"Excuse me," a woman with frizzy brown hair says as she wiggles by Sloan with a shy smile. I roll my eyes. It will be never-ending; the unabashed attention he gets from women.
Once they are out of ear-shot, Sloan reaches down and grips my hand, guiding me next to him and over to the Depot door once again. He opens it and glances around quickly before pulling me inside. Baffled at the fact that he is still holding my hand, I don't hear him close the door behind me, but I see that we are alone in the Depot room. With a gentle tug, Sloan pulls me into his chest.
My knees go soft and threaten to buckle as he softly whispers next to my cheek, "I've been wanting to do this for a really long time."
His mouth comes down onto mine with enough force to part my lips, but his kiss turns gentle and warm almost immediately. A delicious shiver runs through me while my body submits to his completely, molding into his lean form as we eagerly press into each other. I can feel the button from his jeans pushing into my stomach. Is this really happening?
As he pulls his lips away, I open my eyes to see that his are still closed. I watch each feathery black lash until they flutter and part, displaying the deep ocean-blue of his irises. Studying his face, I wonder if my lips are just as flushed as his are.
We both say, "Wow" at the same time. And when we laugh, we share the air between our mouths, which quiver only an inch or so from each other still. Breathing heavily, I blink up at Sloan, realizing I've somehow met the wall with my back. With my right hand fisted tightly in his shirt, I have pulled the collar of the soft material down enough to see the fine hairs just below his collar bone. Slowly I open my hand, splaying my fingers across his chest as one of his arms tightens around my waist. I wasn't even aware he was holding me until I feel his fingers dig into my hip. The sweet and sour smell of grapefruit fills the air around us as I struggle to regulate my breathing.
Finding comfort in the cool wall, I lean against it for support. Sloan closes the gap between us by lightly touching his lips to mine; not quite a kiss, more like a promise of a future one, before he leans back slightly and runs his free hand through my hair. He's twisting it slowly around his fingers when a door opens behind him.
"Gosh, I'm sorry to interrupt," says the elderly man that exits one of the two departure rooms. Even though he smiles, we break apart and step away from one another like we were caught making out by the school principal.
Sloan coughs nervously and lifts a hand at the volunteer while I clamp my mouth shut with my teeth to keep from giggling out loud. After the man removes his assignment card from the massive wall on the other side of the room, he gives us a quick nod before making a haste escape.
"Busted," Sloan says quietly before returning to my side.
I let the giggle out and smile up at him, "Yeah, busted is right."
"Are we in trouble now?" he asks me quietly as he leans a hand against the wall, effectively trapping me.
"If we are, I don't really care," I breathe.
"God, I was hoping you'd say that," he says teasingly against my ear. As his mouth moves along my jaw, finding its way back to my lips, a light flashes in between us.
"What's that?" he asks as he looks down at my chest.
My pendant is glowing. What?! Absolute worst timing, EVER!
"I…I have a case," I stammer, wishing his mouth was still against mine.
"Oh." He pulls away to get a better look at the necklace and the light that pulsates from it. "Can I touch it?" he asks softly.
"Of course, it won't hurt you," I answer with a laugh.
He fingers the glass delicately, rolling it around in his palm. "How does it do that?"
"I honestly have no idea. The first time it went off I thought I was on fire," I answer with a smile.
"Can you turn it off?"
"No, I can't. As soon as I return it, it will just shut off on its own."
"Like magic," he says softly.
"Yeah, like magic."
"So you have to go now, on a case?" His eyes devour mine as he waits for my answer.
"Yes."
"That's rotten timing," he says with a laugh.
"I was just thinking that," I giggle, "Come on, I'll show you what to do next."
He pushes off the wall reluctantly, allowing me to squeeze by him. Our thighs brush against each other and the soft denim of his worn jeans against my exposed skin catches my breath. The room seems to shrink around me as one of his hands slides down my arm until our palms meet. He casually interlocks our fingers, firmly securing himself to me as we leave the Depot room. I can't believe this. I'm holding hands with Sloan Nash.
