Fallen (The Guardian Series Book 2)

by A. J. Messenger

  “Wasn’t Mrs. Denuzio senile?” asks Finn.

  “No,” I say. “Well … maybe a little. But that’s not the point.”

  “She can’t teach me,” says Finn. “She’s dead.”

  “I know that,” I say. “But I could be your Mrs. Denuzio.”

  “A senile teacher?”

  “No,” I say, shaking my head, “a teacher who’s calm, with no stress. We just need to find somewhere quiet and peaceful where you can practice and we’ll just take it little by little from there.”

  Finn nods. “I thought about asking Liz but I decided it’s not a good idea.”

  I chuckle. He’s right about that, if they want their relationship to survive. Liz can get ‘overly excited’ I guess is how I’d put it. “How are things going with you two?”

  “That’s another problem.”

  “Why?” My heart sinks.

  “I bought her a gift last month.”

  “For what?”

  “Our seven-month anniversary.”

  “Why seven?”

  “I don’t know. She kept mentioning it.”

  “Because seven’s her favorite number?”

  “Oh … maybe that’s it …” he says. “I don’t really know, except she kept saying our seven-month anniversary is coming up and I figured out eventually that she was trying to tell me something. She said six-month anniversaries are for chumps.”

  I laugh. “And that’s a problem?”

  “No. But I hid it at her house so if I forget the day of our anniversary it’ll be there and I can still give her a present, on time.”

  “You hid it? At her house?”

  He nods. “Then I worried she might find it, so I hid it again. And then I did that a few more times.”

  “And she found it?”

  “No,” he says. “I forgot where I hid it.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “Seriously?”

  Finn looks pained and I immediately wipe the smile off my face. Oh Finn, only you could remember every word from an arcane scientific article you read three years ago and not remember where you hid your girlfriend’s anniversary present. “We’ll find it, Finn,” I reassure him with my hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry.”

  “Maybe I should get her something else. Just in case.”

  “Did you get her an actual present? Or a card with money in it?”

  “A card is a present.”

  “You’re right. I shouldn’t have said that. So you got her a card?”

  “She tried on a silver ring when we were at the artist’s fair downtown and I bought it when she went to the bathroom,” he says. “I remembered what you said about paying attention to things she likes.”

  Finn’s earnest sweetness always gets me. He works so hard to do the right thing. “You’re a good man, Finn,” I say as I meet his eyes. “We’ll go to her house next time she’s at work and tear the place apart until we find it. Okay?”

  “Okay. But we can’t tear it apart.”

  “Figure of speech,” I say with a smile.

  “I know,” he says as we stand up to get back on our bikes. “At least, I was pretty sure.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Do you feel ready?” I ask Alexander.

  “Ready for what?” he replies. He’s driving me to my shift at Fields and Morris.

  “Ready for you and me to … you know.”

  He smiles and looks over at me with a raised eyebrow. “I know?”

  “C’mon, you know what I mean. Are you ready for us to sleep together?”

  “We have slept together. Many times. I love waking up next to you. I even love the way you snore.” He smiles and his green eyes crinkle so irresistibly that I almost don’t want to smack him.

  “I don’t snore,” I insist. On occasion we’ve spent the night together at his house or mine but I’m certain I would have known if I was snoring.

  “It’s cute,” he says. “You’re like a little koala bear … with a cold.”

  I look at him. “Well you’re like a grizzly bear … with a fever.”

  “And here I was thinking you liked spooning with me,” he says, feigning offense.

  “I do,” I admit. “You keep me warm.”

  “Well, you don’t snore,” he concedes, “but you do hog the bed linens. And I don’t know how you do it, but you even manage to yank off the pillow slips sometimes. Are you doing aikido in your dreams?”

  The smile I was holding back breaks through. “Well you hog the bed,” I say. “And you’re getting me off track. You know what I’m asking.”

  “I do know what you’re asking. But this is important. No bland euphemisms. It’s not sleeping together, it’s something else.”

  I look at him. “Okay, are you ready to have sex with me? Is that what you want to hear?”

  “It’s not just sex,” he says, shaking his head. “At least it won’t be with us. It’s more than that.”

  “What do you want then? I feel like you’re holding back, for some reason that you haven’t told me.”

  “I thought we agreed to wait.”

  “We did,” I say. “But I don’t want to wait anymore.”

  He meets my eyes and I can literally feel the electric undercurrent between us, filling the space in the car. He pulls over to the side of the road and shuts off the engine.

  “What are you doing? We’re going to do it now?”

  He bursts out laughing. “On the side of the road? Are you off your nut?”

  “Well, what are you pulling over for?”

  “Do you think I’m a bloody animal? I’m pulling over because this is a conversation that requires my full attention.” He shakes his head with a mixture of bewilderment and amusement and takes my hands, still laughing.

  I can’t help but laugh too. “Well?” I ask. “What do you think about what I said?”

  “I think I’m not sure where this is coming from. What do you really want to know?”

  I take a breath and meet his eyes. “Is your strength the only reason you’ve been holding back?”

