by S. L. Stacy
He nudges my shoulder, and I turn to accept a glass from him.
“Are you hungry?” he asks me. “I don’t really have a lot here, but I’m sure we could scrounge something up.”
“I’m fine. Still full from dinner.” Right…I can pretty much eat whenever, but I don’t know him well enough to divulge all of my darkest secrets. Sipping my milk, I grimace slightly but swallow it anyway.
Jasper notices my frown. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, really. It just tastes really sweet,” I explain. “Not that I’m anti-sugar. It just surprised me.”
“Sorry, I should have mentioned—it’s lactose-free. Sometimes I forget it tastes different than regular milk.”
So the paragon of love and desire has a lactose sensitivity? For some reason this makes me happy. I guess even a Greek god isn’t utterly perfect.
“You asked me why Aphrodite’s here,” he recalls, sitting down on the love seat’s glossy black cushions. I already forgot, but nod to encourage him to continue. “As I mentioned before, it’s forbidden for us to cross universes,” he says after swallowing a big gulp of milk. “Aphrodite and Hephaestus are here for me. But she’s insanely jealous of you. She always has been. I’m concerned for your safety.”
“I see.” I use my hands to sweep back flyaway strands of hair out of my face as I think back to our confrontation with Hef. “Who are Apate and Dolos?”
“Olympians. Brother and sister. Why?”
“Hephaestus asked you if Dolos came with you.”
“Ah, that’s right. I don’t really know what that was all about.” The way he shrugs it off makes me suspect he does know. He drains his glass and takes my empty one. He walks back into the kitchen and sets them in the sink. “Do you mind if we turn in soon? It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”
“Sure. Do you have extra sheets?” He raises his eyebrows. “For the couch,” I explain.
His lips curve into an amused, wicked smile. “Why do you think I’d make you sleep on there? You’re sleeping in the bed. With me.”
“I’m fine. I’m small—I fit. See?” I curl up on the love seat, only bending my knees slightly.
“We can sleep together without sleeping together,” he points out. His expression grows serious. “I won’t touch you. Look, if it makes you uncomfortable, take the bed, and I’ll sleep on the floor.”
From the tone of his voice, you would think it’s really no big deal, but my reluctance has dulled the glitter of hopefulness in his eyes. He assumes an inscrutable mask, but I know he’s hurt. Pouting, like a child. Even so, I concede, “No, you’re right. We’re both adults here. We’ll just…go to sleep.”
He nods but doesn’t perk up again at my change of heart, just disappears into the bathroom and slams the door shut behind him. I hear running water. Sighing, I perch on the foot of his bed for a moment. I don’t think I can do this. Not the sleeping with him in his bed part—the rediscovering our love part. Maybe it’s true that I’m Psyche, his deceased wife reincarnated, but I honestly don’t know how she put up with him. Even though his fervent gaze and teasing caresses are hard to resist—he’s a black hole of insatiable sexual energy, sucking me in—it only takes seconds for his mood to switch from flirty and playful to dark and resentful. Can Olympians be bipolar?
“Can I borrow a shirt?” I shout when the sink turns off. When he doesn’t answer, I get up and slide the door of his closet open. It’s sparser than I imagined, with only a few pairs of dress pants, shirts and suit jackets hanging inside. I reach up to the shelf and grab a plain black t-shirt. When I put it on, it comes down to just above my knees. The bathroom door clicks open, and Jasper comes out. He looks me up and down with renewed interest.
“Seeing you in my shirt is pretty sexy,” he admits. Although his mischievous grin has returned, worry flashes in his eyes, as if he’s wary of my reaction.
I smile to let him know it’s okay. “Excuse me,” I tell him, ducking into the bathroom.
Minutes later, we lay side-by-side on his bed without touching each other. The rest of the apartment might be minimalist, but there’s a touch of Jasper in the dark red satin sheets covering the bed. He’s turned on his side, his back to me. I stare at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep even though my sore muscles welcome the soft firmness of the mattress and my eyes feel heavy. Thought after thought tumbles through my mind, distracting me from sleep.
