“Why do you want to find her?” Annabelle asks quietly.
Sighing, I pull Annabelle against my chest. “I don’t want to see her again. I don’t care if she ever actually loved me or if it was all an act. It doesn’t matter if she’s sorry for what she did or if she’s just waiting around to do it again. I want to put her out of my mind forever, but I can’t, Annabelle.”
Annabelle pushes back from me and meets my gaze. “Can you really not wonder about those things? You want to find her, but you think seeing her again won’t affect you? What if seeing her again actually answers all those questions? What will you do if you get the answers?”
“What do you mean?”
Placing her hand against my cheek, Annabelle sighs. “What if Ivy tells you that she does still love you, that she’s sorry for everything and wants you back? What would you do?”
I close my eyes slowly as Annabelle’s words force me to think. “I know there is no future with Ivy,” I say finally. “This is not about winning her back or anything like that. I do want to know why she would choose her Eroi beliefs over mine and my family’s lives, but I have more important questions, more important goals. I need to know why this war has us pitted against each other in the first place. It shouldn’t be like this.”
“How should it be?” Annabelle asks.
Shaking my head, I touch my forehead gently against hers. “I don’t know how it should be. I just know that this isn’t right. This isn’t the way we were meant to live. I don’t know how I know that, but I can feel it. There’s a better way, and I can fix it. We can fix it, if we can just figure out where things went wrong.”
For a long time, we sit motionless in the silence. I don’t want to move, despite the ache beginning to form in my legs from kneeling like this. Annabelle slowly lets her hand fall away from my face to settle over my heart. A sense of warmth spreads through my chest at her touch and I look down, expecting to see her hands glowing. When I don’t, I realize it’s just her physical touch that warmed me.
“Annabelle,” I say, barely more than a whisper, “you’re not just a tool to me. I care about you more than I can tell you. I don’t even know how to explain the effect you have on me, but please don’t ever fear that I’ll throw you away. You’re too amazing and special for that to ever happen.”
I don’t wait for Annabelle to say something before pulling her fully into my arms and pressing a kiss to her cheek. She seems stunned for a moment, but it doesn’t take long for her to cinch her arms around my middle.
Annabelle pulls back slowly a while later and says, “I’m going to keep helping you.”
“Why?” I can’t help asking.
“Because I think you’re right,” she says. Then her lips twist into a devilish smile that makes me want to laugh. “And because I would hate for David to think he won anything.”
My smile falters. “I’m so sorry for what happened tonight.”
“It’s okay.” Annabelle sits back on the couch and motions for me to join her. When I move out of her way, she gathers up all the loose papers from our research and sets them in a stack next to her laptop. When she turns back to me, I question her with a look. She reaches for the remote and turns on the TV.
Annabelle leans back and snuggles against me. “Why don’t we take a break tonight? Just hang out?”
I recognize immediately that she is testing me. I told her that my relationship with her wasn’t just based on finding Ivy. She wants me to prove it to her now. Luckily, I don’t have a problem with that. Shifting slightly, I reach my arm around Annabelle’s shoulders and tug her against my chest. “That sounds great,” I say.
Grinning, Annabelle brings up the guide and starts flicking through the programs available. “What do you want to watch?”
I shrug. “You choose. I don’t even know what there is. We’re not really allowed to watch TV.” I pause, thinking about that. “Hey, you aren’t supposed to be watching TV either. Right?”
Annabelle laughs. At first, it’s just a little chuckle, but she can’t seem to stop herself. I look down in confusion. “What is so funny?”
“Sorry, sorry,” she says through her laughter. “It just cracks me up that you’re lecturing me about the rules.”
I start to say something about how I always follow the rules, but my mouth snaps shut of its own accord. I may trick people at school into thinking I’m the poster boy for perfection, but Annabelle knows the truth. She just agreed to help me break a direct order from David and I’m sure half a dozen other rules. I shake my head.
“Yeah, I can see how that would be ironic.”
Annabelle chuckles again. “It is kinda funny.”
I nudge her, but there’s no malice behind it. “I really have no idea what shows are on, though. That does happen to be one of the few rules I don’t break. To be honest, I don’t really know how I’ll react. It might not be the best idea.”
“Zander, you won’t always be able to avoid TV and music that might stir up your hunger. At the compound, we do actually work on desensitizing ourselves to it. We’re still expected to stay away from anything we know will cause a problem, but we can’t run and hide every time we see a TV,” Annabelle says. “Why don’t we call this a test run? I’ll start off with something easy. Let’s see.”
Annabelle scans through the TV listings looking for something she deems tame enough for me to watch. I feel a little childish as I sit there. I’ve never felt like I had to be handled with kid gloves before. It’s a weird feeling, yet it means a lot to me that Annabelle is willing to work around my limitations.
“Okay, how about this one? It’s supposed to be funny,” Annabelle says. “I haven’t seen it, but it looked like it was going to be hilarious when I saw previews for it.”
“Uh, okay.” Comedy should be safe enough.