  He looks down for a moment. “It was at first … but I have that nearly sorted. I’ve been avoiding it for a different reason.”

  My heart is in my throat. “Because,” I swallow, “you’re not attracted to me anymore?”

  “What? Declan … oh, babe, did you really think that?”

  “I thought maybe you were having second thoughts,” I say softly, “about being with a mortal.”

  He shakes his head. “I’m sorry I haven’t put my side of it across. If anything I’m too attracted to you.”

  “Really?”

  “If you only knew,” he says, searching my eyes.

  I swallow the lump in my throat. “I’m afraid that it won’t be as good,” I say quietly, “or as satisfying … with a mortal, or sprite, or whatever I am. Because you have to hold back. And on top of that, I’m not experienced.”

  He squeezes my hands. “That’s what you’re worried about? Think about how we feel when we’re together. The way we feel when we kiss. It’s going to be so good for us—better than we could ever imagine.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I do,” he says. “Sex isn’t about gymnastics. It’s about trust. And communication. Like this conversation we’re having right now. It’s about being vulnerable together and giving as well as receiving. And when you love each other, it takes it to a higher level.”

  “So why are you holding back then?”

  “You’re going to laugh,” he says wryly.

  “Why?”

  “Because I have a plan.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “It’s a plan I’m pretty sure you’ll like,” he adds with a smile.

  “You always have a plan,” I say. “For everything. But, you know, sometimes you have to share those plans …”

  “Or what?”

  “Or people get suspicious,” I say, looking up into his eyes.

  “People?”

  �
��Okay, me.”

  He smiles. “All you have to do is ask.”

  “I thought that’s what I was doing, but you’ve got me going in circles.”

  He takes a deep breath. “Did you know that the English language has more words than any other?”

  “What?”

  “It means we can be precise because we have so many words to choose from to convey exact meaning. But it also means there are loads of words and terms for everything. And when we’re talking about something as important as what we’re talking about, I just want to get it right, so we both know how much it means.”

  I nod, still not quite understanding as he looks deep into my eyes.

  “Making love. I want to make love to you, Declan. It may sound old-fashioned but out of all the messed-up ways people use to describe sex, it’s the best I know. I want to connect with you and share that with you and make you feel intensely good and show you how much I love you. Does that make sense?”

  I smile and my eyes well up. “Yes,” I whisper.

  “Is that what you want, too?”

  The earnest look in his eyes goes straight to my heart and softens all my insecure, vulnerable edges. I nod and smile. “Yes.”

  He squeezes my hands in his and looks at me so lovingly my heart aches in my chest. “To be able to connect with you in that way,” he says, “like our first kiss. That’s why I’ve been holding back. I have a plan that I’ve been working on and as much as I’ve wanted to chuck it to the wind many, many times, including right here, right now, on the side of the road,” he mimics tossing something out the car window and we both laugh. “I want to make it especially memorable. We only get one first time together and you know how I feel about a right time and place for things. We’re going to remember this for eternity.”

  I smile.

  “Can you hold on a little while longer?” he asks.

  “I think I can control myself,” I say dryly.

  He laughs and kisses me. “I love you,” he says with a smile.

  “Me, too,” I say. “So there’s no other reason?”

  He shakes his head. “The only thing between you and me and hot sex right now is my plan.”

  I laugh and push his arm. “Oh, so now it’s hot sex? I thought it was ‘making love?’”

  “Now that you understand how much it means to me, you can talk about hot sex all you want. In fact, please do.” His smile and the glint in his eyes make me laugh.

  “The anticipation makes it sweeter,” he adds.

  “I remember.” I think back to our first kiss and how it felt to finally have his lips on mine.

  He smiles and gives me one last soft kiss. “Is that everything you wanted to talk about?”

  I nod and smile in a happy daze until he restarts the car and I notice the clock on his dashboard. “Ah shoot, now I’m late for work.”

  Alexander glances over at me. “I think we can both agree that this conversation was well worth it.”

  We smile and chuckle as he pulls back onto the road.

  “If your boss is cross,” he adds, “let me know if you want me to come in and tell him it was my fault for ravaging you like an animal on the side of the road.”

  I push his arm and we both laugh. And for the rest of the drive, every time we glance over at each other, we smile and laugh again.

  God, I love Alexander.

  Chapter Ten

  “I need some of whatever you’re on,” Justin says as we’re busy scanning documents.

  I look up from the file I was logging in. “What?”

  “You look so happy,” he says. “It can’t just be that we got the room with the window today.”

  “No,” I say airily as I pull another document from the file box in front of me.

  “Then what is it?”

  I shrug my shoulders and sigh. I can’t seem to wipe the silly, swoony grin off my face after my conversation with Alexander earlier. “I just have a great boyfriend,” I say finally, sounding like a lovesick fool, I’m sure.

  “Did he propose or something?”

  “No,” I trill, “he’s just sweet.”

  Justin shakes his head and smiles. “Girls,” he mutters to himself as he feeds another document into the scanner. “So what do you want to talk about today?” he asks after a short stretch of silence. “Besides your sweet boyfriend.”

