Dark Child

by Jo Raven

  How does she do it? It reminds me what a disaster my own life is. All I have to show is a string of jobs I quit without regrets, and men whose faces I can hardly recall.

  The dark skies overhead and the heaviness in the air promise rain.

  Or maybe it’s that last awful break-up that still haunts me, makes me feel like such a failure, like it’s all on me. That’s what Steve told me. That I’m not somebody any guy would seriously want.

  Anyway, I need to talk to Soph. I’m supposed to leave town soon, but she’s been vague about when she’s coming back. I’m not in a rush to go, as we’ve established, but I’m not sure how long I can keep up this charade, either.

  And as if that wasn’t enough, on my way to the bus stop, I almost run into the hot cutie.

  “Shit, sorry,” he says, then looks up and stops.

  Seeing him from up close and personal is something else. He yanks his huge earphones off and glares at me. His T-shirt is gray today, I notice, and it reads ‘Give me what I can’t have,’ signed by Ugly Monkeys.

  A band name?

  “Sorry,” I mutter, echoing him, my mind on autopilot.

  He has golden freckles on his nose, his pale lashes are long, his mouth… gah. Delicious. He smells amazing, like clean soap and spice and sexy boy. How can a guy be so sexy? It should be outlawed. Sexy guys should stay indoors, under key and lock.

  But a frown tightens his face, and he starts to turn away.

  Not having any of that, not today. “Hey, wait.”

  He stops and faces me. “What do you want?”

  “We have Calculus together.”

  “Do we?” One brow arches. “Fascinating.”

  My hands clench. I knew it. He’s never noticed my sis or me. “You don’t have to be so rude, you know.”

  “I’m not—You know what?” He pushes hair out of his eyes. “Forget it.”

  “I just wanted to ask your name.”

  “My name?” He gives a harsh laugh, turning back toward me, and God, I should be walking away, but I’m still staring at him—at his chiseled jaw and full mouth, at the blond strand of his hair falling on his forehead, and at how his scruff catches the light. “Ah, what the hell. I’m Merc.”

  Wait… “Merick?”

  “Merc, goddammit. Merc Watson.”

  “Okay, Merc Watson. Sorry I asked.” Yeah, this was a big mistake. My turn to make my escape. “Have a nice day.”

  But I’ve barely taken a step away, when his hand clamps around my wrist.

  “Wait, don’t…” He lets out a long breath. “I’m glad you asked, okay? Can we start over?”

  I give him a narrow-eyed look. “Sure.”

  “How about a coffee?”

  My eyes must be bugging out of my head, like in the cartoons. He’s asking me out? I mean, for a coffee?

  Focus, Cos.

  “Suuure?” I take a bracing breath. “I mean, sure!”

  “Okay, good.” A light flush rises to his face, making his clear blue eyes brighter. He’s gazing down at me from his considerable height, and seems to be thinking, if the crease between his brows is anything to go by.

  I’m thinking too, and it hits me that maybe this wasn’t a very good idea. “Um, listen…”

  “How about now?” he says. “There’s this small diner around the corner.”

  “Sure, okay.” God, I sound like a broken record.

  He tugs on the strap of his messenger bag, settling it again on his broad shoulder, and flashes me a quick, crooked smile that turns my insides to mush. “Let’s go.”

  Merc Watson is funny.

  “And then I knocked on the window, and she screamed like, I dunno, like a banshee on crack or something.” He grins, and I blink stars from my eyes.

  “You didn’t.”

  “Sure did. Then she chased me around the house with a broom. She caught me and made me wear a bow in my hair the whole day.”

  “Your sister.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Gige.”

  “Gigi. Short for Augusta.”

  “Of course. Because the other one is called…”

  “Octavia.”

  “Octavia, right. And you’re Merc. From Mercenary?”

  “From Mercury.”

  “The Roman trickster God?”

  He blinks slowly. “…Yeah. Not many people know that.”

  “I just like mythology.”

