by Carey Corp
The doorbell rings, a jarring clang that halts our activity for a split second before we switch into turbo-action mode. Steven and I jump to our feet simultaneously while Kate pops her head out of the kitchen lamenting, “He’s early.”
Waving me off, Steven sprints to the door, declaring, “I’ll get it.”
Before turning the knob, he stiffens. His demeanor is suddenly stern—nearly fatherly—and I briefly wonder if he’s going to produce a shotgun and proceed to clean it during dinner. Wiping her hands on her apron, Kate emerges from the kitchen and motions for me to join her. Her hand squeezes my shoulder in what I can only assume is meant to be support, but in her nervous enthusiasm the grip’s too tight. Oddly, I find the pain reassuring.
Standing off to the side of the front door next to my foster mom, I hear her gasp as Gabriel enters the room. Dressed in a beige wool turtleneck and cords the color of summer wheat, he’s stunning. The pale fabric emphasizes the light streaks in his hair. His eyes, the blue of a perfect summer sky, are alight with joy as he steps gracefully into the room. A light fragrance—something clean, fresh and outdoorsy, tantalizes my nose—Gabriel’s unique scent.
Certainly, I can understand Kate’s response to the epitome of teenaged beauty filling the small entryway. Given her initial reaction, it’s good she can’t see the nearly blinding halo that accompanies him. Now that I know who and what he really is, Gabriel no longer tries to dim his halo to an inconspicuous level. Although not the fully unrestrained glory he’s capable of, he’s still glorious enough that I have to resist the urge to shield my eyes.
As his brilliance radiates in the confined space, my heart speeds up expectantly. Despite the automatic biological reaction, my body infuses with the warmth and peace of his calming presence.
Knowing I should handle the introductions, I stand open-mouthed and useless; too dazzled and nervous to be a good hostess. Luckily, Steven steps forward. When he introduces his wife, Gabriel presents her with a large mixed bouquet bursting with purples and yellows. “For you, Ma’am.” As she takes it, murmuring her thanks, he deftly plucks a single pink rose from the center and hands it to me. “For you, Alex.”
Still dazed, Kate reaches for the rose. “Why don’t I take that for you? I’ll put it in water. Dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes, so just relax and enjoy yourselves. I hope you like lamb, Gabriel. It’s my specialty. My father worked in England for a number of years and lamb became a favorite of his, so I learned to cook it for special occasions. Not that this is a special occasion—I mean—not that it’s not special having you over—I mean—oh, gosh—I’m babbling, aren’t I?”
I’ve never seen Kate so flustered. With an amused smile, Steven places a gentle hand under her elbow, suggesting, “Why don’t I give you a hand in the kitchen, dear?” As he leads her off, she’s still babbling under her breath.
When they’re out of earshot, I turn to Gabriel with huge eyes. “What did you do to her?”
Shrugging he says, “Beats me.” But his smile’s so affecting that I’ve a hard time believing him.
Unable to think coherently, I stammer, “We made a fire.”
Turning toward the living room, I feel Gabriel’s heat wash over my back as he follows. Gingerly perching on the edge of the formal chair, I watch him sit on the closest end of the sofa with fluid grace. Some uncontrollable urge prompts me to hunch forward and whisper in a pained, confidential tone, “I’m really sorry. I’m sure this isn’t in the job description. If you want to leave, I’ll understand.”
“Don’t be silly, Alexia. There’s only one place I want to be and that’s wherever you are.” His eyes are liquid, rippling like the sea. As I watch, a rogue wave of anguish flows across them and then vanishes as quickly as it appears.
“Why do I get the feeling there’s even more you’re not telling me? Beyond the assignment and the guardian thing, there’s something else. But I don’t know what it is.”
His face turns somber as he leans closer, close enough I can feel the stir of his breath against my suddenly dry lips. “You’re so perceptive. With you, it’s like I’m an open book. You read me so easily and see the things I try to hide. I don’t want to hide anymore. I want—” He takes a ragged breath, his eyes flickering to my mouth. “I want—”
“So are you a football fan, Gabriel?” Steven’s ill-timed entrance causes us both to jerk upright in our seats. My chest hitches painfully because the moment has been ripped in two, and for a spell I can do nothing more than battle my runaway rollercoaster of emotions. When I manage to regain some control, I glance at Gabriel for a sign we’ll continue later where we’ve left off, but he just stares at the dancing fire, his face an indecipherable mask.