  “Very funny.” I toss my empty water bottle at his head.

  He holds up his hand and bats it away. “I’m just kidding. I’m sure he’s a nice guy,” he says. “I hope he deserves you,” he adds after a beat.

  I look up. “Awww,” I say dramatically, “did you just say something nice about me? I better log this in the file.” I pretend to type on my keyboard. “Day 19, Justin compliments Declan for first time.”

  He laughs. “I’ve complimented you plenty. I already told you I bribed Nora with chocolate just to get us assigned together.”

  “You never said you used chocolate, you just said you were nice to her.”

  He smiles. “I’m nice to her and I gave her chocolate, which is also nice.”

  “That’s true,” I say.

  “Actually,” he says, his voice trailing off, “maybe not. Remember when we were talking the other day about my philosophy class? I would, of course, always be nice to Nora—she’s a nice lady—but I probably wouldn’t have given her chocolate unless I wanted something.”

  Justin is a year ahead of me in school, also attending UCSM, and during the last shift we worked together we talked about the classes he took last year, one of which, his favorite, was Philosophy. “So you’re saying your intent wasn’t nice?”

  “I don’t know. Does the fact that I wanted something in return make it not nice or not pure?”

  “Did you hold the chocolate hostage until she gave you what you wanted?”

  “I didn’t send a ransom note if that’s what you’re asking,” he laughs. “I surprised her with her favorite chocolate muffins and then I asked if she wouldn’t mind changing the project sheets, knowing she’d be more likely to want to help me.”

  I nod and tilt my head as I consider how to respond. “You took the time to find out that she liked chocolate muffins and then you requested something that was easy for her to do and harmless. That sounds like a prime example of how the birth of civilization and cooperation got started.”

  “You’re right. It was smart,” he says. “No more Chris and his Spicy Monkey burritos.”

  I laugh.

  We both take a moment to type in some keywords to log a document and then we grab another paper from our file boxes. “Why was Philosophy your favorite class?” I ask.

  “I liked the teacher, Professor Blakely, and I liked how the concepts made us think. He posed a lot of questions that were hard to answer.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, take utilitarianism, which is about ensuring the greatest good for the greatest number. It sounds good, but he’d give us these scenarios and it seemed like it would be easy to choose what to do but it wasn’t.”

  “What scenarios?”

  “Ethical dilemmas. Like this famous one called the Trolley Problem.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You’re supposed to imagine you see a runaway trolley barreling down some railway tracks,” he says “and up ahead, there are five workers unaware. You happen to be standing next to a switch that could divert the trolley to another track where only one man works alone. The question is, do you pull the switch and kill one person rather than five?”

  “What do you think you’d do?”

  “I’d pull the switch.”

  I think for a moment and decide to play devil’s advocate. “I don’t know … could you really pull a switch that would cause a man’s death?”

  “Yeah, but if you don’t pull it five other guys are going to die.”

  “But if you don’t do anything, it’s an accident,” I say. “Otherwise somebody dies on purpose.”

  He shakes his head.
“People are going to die no matter what. You have the power to make it one person rather than five. I don’t even think it’s a choice, it’s more like your duty to pull it.”

  “Your duty?”

  “Yeah, if you’re standing there and you can influence the outcome for the better, don’t you have a moral obligation to do it?”

  “Yeah, probably,” I say. “It just feels wrong.”

  “Then you’re really not going to like the next part,” he says.

  “What next part?”

  “Everybody in our class said they’d pull the switch in the first scenario, but then our professor changed it up a little. Same deal, trolley’s hurtling down the tracks toward five unsuspecting workers. Only this time there’s no lever. Instead, you’re on a footbridge overlooking the tracks and there’s a very large man standing next to you. If you push the man onto the tracks into the path of the trolley to stop it, the five workers will be saved. Do you do it?”

  “Oh my God, of course not,” I say.

  “Yeah, I know, everyone agreed … but Professor Blakely pointed out that from a strictly utilitarian perspective, the outcome is the same. You’d still be saving five people.”

  “Only now you’re killing a man on purpose.”

  “Yeah, but that’s why you hesitated before, because even just pulling the lever felt like you were killing someone on purpose. But most people are willing to pull the lever but not push the man.”

  “Well now the lever is a man. It’s murder.”

  Justin nods. “The argument is that harm wasn’t intended in the first scenario, it was only a side effect of pulling the lever. But in the second scenario, your intent is to cause the man’s death.”

  “It’s evil.”

  “Right, we talked about that: deliberately intending harm, even for good causes, is wrong.”

  “None of those scenarios are realistic,” I say.

  “Yeah, we said that in class, too. They’re just academic exercises. But I was thinking about driverless cars. If a pilot in a plane is going to crash, steering to the least populated area is the right thing to do. But what about a car? Somebody has to code that software, right? If it’s headed for a crash with five people and it can turn and hit only one, should it be programmed to do that? But what if it’s going to hit a kid?”