  What a coincidence, huh? And me with a Greek name and all. It’s like a light kindling in my mind, telling me it’s more than that, that destiny works in mysterious ways…

  …and I snuff it out.

  Seriously? Destiny? Come on. Just because the guy turned out to be friendly and not the arrogant asshole I’d thought at first?

  Friendly, funny and hot.

  And about to leave.

  “Shit, I gotta go. Look at the time.” He lifts his phone off the table and then shoves it into his back pocket as he gets up. “I’m already late.”

  “Where do you work?”

  “Mancave. A garage.”

  A student and a mechanic? Interesting combo. And did I mention, hot…

  “We should do this again,” he says, in that warm voice of his.

  I blink. “Seriously?”

  “Have coffee with me tomorrow, same time?”

  I manage a nod, my heart pounding.

  “Awesome.” He puts some bills on the table and winks. His hand brushes mine, and an electric shock goes through me at the touch. “Coffee is on me.”

  “Um, thanks.”

  His crooked grin is sweet. Sweet and hot as the angels’ downfall, and I’m transfixed, overwhelmed with the sudden need to kiss him. Find out how those lips taste, how he kisses—aggressively, hard and possessive, or gentle and slow.

  Never met a guy who could get me wet with a smile. Holy crap.

  I’m still staring after him as he turns and lopes out of the diner with the easy grace of a big cat, his broad shoulders filling the doorway for a moment before he vanishes.

  Whoa, be still my heart. It’s just coffee, right? Just hanging out.

  Merc Watson and me, sitting in a tree.

  Having coffee.

  Definitely not kissing, okay?

  “Is he hot?” my bestie asks on the phone that night.

  “Yeah.” I lick my lips at the thought of him and clench deep inside.

  Crap.

  “You know what that means, right?” she asks.

  I shrug. “Big trouble?”

  “It means you can’t see him again.”

  A weird stab of pain goes through my chest. “He seems nice.”

  “Have you ever met a hot guy who’s nice?”

  Point. I hear what she’s saying. Keep your distance. Don’t trust the façade. It wouldn’t be the first time I got burned, as we all know.

  Not sure though… not sure it’s not too late already. The memory of that smile, that face, that body, God…

  “Remember your promise before you left.”

  I sigh. “Look—”

  “No men.”

  I sigh deeper. “But—”

  “You said it, girl. After the last debacle, you said you wanted time to yourself, to figure it all out.”

  “I said that?”

  “Ah-huh.”

  “But how can I figure it out?” I pace the living room in agitated jagged lines, waving a hand in the air. “It’s me, isn’t it? I always go for the douchey ones. So how am I ever going to find the right guy, if it’s in me to choose the wrong ones?”

  My tirade is met with silence.

  “Better to try and get burned than never to try at all, right?” I continue. “Besides, we’re just talking, nothing more.”

  “Hold up. Guys don’t just want to hang out and have coffee, okay? We established that long ago.”

  “Boy Laws.” I rub at my forehead and the budding headache there.

  “That’s right. If a guy seems interested in seeing you it either means he’s—”
>
  “—gay and lonely or—”

  “—wants into your panties,” she finishes.

  Boy, don’t I wish Merc wants into my panties.

  What does he want from me?

  And more important still, what do I want with him when I apparently made myself a boy-free zone for the foreseeable future?

  A ping on my phone tells me someone else is calling me, and that’s good, because I’m not sure I want Lin to convince me Merc is no good.

  “Got to go. Talk soon!”

  I hang up to take the other call, and I’m glad I did when I see that the person calling is my sister.

  “Soph? Hey.” Cell phone pressed to my ear, I walk over to the window and look outside, at the street below, at the lit windows of the apartments across. The kitten stares at me from a safe distance, ready to run. Kitty doesn’t like me. “I’m here.”

  “Cos.” Her voice is choked up, and my heart squeezes at the sound. “The chemo is killing him. I can’t…” She has to stop and I hang my head, wishing I could take the pain from her and carry it myself, wishing I could find a way to give her a happy ending. “I wasted so much time,” my sis whispers through the phone, and I can hear tears in her voice. “And now there’s no time left, and I don’t know how to say goodbye.”

