by Rosie Somers
He’s planning to get my drink for me? “Blonde roast. Two creams, two sugars,” I tell him, and watch as he digests this new information. I have a sneaking suspicion he’s committing it to memory and that the next time he meets me on the way to school with coffee, it’s going to be exactly how I like it.
When Will heads for the counter, I take the chair in the corner for maximum awareness of my surroundings. I select my chair more out of habit than anything else. Being able to see everything going on around me isn’t vital to my success and survival anymore. But old habits die hard, and the good ones die hardest. My friends and Will arrive and claim chairs after just a few minutes.
Will hands me my cup before claiming the chair next to mine. “So you guys are all in photography club together?”
“Yep, are you into photography?” Lacey asks. “You should stop by and check it out sometime.”
Will smiles politely and shakes his head. “Nah, I’m not really good with the visual arts stuff. I’m more the music type.”
Trin perks up. “Do you play any instruments?”
“A few,” he answers and ducks his head modestly.
His admission comes as a surprise to me. All this time we’ve been spending together and he’s never mentioned he’s into music or that he plays instruments. I can’t play an instrument to save my life, and I’m about as tone deaf as they come. So the fact that he can play multiple instruments is fascinating to me. “Which ones? Do you write any songs or anything?”
“Guitar, piano, and saxophone. I do sometimes write songs, but I don’t, like, play them for anyone or anything.”
Suddenly I’m itching to be the person he does play for. “Maybe I could hear them sometime?”
“Yeah, maybe.” He blushes in the most adorable way and drops his gaze to his lap. I’ve embarrassed him. “If you’ll show me some of your photography.”
Now it’s my turn to blush. “Oh, it’s not very good. I’m just learning the ropes.”
“Learning the ropes? She’s a natural. Her shadows photo was amazing.” Then to me she says, “Show him, Mari.”
All three of them watch me with matching expressions of expectation. I cave easily, sliding the picture I chose to show at club today out of my bag and setting it on the table in the middle of our chair circle. The picture actually has Will’s shadow in it, too. I want to watch his reaction, but I also don’t want to. The reclusive side of me wins out, and I direct my attention out the window while Trin and Lacey ooh and aah over the picture and Will agrees.
I’m not really looking at anyone or anything in particular outside the window, just staring into space. Until something catches my eye across the street and partway down the block. A man in a thick gray puffy coat and dark hat and sunglasses rests on a bench reading a newspaper. Or at least pretending to read the paper. His head is turned at too awkward of an angle to be directing his attention down in front of him. In fact, it’s almost like he’s looking this way. At me.
My suspicion is driven home when he’s quick to turn his head straight and go back to his paper. And I’m suddenly on high alert. I watch him carefully, looking him over from head to toe for any hint of who he might be or why he’s watching me. Nothing about him is familiar. Except his coat. It’s remarkably like the one the man who followed me on Valentine’s Day was wearing. Could this be the same guy? How long has he been tailing me and I haven’t noticed?
I try to maintain my composure, but inside I’m having a full-on nuclear meltdown. I had pretty much convinced myself that Valentine’s Day was a fluke, just some Joe Rando heading the same direction I was. I told myself I was paranoid, that all the stress of running from Petrov had melted some synapses in my brain or something.
But maybe I’m not paranoid. Maybe I’m right. Maybe I’m in danger.
I stand so quickly my chair slides into the wall behind it from the force. Trin, Lacey, and Will all startle and turn to gape at me in unison.
Excuse. I need a good story so they don’t think I’ve totally lost it. “I, uh…forgot I was supposed to be home right after school. I had plans…with my mom.” I gather my stuff and refuse to make eye contact with anyone as I lie to them, and I’m almost to the door by the time I finish speaking. I don’t wait for anyone to respond. “See ya later,” I call as I shoot out the door and jog away from the shop.