Stephen sits at the far end of the sofa, and for the next half hour, he and Gabriel discuss sports while I stew over the near confession ripped from my grasp. After revealing his divine nature, the fact he’s a greater Seraph, I’ve got no clue what secrets he could still be keeping… nor why they’d cause him such agony, but I’m desperate to find out.
As I sit across from Gabriel at dinner, making small talk and forcing tiny bits of lamb around the lump in my throat, I continue to search for a sign that our earlier conversation will resume in private. But Gabriel gives away nothing. Whatever secrets he was about to share have been pushed down deep enough that I worry I’ve missed my chance.
I’m so consumed by my thoughts I nearly miss the news Kate drops on me. It registers she’s looking at me expectantly, waiting for a reply, but what she’s just said is a total mystery. “I’m sorry. What?”
A patient smile on her pixie-ish face, she repeats, “I said my mother is coming for the holidays.”
A small frown pulls at my features. Having little experience around elderly people, I never feel comfortable in their presence. The Fosters seem pleased and anxious at the same time which leads me to believe there’s more to the story than what Kate’s sharing. “Which holiday?” I ask, keeping my voice neutral as best I can. “Thanksgiving or Christmas?”
“Both, really.” Then in answer to my confusion, she explains, “Thanksgiving through Christmas.”
My response is cautious. “Okay.”
“She wanted to meet you sooner but I thought you could use some adjustment time.” What Kate’s really referring to by “adjustment time” is my acceptance of them. My recent decision to unpack my bags and stay. My stomach’s already knotting with anxiety, but I paste on a bright smile for Kate’s sake. “It’s fine.”
“Good. I’d really like you two to get to know each other.” Kate’s halo bubbles up around her in intoxicating swirls.
“Okay, sure.” I can’t help but glance over at Gabriel, who meets my eyes with stalwart reassurance. If Kate’s mom turns out to be a dragon in the flesh, it helps to know I’ve got my very own beast-slaying knight—metaphorically, at least.
“You’ll like her, Alex.” This is Steven’s attempt to reassure. “I mean, I like her, and she’s my mother-in-law.” He rolls his eyes and I can’t help but smile. Make that two knights.
“So, Gabriel,” Steven drawls out his words, his eyes narrowing into shrewd slits, and for a moment I get a flash of the other Steven, the professional ruler of the corporate world. “What do your parents do?”
“My mom’s the marketing director of a billion dollar brand and my dad’s a freelance editor. And what do you do, Sir?”
“Finance manager.”
Gabriel nods approvingly, “And you, Ma’am?”
“She’s a translator,” I interject. Although I may not understand what Steven does, I get Kate’s job. “She works with international adoptions and also consults with law enforcement when needed.”
Gabriel’s eyes sparkle. “What languages do you speak?”
Kate glances modestly at her plate, her cheeks turning pink under Gabriel’s attention. “Spanish mostly. But also French, Italian, Russian and most other Eastern European languages.”
“Wow!” Gabriel flashes me an
impressed glance, before returning his focus to Kate. “You must be truly gifted to speak so many languages.”
She shrugs. “Languages have always come easily to me. I’m just glad I can use my skills to help unite children with loving families.”
“She’s learning Chinese.” I can’t help but feel proud and a little awed at her ability. “She listens to it in her car and her pronunciation sounds just like the instructor. She’s amazing.”
“I don’t know about that.” Conscious of all of us beaming at her, she begins gathering plates. “Is everyone ready for dessert?”
Over chocolate cheesecake and fresh strawberries, Kate regains her composure. Clearing her throat—a tell-tale sign she’s heading into uncomfortable territory—she asks, “So, uh, how did you two meet?”
Choking with surprise, I stare helplessly at Gabriel. Without hesitation, he answers, “My locker is above hers.”
