by Kristie Cook
“Well, with buddies like that, he ought to be okay,” I say numbly. “So, what are you up to today?” I ask, trying to change the subject and hoping that Freddie will have pity on me and put the firewall back in his bag so I won’t have to look at it all through breakfast.
“Nada. You?” he asks, plucking the unit off the table as if reading my mind.
“Laundry,” I answer in relief. “Then, I have my first game this afternoon.”
“Who’re you playing?” he asks.
“The Kappas I think,” I answer, taking a sip of orange juice.
“What time?” he asks.
“Four,” I say.
“I’ll be there,” he replies, smiling.
“Thanks, Freddie,” I say, but I can’t return his smile no matter how hard I try.
***
Our first game is drawing a bigger crowd than I expected. The new uniforms might have something to do with that. Our jerseys and skirts are red with a vertical black stripe on either side. The collared, sleeveless shirt molds itself to my body, as does the skirt, leaving little to the imagination. Red knee socks complete the outfit, covering my shin guards. The Kappas are in navy blue skirts with lighter blue tops and light blue knee socks. We all resemble an updated version of the Catholic schoolgirl outfit, which I think is part of the draw.
Seeing Freddie milling around on the sidelines with a couple of other guys, I wave to him. I am just about to go over and speak to Freddie when I notice Russell arriving at the field. He isn’t alone. A flush stains my cheeks when I realize he’s with the girl he was snogging the other night. What is her name … Candace? If jealousy could be a living thing, then it resides in me when I see them holding hands and standing close to each other, talking intimately.
Why is he here with her? I wonder, until I notice that Candace is wearing a blue uniform, and it dawns on me that Russell is here to cheer her on. Attempting to hide my outrage, I storm over to where my teammates are warming up. As I stretch, I try to ignore them when Russell gives Candace a good-luck kiss and a less than fraternal pat on her butt before she joins her team.
It’s too dangerous for me to be around him, I think, reminding myself once again that it is better for Russell not to be anywhere near me, but it’s hard to remember that with the hot coils of envy burning me.
The referees signal the captains up for the coin toss, and Brownie goes to call it. Tossing the coin in the air, Brownie wins it, and she elects to take the center pass. I run onto the field to get into position near the centerline. A few moments later, Candace lines up directly across from me near the white, chalky line.
It seems grossly unfair to me that she can be beautiful, even with a sneer on her lips as she says, “Hey, psycho, I’d appreciate it if you’d stay out of my boyfriend’s room.”
My eyes widen as I ask, “Excuse me?” unsure of what she means.
With a condescending smile, she adds, “It’s probably illegal what you did yesterday—messing with Russell’s computer.” She rests her stick across her knees as she leans forward. “Everyone thinks you’re a psycho freshman groupie for breaking into his room,” she says, watching my face.
I’m so mortified; my blush matches my red jersey. For a moment, I have a vision of crushing her throat under my cleat. I’m on fire inside, but my tongue turns to ash in my mouth, so I can’t respond.
The referee sets the ball on the line before blowing his whistle. Buns takes possession of the ball to start the game. Hitting it ahead to Brownie, we run up the field together while Brownie flicks the ball to Weeza. I easily run around Candace, who is actively attempting to get in my way. Trying to anticipate the play and be in a good position to accept a pass, I hear the sound of my own breathing. The noise from the crowd fades as I focus on my objective. I don’t have long to wait for a pass as the ball comes arcing toward my stick from Babs. Bringing my stick down low to control the ball, I redirect it forward toward the D. Easily outmaneuvering Candace, I propel the ball into the striking circle as Buns runs ahead of me to take a position near the goal.
I scoop the ball toward Buns, who brings her stick down to handle the pass; then she redirects the stick, sending the ball in the direction of the goal. It sails by the Kappas’ goalkeeper, who lunges awkwardly toward it. Goal! I think as the crowd bursts into applause. Grinning, I hug Buns, congratulating her on an excellent shot as we walk back to our huddle. The Kappas now have possession of the ball from the centerline. I go to the mid-field line once again, and Candace lines up opposite me.