“Do I look like her?” I whisper into the dark. I don’t even realize I’ve said it out loud until I hear Jasper’s questioning grunt beside me. He rolls over to face me.
“Do I look like Psyche?” I repeat. “Is that how you knew I was her?”
Jasper shakes his head. “Not exactly. You share some features with her—your stature, pale skin, blonde hair. But you don’t look like her any more than you look like any other petite blonde girl.
“Except for the eyes.” He shifts closer to me. In the darkened room, his eyes glow like black marbles. The streetlight filtering through the blinds on the window send stripes of alternating light and dark over the bed. “You have the same eyes. I could see her in them.”
“Was she prettier than me?”
“Siobhan—”
“Did she have bigger boobs than me?” A snort of laughter escapes from me before I can turn it into a girlish giggle, and now that he knows I’m kidding he joins in.
“Seriously, though,” he says after our laughter has subsided, “you are beautiful, but it’s not just about that. You have her charm, her grace. Her caring heart.”
Suddenly, he breaks his “no touching” promise, pulling me into his chest. His face is so close I can feel his minty breath on mine when he says, “Maybe you don’t remember me, remember us—and maybe you never will. But I hope you can learn to love me, as we are now.” His lips on mine prevent any reply from me—not that I was ready with one, anyway. It’s a soft, closed-mouth kiss, but filled with a gentle passion and a desperate yearning that makes my body sink further into him. When it’s over, I stay curled up beside him and fall asleep with my head on his chest.
Chapter 18
It’s still dark outside when I wake up. During the night, Jasper and I drifted apart to our respective sides of the bed. I feel it move as Jasper sits up, then gets up. I look over at the blazing red numbers of the digital clock on the nightstand. I hug my pillow and moan into it.
“It’s six o’clock. Why do you have to be up so early?” I ask him, my voice still groggy with fatigue.
“Some of us have to be on campus by eight,” he says. “You don’t have to get up—stay here, if you like.”
I blink back the sleep threatening to take me over again and sit up. “I should get up, too. I need to stop by the sorority house. All my stuff is there,” I remind Jasper when he shoots me an alarmed look. “I’ll be careful.”
He doesn’t look convinced but says nothing, except “I’m going to take a shower.” Draping a forest green towel over his shoulder, he disappears into the bathroom. I get out my phone to check in with the world, even though most of the people I know probably aren’t up yet. Anna is first on my list. I feel bad for not having texted her sooner.
you get home ok last night?
Next I check my email. There’s nothing important except for the minutes and reminders from yesterday’s chapter meeting. While I’m skimming over them Anna texts me back:
yep! everything's fine. you too? Before I can reply, she sends me another message: did you see this? there was a fire at the WPH after we left?!!! I select the link she included and glance over the news article: Firefighters were able to contain the “fire of unknown cause” to the garden, the hotel itself remaining unscathed.
I look up to the sound of the bathroom door opening. Jasper emerges with the towel wrapped around his torso, his hair damp, stray droplets of water glistening on his chest. I turn my attention back to my phone. My libido can’t handle this much sexy so early in the morning. I go back to my email and hit “compose” to send out an
other reminder about the dance on Friday.
“Crap,” I mumble as I’m pounding out the message.
“What’s wrong?” Jasper asks.
“We’re supposed to set our big sisters up with a blind date for our dance on Friday. I haven’t found anyone for Victoria yet.”
“That shouldn’t be too hard. You don’t have to look very far.”
“What do you mean?” Without thinking I look up, forgetting about the towel. I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed to see he’s since put on pants.
“I think she has a little crush on you,” he explains, buttoning up his shirt.
“How did you know she’s—”
“I didn’t, until I saw her hovering over you after your fight with Liz.”
“Like a mother hen,” I insist.
Jasper shrugs, his mouth set in a skeptical frown. “If you say so. Anyway, I’ll find her a date,” he assures me.