Gabriel’s answer is smooth and I think we’re in the clear, until Steven freezes mid-bite. His quick mind recalls something that causes his eyes to bug out slightly from his head and he makes a small, strangled sound. “You—you were responsible for her neck?”
I’ve forgotten all about my first day of school and the lies I told to them about the bruising on my throat. Blaming it on a locker incident rather than an attack, it now looks like Gabriel was the perpetrator rather than my rescuer. My heart starts to hammer. My mouth goes dry. All I can do is stare down at the table and wait.
“It was entirely my fault, Sir.” Gabriel’s sincerity has me jerking up to gape open-mouthed at him as he continues. He’s answering Steven, but focusing on me, his luminous eyes shimmering with remorse. “I didn’t move fast enough and I’m so sorry. I will never let it happen again. I swear.”
I believe him, because he’s my guardian. And because he means what he promises. And mostly, because I trust him with my life.
Once Steven has calmed down and we finish Kate’s gourmet meal, it’s time for Gabriel to go. After the appropriate thanks, I walk Gabriel to the door, trying to ignore my cramping stomach as the food I’ve just eaten congeals into knots. From behind me I hear Kate whisper in a voice meant for us to overhear, “Alex’s boyfriend is very nice.”
Flinching, I follow him out onto the porch. My cheeks burn as I stammer, “I’m sorry about that. We’re just friends, and I’ll make sure they understand that.”
Looking out into the night Gabriel gives no acknowledgement he has heard this, so I wait in awkward silence for him to speak. I’m afraid he won’t pick up where he left off in the living room—and afraid he will. Suddenly he turns to face me, a storm raging in his eyes.
But all he says is “The Fosters are nice.”
“Yes.”
He makes no move to leave, his eyes continuing to flicker with some internal struggle. He looks younger in that moment, more vulnerable, somehow. Reaching for my hand, he takes my fingers in his. Lifting my hand to his mouth, he brushes his satiny lips against my fingertips, a butterfly kiss, and then presses my fingers to my blushing cheek.
Quietly, he muses, “I think you’ve got things backwards.”
Completely confused, I stare until he elaborates in a strained voice, “The second day I walked you home, you asked how I knew you needed a friend. Maybe I’m the one who needs you.”
There’s so much to ask, but without warning he turns away, hurrying down the path to the street. When he gets to the end, he falters and then stops. Turning around, he comes back up the walk in long purposeful strides, his face tucked toward his chest so I can’t read his expression.
Afraid of interrupting, I wait in agonized silence as Gabriel stops just short of the porch. Kicking absently at the lowest step with his foot, he watches his shoe as he speaks. “I think I could protect you better if I was your boyfriend.” When his eyes flash up to my face they’re veiled. “Think about it and let me know in the morning.” Pivoting like a soldier, he walks away, leaving me to stare at his retreating form, my mouth open, catching flies.
What the hell am I supposed to say to that? Knock yourself out? I mean it’s not exactly what girls dream about when they imagine getting their first boyfriend. But I don’t want a boyfriend, I remind myself. I want—need—answers!
Find Derry. Avoid the darkness until I’m no longer a minor. Keep control of my life. Do not fall in love!
Shaking my head vigorously, I try to wipe the bitter thoughts from my mind. Alex doesn’t dream about boyfriends and romantic gestures flowing with romantic words. It shouldn’t make any difference to me. But I’m not really Alex, not anymore—but I’m not Alexia either. At this point, I’m no longer sure who I am.
*
The next morning, I practically shove my backpack at Gabriel. My assent comes out unintentionally sharp. “Fine.”
Gabriel flinches as if stung. “Are you mad at me?”
“No.” With a shrug I brush past him, stomping down the walkway at a determined pace.
“Yes, you are—you’re mad.” He catches up with me easily, reaching out and gently pulling at my arm until I’ve got no choice but to stop and let him read my face. Gravely he studies my eyes, trying to mask the hurt I’m causing him—but I notice it anyway. “Don’t you want me to be your boyfriend?” he asks.
With a small huff, I roll my eyes in exasperation. “I said it was fine, didn’t I?” Needing to move, I turn back to the sidewalk in front of me. “It’s just pretense anyway, right?”
