by Sarah Peters
All of a sudden I became alarmingly aware of how close we sat at the counter—the distance, heat, and position of his body, how our knees almost brushed.
My heart slammed back into action and I picked up my fork with an unsteady hand. I scooped the whipped cream off the top of the pie and into my mouth.
“You don’t believe me?” he sounded caustic, as if he’d known I wouldn’t believe him, and wasn’t that just so typical of me?
“It’s…” I grasped for a word like a cat clinging to a shower curtain seconds before it slid into a bathtub full of water. Internally, all sirens were going off, and something—likely my brain—seemed to be screaming. “It’s a bit unexpected.”
“Catherine.” His voice was soft, edged with exasperation. “Look at me.”
It took effort, preposterous effort, to lift my face and turn my head to face him. It had taken so much effort in fact, that I hadn’t realized he’d moved too, shifting closer to me.
He lifted a hand and brushed it along my jaw and curled his fingers into my hair as he leaned forward and pressed his lips against mine.
My brain fizzled and with a pop, went blank.
His lips brushed mine with the gentleness of snow settling on the petals of an early blooming flower, his fingers against my skin sending a thousand delicious tingles down my scalp and spine.
It was chaste, just the pressure of lips, until his tongue darted out and licked the side of my mouth. He pulled back, lowered his hand, and lifted an eyebrow at my dumbfounded expression. “You had whipped cream,” he explained, tapping the side of his perfect lips. “You’re a shockingly messy eater.”
“I don’t know why that would shock you,” I said, which was NOT AT ALL WHAT I WANTED TO SAY.
TOBIAS MONDAY KISSED ME. I HAD JUST BEEN KISSED BY TOBIAS MONDAY.
I inhaled and pressed my hands to my face, covering my eyes. “Oh my God,” I muttered. “What—I mean—how—what the hell do you mean, I stole your heart?????”
He didn’t say anything for a few seconds, not until I moved my hands off my face.
“Your eyes are two different colors,” he said, which was not the direction I’d expected him to go. “The left is darker than the right.”
Not many people noticed that. It was such a small difference.
I supposed he’d been close enough to notice when he’d swan-dived onto me under that table.
“They’re pretty. And you weren’t scared of me. Not under the table, and not even after your friends told you who I was. Not after we met at the Haven Hideaway, or in Lorraine Park, or even at the Falls.”
“Oh, I am terrified of you,” I blurted, quite honestly.
He snorted and gave me a look that I was certain I’d never seen from him before. His eyebrows and the lines around his eyes softened, his lips curving into an exasperated, fond smile, his moon-yellow eyes on me, and only me. I had the strong sensation that I was no longer quite in control of myself—like I was trying to steer a boat in stormy waters which accompanied the rising of the kraken. Wild and certain I had no actual control over anything that was happening, so why not just say screw it?
I grabbed his sleeve, desperation clawing with each encroaching wave. “Do I need to use my second wish to ask you to kiss me again?”
His sweet smile shifted into a smirk. “You do not. In fact, I advise holding onto your second wish for something I won’t give voluntarily.”
But, because he’s Tobias Monday and not a reasonable human being, he turned back to the counter and opened his menu instead of kissing me. “Do you recommend the rye melt?”
This feeling of my head whirling and my heart pounding and the clammy prickling in my hands and the alternating bursts of hot and cold zinging down my spine—I was definitely dying, right? Like, absolutely about to keel over from the blazing joy that seemed to be consuming me.
Hands shaking harder, I focused on my pumpkin pie. “I don’t like rye,” I said, “so I couldn’t tell you.”
I knew he was satisfied by my reaction. He enjoyed unsettling me far more anyone had any right to enjoy such a thing.
HE’D KISSED ME.
My fork clattered to the counter and I rounded on him. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN I STOLE YOUR HEART?!”
I hadn’t meant to shout it, and the whole diner went quiet. A few people laughed.
“Like a thief,” he said, his eyes on the menu, not me. “Shamelessly. And I, more the fool, looked the other way and let you take it.”
