by Sarah Noffke
I wanted to look at her, but I was afraid to. This was taking a path I wasn’t sure how to navigate. I had always known how to steer a conversation. I’m a fucking master at strategy. But not with Dahlia. “You are probably intrigued by my gifts. I can’t blame you. I’m sure I’m like a circus act to you.”
“Oh no,” she said matter-of-factly. “I had this reaction before I knew what you were capable of.”
Unable to resist a moment longer, I brought my eyes up to meet hers. “If you’re trying to get me to take off your clothes then all you have to do is ask,” I said with devilish grin. “I’m easy. Ask around. Everyone will tell you it’s true.”
She cocked her head to the side with a smile. “Tell me how this dream travel works.”
“So you don’t want me to take off your clothes?” I said, angling a raised eyebrow at her. “I could have sworn that’s where this whole ‘I’m obsessed with you’ thing was going.”
Dahlia held my gaze, amusement playing on her face.
“Fine. Fine,” I said, slouching down in the chair. “We’ll talk some more, but it might kill me, just so you know. I’m not really the ‘talking’ type.”
“So you can really go anywhere with your dreams? And the experience is real?” she asked.
“Yes, I close my eyes and make an intention and my consciousness soars through space and time. It really explores real places as they are. I can’t affect those not dream traveling, but I can affect the physical realm,” I said in a monotone voice. “It’s all very fascinating for Middlings, I’m sure, but you grow rather bored with it when you’re me.”
“And I’m a Middling? Because I can’t dream travel and have no gift?” she asked.
“That’s right, luv. You have no psychic gifts and your dreams are confined to whatever your subconscious serves up,” I said, enjoying too much the way her eyes scanned without seeing as she processed this all.
“So when you touch anyone besides me, you always hear their thoughts?” she asked, a speculative look making her look beautifully intelligent.
“Right again,” I said, my voice bored.
“Has that made sexual experiences weird?” she said, her face angled to the side and curiosity in her eyes.
Dahlia’s boldness was absolutely attractive. I was afraid my attraction for her was starting to slip out of me, displaying itself on my features. “Well, it isn’t weird for the other person since I know exactly what they want and how they want it,” I said. “And usually I’m all too happy to give it to them.”
I spied a small shiver run over her shoulders. I had just made her flustered. It was about time. “But for me, it’s quite irritating. The last thing I want to hear is other people’s thoughts when shagging them,” I said, hoping to spy her grow even more uncomfortable.
Instead a sly smile spread on her large mouth. “Well, then just imagine how perfect the experience would be with me.”
Something lodged itself in my throat. I hoped she didn’t notice me strain to swallow past it. “Is this when you take off your clothes?” I managed to say with the perfect degree of disinterest.
She stood and walked around the coffee table, her nude heels making note of each of her steps. Dahlia then paused two feet from me. She extended her hand. “This is when I ask you to take me to lunch.”
I considered her, her outstretched hand. “Oh, fine, I guess I do have to eat,” I said, taking her hand as I stood. And again I felt the touch of human contact without being bombarded by someone else’s thoughts. It was utterly better than I ever imagined the experience to be. I was finally living in the moment. Experiencing touch as it was intended. I should have realized right then I was a bloody goner.
Chapter Twelve
I hadn’t gone on many dates, not until that first lunch with Dahlia. I didn’t need to take girls out and listen to them ramble to get what I wanted. And I got that some people went on a date for other reasons than to score at the end. Companionship is a thing. I knew that. But I’ve always enjoyed my loneliness. People annoy me and I’d rather be alone than annoyed.
However, Dahlia didn’t annoy me like other people did. Most people irritate me with their stupidity and lack of imagination. That didn’t describe Dahlia in the least. During lunch she worked to find my buttons and then she commenced to push them over and over and over again. And strangely I liked it. More than that I liked the things Dahlia said when she wasn’t straining at the seams to get under my skin. At first I had mistaken her confidence to be a result of her global success. I was wrong. Dahlia wasn’t bold because she was famous. She was famous because she was bold.