He doesn’t answer this, but instead threads his fingers through mine. His hand feels warm and real, and I have the inexplicable urge to cry about it. Instead, I pick up my pace until I’m almost pulling him along, muttering, “Now we’re going to be late.”
We arrive in plenty of time, but I go straight to class anyway. The first part of the morning passes in a blur. Gabriel keeps trying to hold my hand in the halls, but it feels too real, which in turn triggers a hollowness in my chest because it’s only for show. He said himself—by posing as my boyfriend he can protect me better. Since that’s his purpose—his entire reason for being on earth—I can’t say no. And I don’t really want to deny him, even if it’s just for pretend. Because, maybe I want to pretend, too—make believe our interlaced fingers are real and he truly does want to be with me in that way.
After Biology, Naomi ducks her head into the classroom, presumably to corner Gabriel. She’s made a big deal of the fact they share the same fourth period history class and I don’t. The class empties quickly, until just the three of us are left.
“Gabriel.” Naomi always utters his name with a certain breathiness behind it. I think she means it to be sexy, but to me it just sounds ridiculous. I busy myself by searching around in my backpack, resenting her stupid intrusion. Usually I find her laughable, but today I want to scratch her eyes out.
“I was hoping we could walk to History together,” she coos, while I bite my lower lip against my violent impulses until the sting of pain placates me.
“Sorry.” His eyes meet mine apologetically as he reaches to shoulder my bag and I can’t help notice how Naomi skitters back a few steps in reaction. “I’ve got to walk my girlfriend to Government.”
Her perfectly shaped brows shoot up in disbelief. She looks from Gabriel to me and back again before fixing her hands to her hips. “Your girlfriend? You’re going out with her?”
“Yep.” As if to emphasize his reply, he lets both our bags drop to the floor. The resulting thud reverberates throughout the empty space. He is fearsome, his face severe and determined as he reaches for my hand.
Before I can process his actions, he pulls me toward him and I feel his perfect lips press abruptly against mine. Although I know it’s merely a show for Naomi’s benefit, he feels warm—supple and electric against my mouth. Unable to stifle my surprise, my lips part in a small gasp.
In response to my movement, his restraint vanishes with a soft groan. His mouth opens to me and I feel the tiniest flicker of his tongue against my teeth. My eyes close of thei
r own volition as Gabriel’s hands twine behind my back, fisting with lightly exquisite pain into my hair. My heart races in my chest in anticipation of what’s ahead and in reaction to the exploration already begun.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I register Naomi’s clompy retreat. As if from far away, I hear the click of the door as it shuts behind her, cutting Gabriel and me off from the rest of school. Alone, the deserted classroom becomes our oasis as we cling to one another.
Tasting faintly of mint he deepens the kiss, turning my knees to jelly. Heat’s radiating off him in waves, like the scorching midday sun off the white sands of a tropical beach. And I melt into his heat, clinging to him and kissing him back with everything in me.
Suddenly the room spins and he’s pressed me against the wall, holding me in place with the lower half of his body. My hips are pinned fast, restrained by his sharp angles and burning from contact despite layers of fabric. Our kiss takes on a life all its own, Gabriel’s hands caressing my face, as if learning me by touch. They slide over my cheeks, my jaw, my brow, my neck… My fingers are moving also, feeling the prominent bones and compact muscles that make up the planes of his chest.
Frenzied, he takes until I have nothing left, and then replenishes me, filling me with his essence until I think I’ll burst. My hands slip under his t-shirt, my nails clutching his back in a way that will leave territorial marks on his skin.
As our mouths continue their exploratory dance, I’m overwhelmed by the sensation my molecules are evaporating into the atmosphere one by one. I’m being undone until there’s no longer any sense of Alex or Alexia—the only thing that exists is Gabriel’s kiss.
I have no idea how much later it is when I come to my senses. Minutes? Eons? But the room’s deserted except for Gabriel panting into the crook of my neck and my own gasping breath thundering in the silence. My hands shake as I cradle his head, holding him against me while we catch our breath. In my breast, longing, aching and poignant for this boy I now hold, overwhelms all else. And I wonder if you can die of happiness…