I had NOT pegged Tobias Monday to be a sappy romantic.
Bo might not watch romantic comedies.
But Tobias definitely did.
It made me heat up all over again and I forced my hands into fists in my lap to keep from reaching out, grabbing him, and shaking him. And then possibly kissing him. “But you said I had to return what I stole. Or you’d punish me.”
He finally looked at me, mischief curling in the corner of his smile. “I did, didn’t I? And, for that matter, I still need to carry out that breach of contract, since you’ve failed to return the stolen item.” His gaze shifted when the waiter stepped up to us. “I’ll just stick with water.”
“Why do I still feel like the victim in all this?” I grumbled. “Good gravy, ‘stole your heart’ what kind of sappy nonsense is that.”
“I warned you it wouldn’t be to your taste,” he said, and I felt his gaze on me, studying me. “You should’ve held onto your first wish to ask something else.”
My eyes lashed up to him in outrage. “And let you just keep that tiny little tidbit of SUPER IMPORTANT INFORMATION to yourself?!”
His jaw twitched, holding back his involuntary smile. Getting him to smile at me was as hard as trying to get a toddler to eat raw vegetables. He’d only smile on his terms, and rarely when I tried to surprise him into it.
It made his smiles all the more precious, all the sweeter for having won.
“I thought you hated me,” I continued, attacking my pumpkin pie with renewed fury. “You always acted so superior and so frosty and then you’d lift your stupid eyebrow and pretend you didn’t know what it does to me and I—" I shoved pie into my mouth to shut myself up.
His phone beeped, and he glanced down at the screen for a moment.
And because I was staring at him, I saw his expression shift and stiffen. His jaw relaxed but his lips tightened. A line appeared between his eyebrows. He slipped his phone into his pocket.
“And you don’t even let me call you Toby,” I concluded. I didn’t want him frowning. I wanted him to give me that fond, seductive look again.
“I hate being called Toby.” He rested an elbow on the counter and studied me. He shook his head at whatever the sight of me stirred inside him. “I still can’t believe you voluntarily walked into a diner and ordered milk.”
“I’m the heart-thief, I am capable of all manner of despicable acts and deviant crimes,” I retorted. I finished my pie. Nothing felt real yet. My head whirled and I reached unsteadily for my wallet. “I can’t believe you kissed me,” I muttered, more to myself.
He heard anyway. “It was worth it, just for your expression.” He slid cash across the counter. “Here. Pay with this.”
“You like a boyfriend or something now?” I asked. It came out sounding more like Gollum trying to answer Bilbo's riddle than the flirtatious, leading question I’d intended it to be, but we can’t all be winners.
He didn’t bother answering. “Do you still have the ring?”
I’d left it at home and told him as much. He didn’t look too bothered. In fact—
“We can complete our deal tonight, then.”
My brain short circuited. “By deal—”
“Flying, yes.”
OH MY GOD MY PROMISED FLIGHT.
I maybe screamed.
“’Ey—you noisy girl there! You one of them Wadell girls?” an elderly gentleman sitting at the nearest table demanded, giving me a stink eye.
“Name’s Kacey Alvaro,” I said. I looped my arm
through Tobias’ and practically dragged him out of the Field of Butter. “You’re really going to take me flying?”
“As long as you really give me the ring,” he said, but he seemed amused. He tugged our looped arms down the street. “I parked here.”
“Were you stalking me?” I wondered with interest. “Becca already thinks you’re creepy, and if you’re actually creepy it’s best for me to know now.”
“I was driving past and saw you get chased out of an antique store,” he said, lips twitching. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen the owner of that shop move so quickly before.” He stopped next to his car, and our eyes met.
We’d had moments like this before—suddenly still, charged moments where everything around me faded until I was only aware of him and his body and his beautiful eyes framed in those dark, dark lashes—but this time was different.
This time, he’d already kissed me.
“You brought this upon yourself,” I informed him, unlooping my arm.
I placed my hands on his shoulders and leaned up, brushing his lips with mine.
I’d had all intentions of leaving it at that, but Tobias had different ideas. His hands rested on my hips and he pulled us closer.
