge but not unfamiliar; while the stainless steel appliances were clearly top of the line, the floors were well worn flagstone, the granite countertops covered with various cooking gadgets, including one of those Italian espresso machines I’ve seen on the home shopping channel. Despite the obvious expense of the room, there was a lingering aroma of tomato sauce and baking cookies that gave it a homey atmosphere.

  “This is more like it,” I said without thinking and then clapped a hand over my mouth, appalled at my rudeness. V.J. just laughed and nodded as she made her way to the monolith of a refrigerator.