***
It's not until we enter the busy main room again and see Niles talking to Carlson that Sloan gradually releases my hand. I miss the contact immediately, but don't have long to dwell on it before Carlson shoots an unfriendly look in our direction and scurries over to us, of course with his ever-present clipboard held tightly to his chest.
"Sloan. I've been looking all over for you, but I see you weren't alone," Carlson glares at me then blinks in confusion when I smile sweetly back.
"Piper showed me the Depot room, Carlson. Don't worry, I was in good hands." He elbows me just discreetly enough for me to feel, but Carlson doesn't seem to notice and I struggle to hold the laugh in.
"Well, good, good. I guess. So, you are leaving on Assignment now, I see?" Carlson gestures to my lit necklace with a more relaxed expression. No doubt glad that I'm leaving, I'm sure.
"Mmhmm. Was just going to show Sloan how it works," I reply.
"Ahh, well, there's no need for that. I'll take over now," Carlson say's snidely. He points at Sloan and I look over to see his own necklace aglow.
"Sloan - look," I say quietly.
"Oh, wow." Sloan looks down at the crystal glass piece with wonder that quickly turns to panic. "Crap, now what? What if I'm not ready?"
"We'll go together, at the same time. There are two doors…we can do that, can't we Niles?" I aim the question at him as he walks up beside me.
"It's done all the time," he says.
"Okay, let's go get your first assignment card, Sloan."
His hand slips back into mine as we make our way across the room and I can't help my face-splitting grin because Carlson and Niles are behind us. Surely they must have noticed. Not to mention, there are at least one hundred other people milling around this room and now they've seen it too. Me and Sloan; how'd this happen, exactly?
CHAPTER 7
We stand two feet apart, gazing up with awe at the glistening glass cards that fill the wall from top to bottom. With various hues of grey and black, the wall looks like a dark mural waiting for someone to climb it. I've been tempted to do just that before, remembering the first time I saw this room; I thought the glass cards stuck out like the holds of a giant rock climbing wall.
"This is it. Just pick a slot," I say softly to Sloan.
He steps forward and carefully slides his glass card into an open space just above his head and then steps back, watching me do the same, choosing the same slot I've used since my first case. It was also Niles' first slot. It gives me comfort to use it and somehow I've been lucky enough on all three of my cases to find it available.
When I'm done, we wait for the doors to open and the swish sound makes Sloan jump slightly. Smiling over at him, I'm aware of the jumbled feelings he must have in his mind, for I had them too not that long ago.
"Ready?" I ask.
Sloan laughs before smirking at me, "No, not really. You in a hurry to get rid of me?"
"No, not really," I copy his answer as I walk him toward his open door. The room is dark, which isn't inviting for someone's first time.
"So, I just stand in there?"
"Yep. And remember what I said, you'll feel some sort of sensation spread through your body as the transition happens."
Just before he crosses the threshold into the closet-sized room he spins and wraps his arms around my body, holding me tightly to his chest. I hug him
back, inhaling the fresh smell of him, enjoying the warm feel of his body as it penetrates my clothes, and when he pulls away I sway toward him.
"See ya when I get back," he says with a wink.
"Can't wait," I respond, nearly out of breath. Please kiss me goodbye, please.
His hands slowly slide down my bare arms, stopping at my wrists. For a moment we just stand there, looking at each other, and it's not until I make a move to turn away that he leans in and brushes his lips softly against mine. Wow.
"Good luck," he whispers before turning and walking into his room.
"You too," I whisper back.
As he disappears into the darkness, the door swishes closed, swallowing him whole. It's like losing him all over again. Even though I know the feeling is ridiculous because this time I'm going to see him again. Knowing that puts a smile on my face as I go into my own dark hole. I'm almost able to block out the pinching when it starts. Almost. Crap, I will never get used to this, will I?