I’d been under the gross misconception that the best moment of my life was outrageously performing “Animal” with Tobias to a sea of swaying fey.
Kissing Tobias outside a diner on a busy downtown street was so so so much better.
I gripped his shoulders and he wrapped one arm under my backpack, the other twining in my hair, cupping my head softly.
He tasted the way his voice sounded, like the sensation of eating the sweetest, most decadent raspberry and chocolate cake with whipped cream frosting--- ok maybe I was craving cake, but I had a whipped cream problem and it wasn’t my fault Tobias reminded me of the most delicious thing in the world.
But for a stand-offish, mean looking fairy, he certainly knew his way around a kiss. His lips brushed mine, gentle but confident, his nose sliding against my cheek instead of bumping into mine, the icy-blast from his body searing even through all our layers, his hands as soft and firm as they’d been when we’d tangled under the table weeks ago.
I was sure I was messing it up—like, this was my first proper kiss with anything other than the back of my hand—and he was probably judging me for just taking it like a dead fish—or maybe he was laughing at me—or maybe he was regretting kissing me in the first place— I was on that little boat in the big waves again, watching in horror as the kraken ascended from the depths.
Screw it. #yolo or whatever it is kids these days say.
His arms around me tightened and I felt him inhale sharply when I slid my tongue against his, our kiss progressing from something chaste to something definitely inappropriate for children to see.
We pulled apart for half a second to catch our breaths and stared at each other. His pupils were huge like a cat’s in the dark, and I could only imagine how my own face looked. Probably had drool sliding down my open, stunned mouth.
“Lovely,” he murmured, leaning in but brushing his lips against my jaw, up to my ear.
“Me, or the day?” I hadn't known a person's tongue could do that to a neck, and I clung to him in case my legs gave out.
“The day,” he replied, sliding his hands up my back, under my backpack. "You," he whispered, relinquishing his amorous investigation of my neck to rest his forehead against mine, "are infuriating and astonishing."
I gave an unsteady laugh. “Same back at you.” My hands had somehow made their way around his shoulders, and one touched the back of his head, his hair soft and silky against my fingers. “So now what?”
“Now,” he said, closing his eyes momentarily, “I take you home. I’ll come by around 9, once it’s dark enough outside to fly without being seen. Have the ring ready.”
A screech burst our bubble. “CATHERINE ELOISE WADELL WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”
We jumped apart like the two guilty teenagers we were, and I stumbled against the side of his car, my eyes swiveling until they fastened on the very unwelcome sight of my older sister charging towards us.
“Oh heck,” I groaned. My legs wavered, but instinct won out. I am many things, but brave is not one of them. “Ok see you, bye.” I shot Tobias an apologetic grin and bolted.
Meg was not that easily deterred.
“STOP RIGHT THERE,” she yelled, pounding after me. “WERE YOU KISSING A BOY IN PUBLIC?!”
“Ab-Absolutely not!” I hunched my shoulders and put on a renewed burst of speed.
But I couldn’t stop the incandescently, stupidly happy grin that stretched my mouth wide.
I didn’t have a phone, or a job, or a passing grade in Chemistry, but none of that mattered.
Tobias Monday liked me.
Tobias Monday liked me.
Flight Night
True to his word, Tobias Monday rolled into my driveway at 8:59pm.
“Who’s that?!” Ellie demanded, peering between the blinds with suspicion.
“Go to bed, young lady,” Mom said, not looking up from the 9pm news.
“Yeah,” I agreed, “go to bed young lady.” I strolled past her, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible in my sweatshirt and jacket. I had Evil Pumpkin Baby’s wand stuffed in the pocket of my sweatshirt, and the ring protected in one of my jacket’s pockets. “I’m going out for a smoke, bbl.”
“You are so weird,” Ellie grumbled, shoving past me. “Mom! Cat’s doing drugs now!”
“GO TO BED,” Mom shouted, not turning around.
I gave Ellie a thumb’s up in response to her middle finger and hurried to the front door before Tobias could get any ideas about ringing the doorbell.