I doubt they bought my story, but I have more important things to worry about right now. Like losing my tail and getting home safely. Part of me wants desperately to stay with my friends. After all, there’s supposed to be safety in numbers. But if I stay, I won’t be able to lose this tail without my friends figuring out we’re being followed—which is a can of worms I’m not prepared to open right now. Or ever. And I certainly can’t let this guy follow me—or any of us—home. I have only one option left: get him to follow me a safe distance away from my friends and then lose him. And pray like mad that they leave the coffee shop before he has a chance to double back for them.
I race for the street corner and make it just as the light changes. I breathe a sigh of relief at my fortunate timing and head out into the crosswalk with the handful of other pedestrians, but I quickly leave them in my dust as I race toward the potential safety of the alcoved doorway of the apartment building several yards ahead. I slow my pace as I approach and nod to the doorman like I belong there before entering the lobby. As soon as the door shuts behind me, I press myself flat behind a nearby marble-tiled column and wait.
The door swooshes open and heavy footsteps track inside. I’m certain it’s my mystery pursuer.
The twentysomething guy behind the concierge desk eyeballs me, and for a moment I think he might be about to give me away. Taking care to keep my movements slow and silent, I raise a finger to my lips and plead with my eyes for him to keep my secret. Something in my expression must get through to him because he nods almost imperceptibly and looks away from me in the direction where I assume the other guy is. “May I help you, sir?”
“Yes, I’m apartment 4A. Do you have a package for me?” The voice that responds is smooth and friendly. A resident.
“No packages today, sir.” To his credit, the guy behind the counter doesn’t do anything to let on that I’m there, but the footsteps plod a few paces forward and pause just on the other side of the pillar I’m hiding behind.
“I guess I’ll check back tomorrow. Thanks.” The man passes the place where I’m hiding to head to the elevator. He’s dressed in a sharp charcoal suit with rich leather loafers and carrying a matching briefcase. No puffy coat, no hat and sunglasses.
I shimmy around to the next side of the column, and I begin taking carefully placed steps backward toward the exit.
When I get to the door, the doorman sees me through the glass and opens it for me. I slip through and make a slow perusal of the surrounding area. I don’t see the strange guy anywhere. I take off at a brisk jog toward home, looking over my shoulder every few steps, but my tail never reappears.
I’m out of breath when I get home, and the elevator ride to my floor does nothing to help me calm down. I’m still a little panicked when I get into my apartment, and my mom notices as I pass the living room. “Mija, what’s wrong?”
I veer into the room where she and Uncle Samuel are watching the news. Well, she’s watching the news; my uncle is lips deep in a beer and reading something on his phone. He’s supposed to be drying out; that’s usually the rule when he comes to stay with us.
“I think someone was following me.” Correction, I know someone was following me, but I can’t prove it.
My mother is off the couch and across the room to me in record time. “Are you sure? Did you recognize him? Did he follow you here?”
“No.” I use the one word to answer all her questions.
“No?”
“I didn’t recognize him, and I lost him before I came home.”
“Come. Sit. Tell me what happened, Marisol.” She wraps an arm around me and leads me over to sit on the couch.
I obey, telling her and my half-interested uncle about the guy who might have been following me on the way to my date, and then relaying the details from this afternoon. When I finish, she asks, “But you don’t know if it was the same man?”
I shake my head.
“Sounds like you’re letting your worries get the better of you,” my uncle announces. My mother’s look is skeptical, but she doesn’t argue.
“I guess maybe,” I say. I’m starting to feel a little crazy now. “I’m gonna go rest, I think. Maybe I’ll feel better after I calm down.” I won’t, but I say it to placate my mother and uncle. The anxiety, the fear that this guy might really be after me, is a permanent thought in my brain now. A nap isn’t going to make it go away.
Chapter Fourteen
A knock on my bedroom door pulls my attention away from my window and the street below. I’ve been parked on my window seat for at least an hour, just people gazing. Or at least that’s what I tell myself. In truth, I can’t shake the feeling that if I look hard enough and long enough, I might spot that guy down there. I’m being silly, I know. Even if he was following me, he didn’t follow me home and probably doesn’t know where I live.