Candace sends me a fake smile from across the chalk. “You know, we were all talking about coming over to your dorm room last night … we were going to throw that thing you put on Russell’s computer right through your window,” Candace says smugly.
“That thing is called a firewall, Candace,” I reply in a low tone.
She wrinkles her nose. “Whatever, geek,” she retorts.
The whistle blows, and one of the Kappa attackers flicks the ball ahead, trying to get it by me using poor stick handling. I easily take possession of the ball, reversing it. Pushing the ball ahead to Babs, I sprint forward so that I can help her out near the striking circle. The Kappas don’t even touch the ball before Babs scoops it ahead to me again.
Entering the D with Babs, I notice the Kappa defender screening her own goalie. Knowing the goalie can’t see me through all that traffic, I immediately search for an opening before taking a shot at the goal. The goalkeeper hardly even moves in the direction of the ball as it flies into the goal. The crowd on the sidelines applauds my goal loudly, but I almost don’t feel good about it because now I have to go back to the centerline and listen to Candace again.
I walk over to the huddle, receiving congratulatory hugs from my teammates as the referee sets up the ball on the centerline again. Lining back up, Candace doesn’t look happy. “Nice goal, psycho,” she says with faux sweetness. “That’s about the only way a girl like you is going to score. Is it true what Russell said about you … that you’re still a virgin?”
My eyes narrow, I will kill him, I think as color flees from my face. Russell must have told her that … said something. When the whistle blows, I don’t move and neither does Candace; we both stand eye to eye, sneering at each other.
Brownie sees what is going on and runs back to pull me away from Candace. “Don’t let her get to you, Evie,” Brownie says, putting her arm around me. “I’ll trade sides with you. You can line up on the other side. We’ll get you the ball so you can score again. They really suck this year.”
I try to shrug it off, “Sure, okay,” I reply, but all I really want to do is just go back to my room and hide for a while.
I switch sides with Brownie, and I am given the ball several more times, scoring on each possession. By half time, it is over. The crowd has dwindled because the Kappas are being shut out seventeen to zero. The referees talk to the captains, and the Kappas agree to forfeit the second half.
Walking over to the sidelines, I pour water into a paper cup. Searching the crowd for Freddie, I can’t find him. He must’ve left before half time. I really can’t blame him because it was an awful game to play, let alone watch. Sipping my water, I hear Candace complaining to Russell about the referees and bad officiating. She’s delusional if she thinks they had any chance of coming back in the second half. Russell doesn’t say anything about the game, but he tries to make her feel better by taking her in his arms and hugging her. A painful ache swells in my chest as I watch them together. I remember what it feels like to be held by him like that, and I have to turn away.
Deciding that I’ve been tortured enough for one day, I look around for Brownie and Buns. I want to let them know I’m ready to leave, but I pause and bring my hand to my abdomen when a small, fluttering sensation tickles me. Dropping the paper cup, I search around for any sign of Reed while the sensation grows steadily. Within a few heartbeats, I see him walking toward the field from the parking lot near the field house.
Seeing
Reed again causes me to have tunnel vision; I forget everything else around me except him. Awash with excitement and the anxiety of a new relationship, my feet leave a snail-like pattern in the dewy grass as I move toward him. All the anger and embarrassment of the past couple hours melts away as I pick up my pace, running the last few steps to meet him. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I rest my face against his chest.
“Reed,” I breathe softly, “you’re back … I missed you.”
CHAPTER 15 - LIGHT AND SHADOW
A slow, sexy smile travels all the way to Reed’s eyes as he hugs me to him. Leaning close to my ear, he murmurs, “I missed you, too,” like he is telling me a secret that only we share. My heart beats harder with happiness while my cheeks flood with color. “Did I miss your game?” he asks me with disappointment in his tone, looking over at the field.
I give a little shrug, “You probably would’ve made the second half, but the Kappas had to forfeit—it was a shut out,” I reply, grateful that there’ll be no second half.