  I grip the phone harder. “No goodbyes yet. You have to hope for the best. Medicine does wonders nowadays.”

  “Hope is too hard, Cos. I’m afraid to hope.” She takes a few deep breaths. “Anyway, hey… Thanks for having my back.”

  “Always.”

  “Is everything…? Is the cat okay?”

  “Kitty’s fine. What’s her name?”

  “I never gave her a name. Listen, Cos, I won’t make it back before the end of the week. Think you can stay until then?”

  “Sure.” I think of having coffee with Merc tomorrow, and my traitorous body tightens with desire. “No problem.”

  Despite what Lin just reminded me, what I promised myself, what a hunk like Merc usually does to girls like me—like, break my heart and leave without a backward glance, just like Steve did.

  “I made mistakes,” she says, as if listening in to my thoughts, “many mistakes, Cos. Don’t do what I did. If you want something, or somebody, go for it. Tell them, hold them. Show them.”

  “Yeah,” I whisper. Though that seems to be my number one mistake, most of the time: going all in and then gathering my pieces from the floor. “Love you, sis. Take care, and see you soon.”

  Her only mistake, the one I know about, was leaving her then boyfriend, Griffin, two years ago, when he’s the one she’s always wanted. No matter what she says, what she believes, she never made my mistakes, my stupid, childish mistakes, time after time.

  She deserves so much better. She deserves to be happy.

  The least I can do is help her find her way.

  One of us should.

  The conversation with Lin stays with me, though, and I can’t stop thinking about it the next day. About staying away from pretty boys with eyes like a summer sky and arms that look like they can bend steel.

  Away from Merc.

  I’ve in fact made up my mind not to show up at the coffee shop in the afternoon. It’s not set in stone, after all, not a date, and we didn’t even exchange phone numbers or anything. For him it may be all fun and games. Seduce the stupid girl who’s drooling after him, maybe snap a picture or two, post on social media and have a good laugh with his friends.

  Haven’t I been down that road before? I should never have talked to him, never accepted to go out with him—even for a coffee. What was I thinking?

  But he was funny, my mind protests. He was nice. I had fun with him.

  As I pass near the diner, at about the time we had coffee yesterday, I hesitate. On a whim, I approach. Work is done for the day, and what I want is to lie on the sofa with a good book, the TV playing some nonsense show.

  Or maybe what I really want is to see Merc, because when I spot him at the entrance of the diner, my heart does a backflip.

  Is it him?

  Approaching stealthily, I make out his face, and my heart keeps performing those strange little flips and flicks, like a drunken bird.

  He’s wearing a dark gray hoodie unzipped at the front that molds to his strong upper body and shows off his trim waist and narrow hips. His blond hair is not spiky today but falling soft and shiny in his eyes. His T-shirt is a riot of colors with a skull grinning in the middle.

  He’s reading something on his phone, brows pulled together, the other gripping the back of his neck like he wants to strangle himself.

  Not as relaxed as I thought at first. Tension radiates off him in waves.

  Then he glances up, as if sensing me watching him, and… the tension melts away. A smile spreads on his face, and oh boy... That’s it, I’m done, stick a fork in me.

  An invisible string pulls me toward him, toward that smile, and I’m reeled in, offering no resistance.

  “There you are,” I whisper, my mouth doing its own thing, not asking me for instructions.

  “I came early. I was waiting for you.”

  When he reaches for my hand, catches it and pulls me closer, there’s a pinprick of fire in my chest that spreads to my neck and scorches my face, that makes me feel dizzy with joy and hot with desire.

  What is he doing to me?

  His hand is big, I think randomly as he drags me into the diner, my steps uncertain, like my mind. So big it engulfs mine, and I like that. His fingers are long, like an artist’s, his knuckles slightly blackened, as if with charcoal. One of his nails is broken.

  We sit, and he lowers our still entwined hands on top of the table, between us.