When I look up, my uncle is standing in my doorway—empty-handed. He must be about to make a beer run, I think, then mentally kick myself for my bitterness. It’s not his fault any of this has happened.
“Marisol, you cannot sit here sulking all day.” His voice is crisp and clear, his words not at all slurred.
“I’m not sulking,” I say sulkily.
“Worrying, then,” he corrects. “If you are that worried about what might be outside your door, then let’s prepare you.”
“What do you mean?” I’m pretty sure I know where he’s going with this, but I want him to clarify anyway.
“Let’s dust off your martial arts training. I’m sure you’re rusty after all this time. Come on.” He turns and heads down the hall like he expects me to run along after him.
He’s probably right, though. It’s been years since I took classes, and I’ve never had to apply my learned skills in real life. I wait only a minute before following him down the hall, but when I get to the living room, he’s already pushed the furniture away from the center of the room, leaving the area rug as a makeshift sparring mat.
“Oh, you’re in trouble when my mom sees this!” I tease.
“When Mom sees what?” As if conjured by my words, my mother steps into the room and looks around. Her expression is neutral, but she breathes an exasperated sigh. “I’m going grocery shopping. This will be cleaned up before I get back, sí?”
My uncle and I both nod in unison, like chastised children.
“Bueno,” she says and comes over to kiss me on the forehead. “I’ll be back soon. Love you.”
“Love you, too,” I call after her as she heads to the door.
“Now, I’m going to try to attack you,” he tells me as soon as she’s gone, and takes up position at one end of the rug, “and you’re going to fight me off.”
I take up a defensive stance at the other end. I’m barely in place before Uncle Samuel comes at me.
The first time, he catches me unprepared and takes me down easily. The second time, I’m not quite such easy pickings. By the fifth time, I’ve got a good system down, and it’s Uncle Samuel who ends up facedown on the mat with his arm tucked behind his back and my knee in his spine.
The doorbell rings before he can make a sixth attempt.
“I think you could use a break anyway,” he says, but it’s most likely an attempt to save face. He’s the one who’s out of breath and getting worse with each new round.
“You might be right.” I give him the out and go to answer the door. Will’s standing on the other side when I open it.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey,” I return. “What are you doing here?”
He holds up my shadow picture from photography club. “You forgot this yesterday. I thought it might be important to you and I should bring it over instead of waiting till Monday to give it to you.”
“Marisol, who is your friend? Invite him in!” My uncle comes up behind me and pulls the door fully open. Then, to Will, he says, “Come in, come in. Do you know Mari from school?”
“Yes, sir,” Will answers, and lets my uncle lead him into the living room.
“I was just giving my niece some self-defense lessons. Would you like to join us?” He motions wide around the room as if inviting Will into a much fancier sparring space than my living room with all the furniture pushed out of the way.
“Sure, I took a few years of jiujitsu when I was younger. Maybe I can teach her a few things.” Will takes it all in stride, as if it’s not totally weird to be holding impromptu martial arts matches in the middle of the living room on a Saturday afternoon. He pulls out of his dark sweatshirt and slips his feet out of his sneakers.
“Yes, yes. You probably can. This old man will get out of your way and let you kids get to work.” Uncle Samuel practically skips from the room, and I’m not sure if it’s because he’s glad for the reprieve for his bruised ego or if he’s trying to play matchmaker. Probably a little of both.
“So, what has he taught you so far?” Will asks once we’re alone.
I bite back a laugh. “Actually, he wasn’t teaching me anything, so much as he was losing to me. My mom put me in Krav Maga when I was younger. It’s just been a while since I’ve practiced or whatever.” I close with a shrug and try to shut out the memory of my first class. My mom forced me into it the week following my dad’s death. I know she was trying to protect me, knew it even then, but I was still just trying to mourn and heal.