“You will?” I sigh gratefully. “Thanks.” It occurs to me that, knowing a houseful of Sigma Iota brothers, it should be easy for him to find Victoria a lavender date. “You like playing matchmaker, don’t you, Cupid?” I realize, recalling Liz, and Eric and Anna.
Jasper grimaces. “You can call me anything you want. Anything except that.”
“Got it, Cupid,” I tease him and take my turn in the bathroom. I splash my face and change back into my torn dress. I’ll shower when I’m back at the house.
“Do you have a jacket I could borrow?” I ask him later.
“Sure.” He comes up behind me and engulfs me in one of his black suit jackets. The sleeves stop just above my fingertips. “Ready to go?”
“How are we getting there?” I ask, suddenly suspicious.
“Relax. I have a car.”
***
We sit in silence as Jasper navigates the side streets to get back to campus, but it’s a comfortable, contemplative silence rather than a tense one. The suburbs are waking up under the gray dawn as people get in their minivans to drive their kids to school or go to work. Just like with his apartment, I pictured Jasper behind the wheel of a sleek, black sports car—not this wheezing, tan station wagon that looks like something my grandparents might drive. Still, it’s better than flying.
“Thanks,” I tell him when he rolls up to the Quad. “See you in a few hours.”
He takes my hand and pecks a kiss on my knuckles. “Thanks for staying over last night.” Unsure of what to say, I give him a shy but contented smile before getting out of the car.
Swiping my card key in the front door, I push it open to the sound of Tanya’s high-pitched, angry voice shattering the peaceful morning.
“You can’t do this!” she screams as I come inside. I close the door loudly behind me, but she doesn’t look up. Her eyes are trained on the open door to Farrah’s room.
“Tanya, calm down.” That’s Victoria, a note of warning in her otherwise reassuring tone.
“I’m not going to calm down! She can’t do this!” Tears streak down Tanya’s tan cheeks. She’s still in her pajamas, her blonde hair sticking up at odd angles around her head. “We’re a sorority—we try to retain members, not kick them out! Recruitment’s in two weeks! How are we supposed to recruit anybody with only half our chapter?”
Half of our chapter? Farrah wants to kick out half of our girls? “What’s going on?” I call out, making my presence known, but no one turns to me.
“I can’t explain everything right now.” Farrah’s calm, sweet voice is the hardest to hear, further muffled because she’s inside her room. “All I can say is they don’t represent the ideals of the sisterhood. They don’t belong here.”
“You never explain anything!” Tanya erupts, wiping at her bleary eyes with her thumbs. “And how dare you say that! You just got here—you have no right to make that judgment! This is bullshit!” With that final exclamation, Tanya spins around and runs upstairs.
“Twin, what happened?” I ask, hurrying after her.
She stomps into our room and growls. “Our stupid House Monster has decided to suspend twenty five of our active members. And Victoria’s taking her side!” She plops down on her bed and puts her head in her hands. When she next speaks, her voice is quieter, more confused than angry. “Why would she do that? They love this sorority.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know,” I tell her, although I have a sinking feeling that something else is going on—something neither Jasper nor Farrah will tell me, something beyond her supposed personal hatred of me. Something deeper, more disturbing.
Tanya dries her eyes with a tissue and then blows her nose noisily into it.
“I need to take a shower,” I tell her. “Are you okay?”
She nods and sighs in defeat. “I guess I’ll go eat breakfast.”
When she’s gone, I shed Jasper’s jacket and my ripped dress, wrap myself in a terrycloth robe and plod to the bathroom. The cool, gentle spray from the shower wakes me the rest of the way up. I put on a pair of black leggings and an aqua tunic. Into my messenger bag I stuff my books for class before slinging it diagonally over my left shoulder so it’s resting on my hip. I fold Jasper’s jacket over my arm and decide to return it to him now, before class.
Downstairs, Tanya sits cross-legged on the couch, stuffing her mouth with brightly colored cereal. The door to Farrah’s room is closed again, and Victoria is nowhere to be found.