Lunch ended too early and I found I had more I wanted to ask her. More I wanted to say. I had only ever met one person I enjoyed being with and he was dead. And then God sent Dahlia into my life. She marveled at my skill as Jimmy had and she wasn’t constrained by a boring conscience. Oh, and she was a whole lot better to look at than Jimmy.
“I want to see you use your mind control on someone,” she said as we walked down the street after lunch. We weren’t going anywhere and neither one of us was making an attempt to end the date.
“I’m not a bloody show pony,” I said.
She spun around in front of me and halted, making me halt too. “Oh, you’re not? Too bad because I would have loved a ride.”
I stared down at her with a sinister look. Even in her heels she was six inches shorter than me. The perfect height. “I’m sure you would have,” I said, strolling around her and veering into Hyde Park. I took a seat in the middle of a grassy knoll as far away from a blasted tree as possible.
Dahlia’s buffoons kept a safe distance from us. She sat beside me, her legs tucked to the side. She was probably not too comfortable sitting on the ground in a tight dress.
“What exactly do you want me to do with my mind control?” I said, my arms on my knees.
“Make that girl do a cartwheel,” she said, pointing at a teenager who was hanging with a gaggle of other obnoxious teenagers.
“What if she doesn’t know how?” I said.
“What do you mean?” Dahlia asked.
“Well, I can’t make someone do something if they don’t know how to do it. If they can’t play a piano concerto then all the mind control in the world won’t work to make them perform one.”
“That’s interesting,” Dahlia said, staring at the girl. “But she’ll know how to do a cartwheel. Everyone knows how.”
“I don’t know how to do a daft cartwheel,” I said.
“What? You don’t?” she said in disbelief.
“What use did I have learning such nonsense?”
“Oh, you’ve missed out,” she said, shaking her head at me. “First you make her cartwheel, then I’ll teach you how.”
“You’re going to cartwheel in a dress?” I said.
She shrugged. “The worst that will happen is you’ll see my panties.”
“Right, and I’m going to see those anyway. On my floor,” I added a tick later.
She shook her head and shot me a simmering look but there was a smile under it. “Go ahead, Ren, make an innocent girl embarrass herself in front of her friends,” she said, pointing to the group.
I shot a single look at the girl and directed a visual and a well-crafted thought. Dahlia watched and then her mouth popped open when the girl whirled around and did an impromptu cartwheel, but she didn’t do just one. I made the teenager do it again and again until she’d done five in a row. She would have done six but dizziness took over her and she fumbled to the ground. Her friends sprinted over, doubled over with laughter and only a smidge of concern for their almost passed out friend.
“Ren!” Dahlia said, grabbing my forearm. A huge grin spread her mouth wide. “You did that!” she said in astonishment.
“Oh, don’t tell me you didn’t believe me until now,” I said.
“Ren,” she said, her face going completely slack with seriousness. “I didn’t believe you had mind control until now.” She turned h
er attention back to the group. The girl had recovered and was sitting up but still looked winded. Her friends, though, were inspired now and a few of them were attempting to do back to back cartwheels, seeing if they could beat the girl’s five in row.
Dahlia laughed. “And you didn’t have her do just one. Were you showing off for me?”
“No, but now you can show off for me,” I said, pointing at the grass in front of us. “Show me your pants. I mean, teach me how to cartwheel. But I’ll warn you I’m an awful learner and might need you to demonstrate numerous times.”
“You know how you seem to be heartless about making unknowing people do things?” Dahlia asked.
“Yeah,” I said without too much consideration of the question.
“Well, I have the same thing with lying,” she said. “I don’t mind doing it a bit.”
My mouth popped open with disgust. “So no cartwheels then?”
“Nope,” she said, kicking her heels off and springing to her feet. “But tag, you’re it,” she said, poking my shoulder and then sprinting in the opposite direction.