“Ah, gotcha. So do you want to do it with me?” he asks. And then is quick to add, “Practice, I mean.”
“Sure.” I follow him onto the ersatz sparring mat.
Will is a much tougher opponent than my uncle, I find out almost immediately. He comes at me, and when I move to block him, he grabs my wrist and spins me around, pulls me back hard against him. His arms are wrapped tight around me, pinning mine to my sides, and even though I struggle, I can’t get loose. Maybe I could if I really wanted to, but I don’t want to hurt him. And there’s something really nice about being wrapped in Will’s arms.
Eventually, he releases me and moves into an attack stance once again. I try to prepare better this time, and now, when he spins me and pulls me to him, I manage to get my leg behind his and buckle his knee. He falls to the ground, but his hold on me takes me down with him, and he uses his strength to leverage himself on top of me on the way down. When we land, he’s stretched over me, pressed against me from neck to chest to thigh.
He doesn’t make any effort to get up, and I don’t make any effort to move out from under him.
“Are you letting me win?” he whispers against my lips.
“And why would I do that?” The thought did occur to me.
“I can think of at least one good reason.” As soon as the words leave him, he presses his lips against mine. This kiss is nothing like our first. Where that one was tentative and exploring, this one is hard and fast and smoldering. He slips his tongue past my lips, and the feel of him becomes permanently seared into my brain. I lose track of everything around us; nothing exists except us, his warmth enveloping me, his lips on my lips.
Maybe I moan; maybe I shiver. I’m barely aware of my own reactions to him, but I definitely wrap my arms around him and pull him closer to me. And he leans into it, matching my movement by resting his weight on his elbows and tangling his hands in my hair.
My mother’s key clicking in the lock echoes like gunfire in my brain, startling me out of the fantasy world our kiss has created, and I scramble out from under Will, even as he pushes to a kneeling position. By the time she comes in the front door, arms full of grocery bags, we’re a safe distance away from each other, and I only have to worry about hiding how out of breath I still am.
“Hola, Mari. Your friend is here?
” Her look is pure surprise, and she glances from me to Will and back again like she’s trying to figure us out. Will’s hair is a little mussed, and his cheeks are flushed, but I don’t think there’s anything that would make us look guilty of making out on the living room floor.
“Yeah, he came by to drop something off that I forgot after school yesterday, and Uncle Samuel invited him to stay to spar.” It’s the truth, but she doesn’t look convinced.
“I should probably go.” Will stands and grabs his sweatshirt, then slips his feet back into his shoes. “I’ll see you Monday, flower.” He winks at me, and even though he has his back to her, I feel like my mom is perfectly aware of what he’s trying to convey by it.
Heat rises in my face, and I fight back the goofy grin threatening to escape. “Okay, see ya.”
Will leaves, shutting the door behind him, and my mother heads for the kitchen, but not before giving me her best I-know-something-happened look.
And boy did it.
Chapter Fifteen
Monday can’t come soon enough. I’m excited to meet up with Will, have been thinking about the next time I would see him since he left my apartment Saturday evening. I wake early without the use of my alarm, and I’m out the door a full ten minutes before I normally would be.
The elevator door slides open with a soft ding, and I’m about to step on when I realize I forgot my chem homework. I slip back inside the front door and head for my bedroom to grab it, with homework tucked neatly between the pages of chapter twelve, from my desk. I’m almost to my room when one of my dresser drawers slams shut.
Uncle Samuel?
I pick up the pace and speed around the doorway, stopping just across the threshold. Uncle Samuel has moved on from my dresser and is now going through the top drawer of my nightstand.
“What are you doing?” My voice is harsher than I meant it to sound, but I set my hands on my hips and own it.
Uncle Samuel lurches upright and slams the drawer. When he turns to face me, his expression is one of innocent confusion and for a brief moment, I think he might try to play dumb. But there’s really no way to play off the fact that I’ve just caught him rifling through my stuff, and he must realize it because his shoulders sag in defeat before he says, “I was looking for something.”