***
When my tunnel vision has cleared, a beautiful sky filled with puffy white clouds filters through a pine tree canopy above me. The angle is confusing at first, as if I'm in a kaleidoscope with the world tilting and turning around me slowly. And then it comes to a stop long enough for me to get my bearings and realize my assignment is spinning on a tire swing. I can see we are in some sort of wooded area, but nothing about our surroundings is familiar. Wherever we are, the weather is perfect, that I know for sure.
The girl whose mind I inhabit wears a flowy sundress with a tiny floral pattern, along with a pair of canvas slip-on shoes. And she has long hair; so long that the breeze keeps blowing it across her face with each revolution on the tire swing, showing off the shine from the wavy, straw-colored hair. Her limbs are slender, her knees a little knobby, but she has lovely hands. These I can see every time she looks up the swing chain to glance at the sky.
"I thought I might find you here," says a low male voice from behind us.
We stop spinning and she turns to glance over her shoulder, greeting the boy that stands in the grass with an almost dismissive wave of her hand.
"Mmm." It's more of a sound than a word, but she straightens herself up long enough for me to get a level view of what's around us. And it's a glorious view. Pine trees dot the horizon as far as I can see, with large patches of meticulously groomed grass the color of fresh lime in the distance, filling in the gaps along the ground with a wavy pattern. A golf course? At first I think we are in a park of some sort, obviously at high elevation. But the boy says something that brings the feeling of 'home' into my Assignment's head.
"I knocked on the door, but no one answered, so I figured you'd be out here somewhere," he says as he sits down on a low rock wall about ten feet away. He's wearing dark-washed jeans and an open plaid shirt, showing off the bright-white of his t-shirt underneath. He appears to be about my age, but his voice is low and very manly. "Aren't you going to talk to me?"
She glances over at him long enough for me to see that his eyes are a dark brown, matching the color of his short hair. His face is a handsome one for his young age, but something heavy hides behind his gaze. It makes him seem mature and…dark.
"Talk? We already did that, remember?" She sighs into the mountain air and spins again on the swing, leaning back until her body is horizontal. Her hair drags along the ground, moving pieces of dried up pine needles and dead leaves.
"Jess, you know what I mean. We need to talk about it; about what you said."
Jess. Nice to meet you, Jess.
She sits up then and stares hard at him. I can feel emotions building up from inside of her, jumbled together into a messy ball that seems to endlessly bounce from one side of her brain to the other. I can't catch hold of that ball for the life of me.
"It's my body. That's what I said. You are obviously using your body the way you want. I can't do the same?" Her words cut through the peaceful quiet with enough force to silence the birds high above us.
The boy frowns before standing and crossing his arms at his chest. "If you do this, it's murder. And I'll tell your parents," he says. His tone is sharp; his brown eyes darkening like charred wood.
She moves slowly and deliberately off the swing, straightening her dress with one gentle tug and closes the space between them in a few strides. She seems about six inches shorter than he is and maybe one third his weight. Up closer I can clearly see the defined muscles of his arms and chest beneath his clothes. He's obviously a high school jock of some kind. I don't like him. With a sudden shove of her hand, she pushes him backwards hard enough for him to flail for balance. When he regains it, the anger in his eyes is palpable.
"What the hell did you do that for?" he snarls.
"If you had kept it in your pants while we were together, you'd have a say in this. But you didn't, you had to sample half of Flagstaff, and then I got a piece of your cheating ass growing inside me. And I won't keep it, I won't keep a part of you anywhere near me, Chris," she says.
Flagstaff? As in…Arizona? And wait…oh. She's pregnant?
"But you can't do this, Jess!" he wails.
"It's already been done, Chris."
Or, she was pregnant.
He inhales sharply before speaking, "You didn't. You wouldn't do that to me."
She spins away from him and snaps, "Like I said - it's already been done. Why do you think I avoided you all week?" I can't see him anymore, but I feel his hand on her skin as he yanks her backwards, pulling on her arm hard enough to hurt, pulling until her back slams against his chest.
With his arm now around her throat and his other hand fisted in her hair, he growls into her ear, "Stupid whore. You'll regret this, just watch."
"Let go!" she screams.