“We’ll figure this out,” I tell her as I’m heading out the door. “I promise.”
“Thanks,” she says, milk dribbling onto her chin.
Outside, the sky remains overcast in typical Shadesburg fashion. It looked like it was going to rain all weekend, but the sky still hasn’t opened up. I take my time crossing campus to the humanities building, watching as the zombie-like faces of those unfortunate students with nine a.m. classes pass by me. I bring up the World Myths and Legends syllabus on my phone to double-check Jasper’s office number: Room 2B.
Inside Frasier Hall, I walk up the hardwood stairs to the second floor and wander the hall until I see a pair of glass doors stamped with History Department in gold letters. I’m about to go up to it when I see a group of people emerging from the depths of the suite—a group that includes Liz, with Jasper bringing up the rear. None of them have seen me yet, and for some reason instinct sends me diving for cover just inside the doorway to the women’s restroom.
“We’re still on for Friday,” Jasper reminds them. I peer around the wall. “We’ll meet up here at six p.m.” Besides Liz, Genie, Sam and several of his Sigma Iota brothers are there. The rest I don’t recognize. “Do you think you’ll be able to get the stones?” This question is for Liz.
“Yes, Master,” Liz twitters. She gazes up into his face, and the unwavering reverence I see in her deep brown eyes makes me feel numb.
“Please don’t call me that.”
“Yeah. Grow up,” says Genie, her breath fluttering her shiny black bangs as she emphasizes the last word.
Liz crosses her arms, her lower lip jutting out in a childish frown. “The next time Farrah leaves the house, I’ll get them,” she assures him.
“Thank you. We saw this coming,” Jasper confesses, “but this is just a hiccup, guys. Once they’re out of the picture, we can continue with our work. Thanks again for your hard work and patience, everyone.”
The group continues to roll down the hall, a ball of anticipation and excited chatter, but Jasper lingers in front of the glass doors for a moment. His eyes dart in the direction of the women’s restroom, and I flatten myself against the wall, palms sweating, heart pounding. It feels like an eternity before he finally goes back inside. I wait a few minutes before creeping out and take off in the direction of the stairs, his jacket still draped over my arm.
Chapter 19
I sit on one of the benches outside Frasier Hall to wait until class starts at ten. My stomach rumbles, and I remember I didn’t eat any breakfast at the house. When I dig around my messenger bag, my hand emerges with a vanilla flavore
d protein bar. I usually save these to eat before I go running, but it’s better than nothing. I unwrap it and take a bite while I try to reorder my thoughts. I’ve got one House Monster, as Tanya so lovingly called Farrah, who has not only come here to haul her son back to Olympus, but also wants to jeopardize Gamma Lambda Phi by kicking out half of our members only a few weeks before recruitment. Why would a beautiful, powerful, practically immortal being have any interest in the quality of members in a measly sorority—especially when ours happen to be some of the smartest, cutest, nicest women on campus? I know this is self-centered, but is this all because of me? Because she hates me? I don’t care what she does to me, but dragging my sisters into this is crossing the line.
I’ve also got a gorgeous if unpredictable ex-husband who still adores me; a man the Ancient Greeks worshipped as the embodiment of virility, of love and desire. Even though he tells me he understands that, in this life, I can’t be the exact same woman as his wife, he wants me to magically become her and succumb to him, which I’m finding harder and harder to resist. It’s difficult to tell if this is, deep down, a manifestation of my undying love for him, or my body’s reaction to some pretty potent pheromones. He also hasn’t told me about his secret club with Liz, Genie, Sam and the other minions. Why does he need Liz to steal these stones from Farrah? I’m assuming they have something to do with kicking his ass back to Olympus, as Hephaestus would say. But then why not tell me about it? And why do I feel this sudden urgency to get to the stones before Liz can?
My phone buzzes in my bag, interrupting my thoughts. Seeing the name on the caller ID brings a smile to my face.