  Why is he still holding my hand?

  Not that I’m complaining. I can feel the heat of his skin, the strength in his grip all the way to the pit of my stomach and the marrow of my bones.

  “Whatcha listening to?” I nod at the heavy-duty headphones hanging around his neck. “Anything good?”

  “Oh yeah, it’s awesome. Wanna hear?” Again that blinding smile that makes my knees go weak. At my slight nod, he lifts the headphones off and places them on my head. “There.”

  “What…?” I frown as the unknown melody pours into my ears. “Who’s that?”

  “This is ‘Leave it all up to me’ by Screaming Females.”

  He says it seriously, and I barely hear him over the music, watching his lips move. If I leaned forward a few inches, I could press my mouth to his and finally solve the mystery of the taste of his lips. Feel the scrape of that golden scruff. Take in the scent of his skin.

  The waitress comes to take our order, and I quickly lift off the headphones. “Coffee and pancakes with chocolate syrup and cream, please.”

  “Just coffee,” he says, and accepts his headphones back. “So? What did you think?”

  “I like it,” I say truthfully. “I’d never heard of them before.”

  His eyes sparkle. “I’ll teach you all about it, if you like.”

  Joy comes off him in waves, and I lean in, transfixed. “About music?”

  “Indie rock, indie pop... But also other things.” He winks.

  He’s like the sun, sending off light and heat. I understand the girls flocking to him. He’s not just handsome, he’s somehow… bright and... Wait a minute. Did he just wink at me, or did I imagine it? And did he just offer to teach me… other things?

  He’s just joking around, I decide when he pulls his hand away. “What other things?”

  “Calculus.” He sounds like he’s teasing me.

  “Calculus sounds… awesome. We could study together.”

  “If you want.”

  Oh, I want. I want a lot of things, but before I open my mouth and say anything stupid, the waitress appears again, placing our order on the table and sashaying away. He hasn’t shown a single indication that he’s interested in me before today.

  Maybe Lin’s Boy Laws are wrong.

  And I mean, if this boy
doesn’t already have a girlfriend, the whole universe is wrong. A guy like him can’t be single and looking for company. A black hole would be forming right here, right now, about to suck us all out into outer space.

  I dig into my pancake to force my mind off his possible girlfriend. A cheerleader, probably, with long blond hair and huge tits.

  Ugh, stop.

  “You like pancakes,” he observes.

  The boy’s astute, too. Give him a prize.

  “What gave me away?” I ask, then wipe my mouth quickly on my paper napkin, my stomach so full I’ll probably need to pop the top button of my pants open.

  He laughs quietly. “I make the best pancakes in town. Just saying.”

  “And you’re offering to make me some?”

  “Maybe. Depending”

  On what?

  He reaches out and wipes something off my chin. “You had some chocolate there.”

  Crap. Frantically I rub at my chin and try the paper napkin again. “Sorry.”

  “Mmm…” He sticks his finger into his mouth to suck it clean, and I have to clench my thighs to ease the throb starting there, and deeper inside. “Don’t be.”

  Oh boy.

  “So you like mythology,” he says, the low, sexy timbre of his voice not helping matters down there. “And pancakes. And maybe indie rock.”

  And you, I think. I like you.

  But I don’t trust myself, my judgment, my weakness for pretty boys.

  “I also like cats.”

  “That explains the T-shirts you wear every time,” he murmurs.

  He noticed! “And you’re often on campus. Taking many classes?”

  “A couple, though I have no fucking clue what I wanna major in.”

  “At least you’re trying to figure it out. I’m not sure where I’m going, to be honest.”

  Our heads bend together in mutual commiseration, matching rueful grins on our faces.

  “It will come to you,” he says. “The answer.”

  To life, the universe and everything?

  “Yeah. To you, too.”

  “Bet you say that to all the boys.”

  “Only the promising ones,” my smart-ass mouth says for me.

  “Good.” He pushes his coffee mug away and looks straight at me, a question in his light eyes that I can’t decipher.