“Oh no you didn’t,” I said with disbelief, shuffling to my feet and chasing after her. I heard her giddy laughter as I closed the distance between us. I would have been laughing too but I was having a hard time computing this “play” that I’d willingly entered into. And I was enjoying it. Something had put a halt on my apathetic nature and I was actually having a rare experience. I was having fun. And as I neared her a rough breathless laugh escaped my mouth.
I grabbed Dahlia’s shoulder and wrestled her gently to the grass. We rolled until she ended up on top of me, as I intended. Her hair fell vertically around me and she looked down with a mischievous glint. I pinned my hands on her hips and she moved down closer to me. We were both winded from running but I liked the way her breath caressed my warm cheeks. I encouraged her closer. Without restraint she leaned into me, sliding a hand down my jaw, not pouring any of her thoughts into my head with the touch.
“Come here,” I encouraged, grabbing her chin and angling it toward mine.
Dahlia moved in as someone simultaneously called out. “Look! That’s Dahlia!”
She jerked upright with a look of pure horror on her face. I angled my head to the side. A group had gathered twenty yards away and were gawking at us, some pulling out their cameras and snapping shots.
I whipped my head in the other direction. Her guards were double the distance of the hoard of fans who were moving closer, increasing with speed every second.
“Come on, Dahlia,” I said, shooting to a standing position and grabbing her hand. “We have to get out of here.” The group of fans was now between us and the guards. I shot a look in the opposite direction. It was clear. “This way,” I said, pulling her away.
I could control two to three minds at once but I couldn’t control a mob of hormone-crazed teenagers. Barefoot and breathless, Dahlia raced beside me, easily keeping up. We sped out of the park and I knew the asphalt must be hell on her feet. But she didn’t even grimace as we sprinted. She only whipped her head around to catch the distance of the fans trailing us. Running from them only seemed to incite them more, like this was a game. I had no idea what they’d do if they got ahold of her. People are crazy to the ones they love.
We rounded a corner and she reached out and grabbed my hand, pulling me into a tourist shop full of souvenirs.
“Are you insane?” I said, spinning her around. “This is an awful place to hide.”
She stepped up close to me, a mock threat in her eyes. “And hiding is impossible with your unmistakable red hair. We need a hat and shoes pronto.”
I raised an impressed eyebrow. “So disguises, eh? That sounds like fun.”
“Yeah, and if these fans are like most they’ll spread out and search this area,” Dahlia said.
“What do they do if they corner you?” I asked.
“Sometimes they throw their arms around me and beg for me to sign various body parts. But they always talk to me. A lot,” she said.
I grimaced. “Sounds horrible.”
“It is. I hate the public,” she said through clenched teeth.
A satisfied smile spread across my face. “Dahlia, you may not be so bad after all.”
“Oh, come on,” she said, grabbing my hand and pulling me deeper into the tiny shop. “I’m amazing and soon you’ll admit it.”
“Don’t hold your breath.” I covered my giddy smile. This girl had the effect on me to make me giddy. I had a simultaneous urge to kiss her and strangle her. Ren Lewis didn’t do giddy.
We exited the shop two minutes later. I had a bowler hat pulled down low over my hair and dark shades covering my emerald green eyes. Dahlia had tied her long brown hair into a bun and tucked it in a cap. She also had on a Hyde Park sweatshirt and a pair of flip-flops.
“Where to?” I said, peering out of the shop. Without abandonment she grabbed my hand and pulled me down the pavement. She didn’t release me after she chose a direction, just kept my hand in hers. Several kids from the mob were searching the streets inspecting the various people passing by. To my relief they didn’t give us a second glance.
“Let’s go take a ride on the Underground. I’ve always wanted to,” she said.
I regarded her with a long annoyed stare. Too bad she probably couldn’t see it under my dark glasses. “Firstly, how have you not been on the Tube? And secondly, I didn’t realize you wanted to get a staph infection.”