This has gone from a pleasant swing ride to an abusive ex-boyfriend so fast that I'm not sure how to respond at first. But then my instincts and my training kick in.
Use your nails, use your elbows, use your feet…use whatever you can to get away from him!
She forces an elbow into his side, causing him to lose his breath and also loosen his grip on her hair, but he still has his arm around her neck.
Nails; scratch his face!
Seconds later a scream pierces through the forest around us and he finally let's go of Jess. Stumbling backwards with his hands covering his bloody face, he trips on the wall he was just recently sitting on, toppling over it backwards. Jess is panting and has one of her slender hands at her neck where the boy was holding onto her. No doubt she'll have a bruise there tomorrow. The bastard!
Woohoo, girl! You did it! Now let's get the heck out of here before he gets up!
But he's not moving on the other side of the wall, or cursing, as I was expecting. And Jess notices this too. She takes a tentative step toward the place he went over against my better judgment.
I mean, come on, Jess! Have you not seen even ONE scary movie? He's going to pop up at any second, so the further away you get, the less likely he will KILL you!
I'm holding my breath as best as I can considering I can't really breathe while I'm inside Jess's mind, and I know she's not breathing either as she places her dusky-pink manicured hands on the top of the wall and peeks over the side.
The boy is lying awkwardly on his back, with his feet resting straight up against the layered rock wall. His arms are extended away from him like he's about to do a snow angel in the grass and he's staring, unblinking, up at the sky. One of his eyes is badly scratched and bleeding, but it's not the small amount of blood on his face that has me wanting to puke out my stomach lining; it's his neck. It's bent in such a way that his head is awkwardly parallel with his right shoulder.
Oh, sweet Jesus. We just killed a man.
***
In all honesty, I'm not sure who screams louder…me or Jess. She runs from the tree line toward a house that looks like it was plucked out of a glossy magazine featuring cabin mansions inside. I can't tell her to slow down, because I'm still in shock over what
has happened, and the fact that she is rushing toward the rear entrance of a home that looks like it has not just one, but three large wings. When her feet hit the deck stairs, I finally use my voice in an attempt to calm us both.
Okay Jess, listen to me now. It's okay. Let's just take a moment to calm down.
The stained deck is large enough to use as a decent sized dance floor, yet she flies across it in seconds, slamming into the back door in a blubbering mess. With her forehead and palms pressed flat against the glass, her body shakes with emotion until her knees buckle.
On the floor, and now thoroughly freaked out, she begins weeping loudly. All sounds of the forest have died down, so it seems as if her cry echoes over the mountain, without interruption. When the back door slides open, it startles us both. Standing in a sleek pencil skirt and matching jacket is a svelte woman in her forties, with her hair pulled back in a tight bun and impeccably done makeup that highlights her green eyes.
"What on earth is going on?" she asks Jess, with a hand placed up high on her curvy hip. I know the moment Jess peers up at her, that this woman is her mother. Jess tries to talk, but all that comes out is a slew of syllables all strung together in a blubbery mess. Her mother waves her hand in the air impatiently, urging Jess to speak clearly.
Lady, you have no idea what's just happened. I dislike her immediately.
"Jessica, seriously. How am I possibly going to understand you, if you don't use words? Are you hurt?" Her terse voice comes across as irritated and cold. Well, obviously we have mommy issues here. Jess shakes her head vigorously, still unable to speak, but she does point out into the trees where we just came from.
"What?" A look of concern crosses her mother's face temporarily and I think she just might get it. Yes Mommy Dearest, something awful has happened to your daughter. Yank that stick out of your butt and help her. What she does instead shouldn't surprise me, not after what I've seen and experienced already as a volunteer, but I'm shocked regardless.
"Oh good Lord, Jessica. I don't have time for your games. I just got home from work, and Isabel doesn't have supper ready, if you can believe that. Pick yourself up off the floor and come inside before you let the cool air out…" her voice trails off as she walks away into the bowels of the massive home.
Dying to Remember (The Station #2) Page 6