I slipped outside and nearly bumped into him on the front step.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hello,” he replied.
I recalled our two kisses. Automatically, my eyes gravitated to my feet and I realized I couldn’t look up. How do you look at a boy who’s told you that you stole his heart?!
“Have the ring?”
“Have the wings?” I replied, shifting my awkward gaze from my feet to his.
He didn’t reply.
Instead he sighed and muttered something uncomplimentary under his breath, no doubt in awe of my awesome powers of comedy.
Despite the weirdness between us, I couldn’t stop myself from bouncing once in the car and on our way.
He turned onto Edgar Ave and headed north, away from downtown, taking us over the bridge and then along the Parkway Loop on the river’s northern bank.
It felt dreamlike when he finally pulled to a stop outside gleaming, ornate metal gates which proclaimed Silveridge Academy could be found beyond. I knew the school sat on the bluffs overlooking the river but hadn’t realized this was his intended destination. The whole street was wooded and illuminated only by periodic, antique-looking streetlamps.
“Are we still in the twenty-first century?” I whispered. Could fairies time-travel? Something I’d need to ask Finn later.
“It’s more secluded here,” he said, turning off his car. “Better for flying.”
I managed to contain my squeal of unadulterated delight and hopped out of the car. I scampered to his side and beamed. “This is probably the very best day of my life,” I declared, hands clasped together over my lips. I recalled what he’d done to those lips and closed my eyes, effervescent elation momentarily making me unsteady.
He took off his glamor and stretched out his leathery bat wings. They reached farther than I’d imagined, huge and ominous and fascinating.
I touched the top of one before he could stop me. It felt as soft as his skin.
“Put your arms around my neck,” he instructed, twitching the wing out of my reach. He stepped close to me, close enough to kiss me, but only wrapped his arms around me, one under my left arm, the other wrapped around my waist. “It’s not easy to carry a person, but I can do a short flight. So hold on tight. You won’t hurt me.”<
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I could feel the muscles of his back flex underneath my arms, and I gripped tighter when we lifted a few feet off the ground. I crossed my legs around his waist before I really knew what I was doing, and with a huff (either of amusement or exertion) he shifted the arm holding me from around my waist down to prop up my butt. I buried my face into his shoulder and tried not to laugh at the thought of Tobias Monday touching my bottom.
“You’re not even looking at the view,” he scolded, his cheek against my hair.
I lifted my head and bit my lip to hold back the scream which threatened to burst out BECAUSE OH MY MIGHTY MERCURY, I WAS FLYING.
We rose over the treetops, and Butterfield spread before us—and yes, alright, Silveridge blocked most of the view—but I saw the silvery dark glint of the river and beyond it, the myriad lights organized into grids and lines of my favorite town in the country.
Tobias’ wings beat heavily, and his arms tightened around me as he started moving forward instead of up, flapping over the forest, looping around the school while slowly gaining elevation.
He circled Silveridge (and it is only with Great Begrudging that I admit how impressive and lovely the campus looked from the sky) and finally leaned in towards the building. He dropped onto a relatively flat part of the shingled roof and tapped my bottom. “You can let go now,” he advised, amused. Still, he kept one hand around my waist, steadying me as I found my footing. With a sardonic shake of his head, he rotated me so I looked out over the wide river and at Butterfield proper beyond.
I didn’t speak for a few seconds. Funny, really, how breathtaking and wondrous someplace so mundane could look from fifty feet up. The prairie stretched beyond Butterfield to the west, dark and wide and open, and to the north, crowded woods separated Butterfield from Greenville. Above us, stars and planets blinked in a vast sky.
“It’s nice,” I eventually managed.
Nice was a small, nothing word.
This was amazing.
I twisted in his arms, enough to look up at his face. He met my eyes, and lifted his other hand, brushing his knuckles over my hair, down my neck, lingering on my collarbone before catching the cord of my sweatshirt and twisting it between his fingers, almost distractedly. He let go of the cord and turned away. “The view is best like this.” He sat down on the edge of the roof and beckoned me over.