She laughed easily. “My guards would never allow me on the Underground. Too many security risks. They’re going to kill me when they find me after all this,” she said.
I flashed her a smile. “That would make them the worst bodyguards ever.”
I led her to the nearest station, her hand still in mine. “After we ride on the Tube, do you want to go to a hostel? I’m sure we can find one with fleas and then you’ll feel like a real rebel.”
She nodded. “Yes to a dirty hostel, but only after you do some tricks on various people on the Underground. I want to see a homeless man chunk his only shoes at a rail and an honest woman flash some school boys.”
I paused, turned, and regarded her like she was a centaur or gnome or some other mythical creature. “You just said all that like you honestly want me to make people do those kinds of things.”
She blinked at me. “Of course I do.”
“But most people would think that kind of thing was cruel,” I said.
She gave me a slight sheepish look. “Oh, do you think those things are cruel?”
“Yeah, but they’re also highly entertaining.”
“Good. I thought you’d say that,” Dahlia said. “Oh, and who cares what other people think. Their opinions are almost always wrong.”
I stared down at her, pretty certain that she was a figment of my imagination. No one could be so incredibly perfect.
She stepped forward and pulled down slightly on the front rim of my hat. “I told you we were a lot alike. I could just sense it.”
I didn’t say anything, just stared at her with a heated look.
“Come on,” she said, lacing her fingers in mine. “Let’s go create some headlines.”
We rode the Tube for hours and actually ran out of people to manipulate with pranks before we ran out of pranks. Dahlia’s tricks were usually clever and detailed. I was impressed but hid it. However, it was hard to hide the drain all that mind control and hypnosis did to me. We ate dinner in a small pub by my building and thankfully our disguises held up the whole day. Dahlia walked me to the entrance of my building and as she expected her guards were there waiting for her.
“They’re predictable dogs, aren’t they,” I said.
One was holding her heels and the other her purse and coat. They’d probably been standing there all day.
She cast them a single look before turning to look up at me. “Are you going to invite me up?”
I squinted down at her. “What? Do you want me to?” I said, unable to hide the
disbelief in my voice.
“No, I just asked that question so I could reject you and make you look like a fool,” she said with the perfect degree of snark in her voice.
I didn’t grant her a response, just stared at her. I’ve found that my stares are usually more effective than speaking. They have a nice punishing quality to them.
“Of course I want you to want to invite me up,” Dahlia finally said. “But I get that you’ve been trying to prove to yourself all day that I don’t really like you and that there’s no way you’d ever fall for a girl. Not with powers like yours. Not when you can cut the dreadful companionship crap and just have sex. But you can go ahead and drop the act you’ve been trying to keep up since we met. It’s cute but getting old.”
“Where did you come up with all that?” I said, wondering if she had duped me and was in fact a Dream Traveler with telepathy.
“Since I met you, I sense things about you,” she said plainly, like she wasn’t shattering my very existence. “For some reason I see things about you so clearly, like I know what you’re thinking at times.” And she just shrugged. Like she’d said nothing of consequence.
I studied her. “You sense things about just me or other people too?” I said.
“Just you.”
“Dahlia?” I said, a gruffness in my voice.
“Yes,” she said.
“Would you like to come up?”
“No,” she said through a fake yawn. “I’ve got an early flight tomorrow.”
I narrowed my eyes at her and hoped that they felt like punishment by fire.
She pushed me in the chest, her face cracking with a giant smile. “I’m kidding. Come on,” she said, hooking her arm through mine and pulling me in the direction of the entrance for the building.
I gave the doorman a curt nod when we entered.
“That guy, the doorman, he didn’t give you any trouble this morning when you barged into the building?” I said to Dahlia when we rode up to my flat. One guard had taken the lift before ours. The other one would take the next one.
She looked at me with an exasperated gaze. “I’m Dahlia,” she said, like that was a sufficient excuse.