“That bad, huh?” he asks me with a quirk of his eyebrow. When I nod, his green eyes sparkle with pleasure. “Did you score?” he asks me interestedly, tucking a piece of my hair behind my ear that has escaped from one of my braids.
“Yes, but everyone scored at least once, so that’s not such a huge accomplishment,” I say honestly, watching him as his smile grows a little bigger.
“Do you have plans now, or can you take a ride with me? We could go to my house for a while,” he asks me softly.
A small laugh resonates from him when I immediately nod my head enthusiastically. Turning around, he keeps one arm around my shoulder as we walk to his car. I spy Brownie and Buns watching me leave with Reed, so I wave goodbye to them as we retreat to the parking lot. Reaching his car, he pauses before opening the passenger door to kiss me gently. Feeling breathless and giddy, I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer to me.
“I’m glad you’re back,” I breathe near his ear.
“So am I,” he whispers in return.
Opening my door for me, he waits while I climb into the seat. Walking around to the driver’s side, he gets in, too. Taking my hand, he places a tender kiss on it before releasing it so he can shift the car into gear.
A small frown clouds his eyes as he says, “I am sorry I left you here alone this weekend. I have been worried about you. How have you been?”
“I’m better now that you’re back.” I say evasively, and then ask, “Where did you go? Your note didn’t say.”
“A friend contacted me regarding a military issue he needed help resolving,” Reed says soberly. “I didn’t want to go—I didn’t want to leave you here unprotected, but had I not gone, I would have run the risk of my friend becoming suspicious about what would keep me from a mission,” he says, looking at me pointedly. “I would like to avoid that if at all possible.”
Frowning, I ask, “Why wouldn’t you want your friend to come here?”
Reed scans my face briefly before he answers reluctantly, “My friend is an angel.”
“Ohh … and that’s a problem because?” I trail off, hoping his answer won’t be terrible.
Reed’s frown deepens and his lips thin a little as he says, “Let me be perfectly clear about this, Evie. Just because he is not a fallen angel, that does not make him safe to you. Do not confuse our nature with that of a greeting card angel. We are warriors, lethal predators, and in many ways, our time here on Earth has taught us self-preservation, and in some cases, self indulgence as well. Zephyr would most certainly recognize what you are, and I would rather not kill him if I can avoid it,” he says evenly.
“You’re sure that he—um, that Zephyr—would try to hurt me?” I ask sadly, thinking that if Reed is afraid to trust his friend to be near me, to know that I exist, then we have some serious issues to discuss.
“I don’t know. As I said before, we are jealous creatures, and there is any number of things that he could object to where you’re concerned. You elicit extreme emotion, and I don’t know if he would interpret you as a threat, or something else,” he says.
Studying him for a moment, I can tell that he has thought a lot about this. My eyes narrow as I wonder aloud, “If not a threat, then what?”
Reed’s voice is a little stiff when he replies, “Perhaps he would be drawn to you as well.”
My eyes widen. “Oh, you mean I might give him butterflies, too?” I ask, doubtfully.
“Yes,” he says gravely.
“And that thought bothers you?” I ask him in surprise.
“Yes,” he says, watching the road ahead.
I sigh heavily as I ask, “Reed, why would you choose to help me over your friend—your ally?” I still don’t really understand just how I’ve won him as my champion. I’m a half-breed and he’s, well, a perfect being.
Reed’s frown deepens as he says quietly, “You are my responsibility now, and I will protect you.”
My heart sinks a little as I mutter, “You make me sound like I’m an obligation.”
“You are alone, and you are fragile,” he murmurs, gazing at me as he drives through town.
“Kittens are fragile. I’m a woman … um, an angel … thing,” I end uncertainly.
Reed tries to suppress the smile that is forming on the corners of his lips as he says, “You are kittenish compared to us—as any angel would be at your age. That’s why I want to hide you—at least until you grow stronger.”
“Is that why you didn’t call me all weekend, so your friend wouldn’t overhear you talking to me?” I ask him, suddenly understanding that he was protecting me by not calling me.
“Yes … I did listen to the message you left me a few times. I liked it. Next time, leave a longer message and tell me about your day or, I don’t know, anything. I like hearing your voice,” Reed admits.
“Okay,” I say, smiling, “if you promise that the next time you leave me a note, there will be at least one endearment in it because I don’t count ‘Dear Evie’ as an endearment.”
“You didn’t like my note?” he asks.
“No, I didn’t. It was lame,” I say with a little pout.
“It was lame? What should it have said?” he asks in amusement, while regarding my demeanor.
“Hmm, let me think … Dear Evie, whom I adore passionately, I promise to be back as soon as possible because I’ll miss you too much to be gone long. In fact, I can’t possibly leave without you, so I’ll see you when you get here,” I finish, smiling coyly at him. Reed’s eyes turn a deeper green while he watches me explain the note I want him to write to me.
“I left you that brief note because I didn’t want to pressure you,” he says softly. “I know that you must have feelings for Russell—how could you not? He is your soul mate. I am not really sure where I stand with you. But I liked your voice message, and I would not mind if you chose to greet me the way that you did at the field again.”
“You’re asking me where you stand … with me?” I ask as we ride up the well manicure driveway to his home.
“Only if you’re ready to talk about it,” he says gently.
I listen to his even breathing for a moment, trying to collect all of the splintered fragments that make up such a complex being—so that I can try to explain to him what he is to me. A blush creeps over my cheeks as I say in a breathless voice, “You’re what I want. No other angel, or man, will ever stand above you in my esteem, in my regard, or in my love.”
I don’t think Reed was at all prepared for what I had just said to him. We haven’t quite reached the circular drive in front of his house when he applies the break and the car rolls to a gentle stop. He isn’t looking at me; rather, he’s staring out of the windshield at the darkening sky. “But, I was sure that you and Russell … that it is meant … that you and he—” Reed begins, but I interrupt him.
“No. I told Russell this weekend that you are what I want,” I explain, attempting to read what he’s thinking.
Reed, stiff
ening as if he’s angry, says firmly, “Evie, you don’t have to do this. I will protect you regardless of who you choose to be with. You need not fear that you will lose me as a guardian if you and Russell …”
My eyes widen as I realize he doesn’t believe me. “Reed,” I explain quickly, “I love Russell. I have a feeling that I’ve always loved Russell, and that I’ll always love Russell. But it doesn’t matter anymore how I feel about him because all of that is obscured now. You outshine everything, and I find that I only want to be with you.”
In an instant, Reed cuts the engine of the car and disappears from the driver’s seat. A half a second later, I jump, startling as my door opens.
With an apologetic grimace, he says, “Sorry,” while unbuckling my seatbelt and lifting me out of the car in one fluid motion.
In less than a second, we’re at the front door of the house; mere fractions after that, I’m in a room I haven’t been in yet. It’s a spacious bedroom, probably the master bedroom by the look of it. Reed sets me on my feet by the door, and I creep forward into his room. Gazing around me avidly, there is an enormous bed centered against the far wall. The other walls are lined with oil paintings in guided frames. There are also polished, gleaming bookshelves with row upon row of leather-bound books—probably works of art in their own right.
“Your room?” I ask, turning back to him where he stands leaning against the closed bedroom door watching me.
“Yes,” he replies. “I want to show you something.”
“You do?” I ask, smiling as I wander over to the bedside table.
My eyes roam lightly over an intricately carved statue that stands no higher than a foot tall. I pick it up, studying it. Allowing my fingertips to trace over the smooth, ash-white surface, I marvel at the detail and delicate lines of the lissome woman in repose on a Grecian chaise. She looks like a goddess, and there is something really familiar about the piece—the dress the woman wears in particular. As I focus on the statue’s face, recognition dawns me. It’s me! This is a carved statue of me.
“This is the dress I wore to sit for the portrait Mr. MacKinnon is doing!” I whisper.