Annabelle selects the show and curls against my chest. She seems comfortable, but I don’t miss the slight amount of tension in her shoulders. I hold her close, concentrating, trying to figure out whether she’s nervous about her show choice, or just about me. Maybe I didn’t clear her doubts like I thought. My questions distract me from the show until Annabelle starts giggling every few minutes.
Slowly, my attention is drawn back to the movie and, after a while, I’m laughing along with her. The movie is halfway over before I feel the tension in Annabelle’s shoulders melt away. She readjusts to get more comfortable and places her palm under her head, squishing it between her cheek and my chest. That same warming sensation spreads over me, and I smile.
I turn my attention back to the movie. I don’t know who any of the actors are, but I wouldn’t mind watching more of their work. I sit contentedly with Annabelle until the movie starts to change its focus. I don’t notice right away when the jokes thin out and the tenor becomes more serious. By the time the two main characters meet in an emotional scene, I’m too consumed by the storyline to realize I should stop watching.
The actress draws her hands down her boyfriend’s chest. I can see her breathing pick up as she unbuttons his shirt. She barely makes it to the last button before he crushes his lips against hers. The trail of clothing they leave behind on their way to the bedroom is like a shot of adrenaline straight to my hunger.
Before I can do or say anything, Annabelle pops away from me. “Zander? What’s wrong? I can feel your hunger rising.”
Desperately, I close my eyes and try to focus on shoving my hunger away. There’s nothing for it to feed on! It’s just the intensity of the emotions from the movie that woke it up. That’s why I’m not supposed to watch TV! I growl at myself in frustration. I knew better! My hunger begs to me do something to satisfy it, but I don’t even know what it wants! The usual desire for pain isn’t there. I don’t understand, and I don’t know how to calm it back down.
Annabelle crowds in next to me, her hands pressing against my chest. Her touch immediately ignites something inside of me. I grab her shoulders and try to shove her away from me. “Zander, I can help
,” she says in a panic.
“No,” I growl. “You touching me…it’s making it worse.”
“But I…” Annabelle stops talking as her eyes flit back to the TV. She seems to make the connection then, and her eyes widen. “Zander, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for the show to set off your hunger. I should have listened to you.”
“It’s okay,” I say as I close my eyes again and try to focus. My hands curl into fists with the effort. I hear the soft rustle of movement, but I try to tune it out. I do such a good job, I jump when Annabelle’s fingers brush my shoulders.
“I can help,” she says quickly. “Just hold still.”
“No,” I beg as my hunger roils again.
Annabelle pushes my shoulders away from the back of the couch. “Trust me,” she says.
I do trust her. I do trust her.
Her fingertips touch lightly at the top of my shoulders and start trailing down my back with gentle pressure. “Breathe out,” she instructs.
I do as she says, though it doesn’t come easily. When she reaches the waistband of my jeans, she changes directions and starts dragging her fingers up my back. “Inhale.”
Again, I try to do as she says. My breath comes in haltingly, but it comes. Each pass she makes up and down my back, my lungs expand more willingly. Each pass tucks a little more of my hunger away. I don’t know how long it takes before I am finally in control of myself again, but the movie we were watching is long since over.
Slowly, I reach over my shoulder and catch one of Annabelle’s hands. She sighs in relief and uncurls herself from behind me, where she has been wedged for the last who knows how long. She starts to step off the couch, but I grab her wrist and gently pull her down to my lap. “Thank you,” I say.
She shakes her head. “Don’t thank me. It was my fault it happened in the first place. I didn’t take you seriously when you said a movie might set you off. It’s been a long time since TV affected me that much.”
“It wasn’t just the movie,” I say as I watch the subtle changes in her expression.
“Oh… well, I’m sorry for that too, then.” Annabelle’s lips turn up. “Well, maybe not that sorry.”
I frown at her comment, worry filling my mind. “Maybe I should go.”
Annabelle looks at me seriously. “Does it scare you, thinking you might actually like me as more than a friend?”
“More than I can tell you,” I admit.
“Why?”
“I’m afraid of hurting you, Annabelle.” I let my head fall back against the couch. “You know what happened the last two times I even came close to sex.” My head pops back up. “Not that I’m suggesting or assuming anything.”
Annabelle lays her head against my shoulder. “I’m scared too, Zander, but not of you. You aren’t going to hurt me physically.”
“How do you know?” I ask.
“You think human schools are the only ones that rope teenagers into sex education?” She chuckles softly. “Yes, hunger gets involved in something that intense, but it’s different.”
I stop and think about what she said. “It was different,” I say quietly. “My hunger didn’t want me to hurt you. I don’t know what it wanted.” I shake my head in frustration. “But what about with Lisa and Ivy?”
“Zander, what happened with Lisa was right after you turned sixteen. You shouldn’t have even been allowed to be alone with her at that time. After our hunger erupts, it’s like we’ve joined a Tibetan monastery for six months. The tiniest thing can set you off. Just kissing her would have roused your hunger and sent it over the edge.” Annabelle watches me with compassion in her eyes. “And Ivy was Richiamos. You can’t base anything off what happened with her.”
I sigh, still frustrated. “Fine, but you can understand why this whole topic freaks me out, right?”
“Of course I do,” she says.
Her gentle understanding only makes my embarrassment worse. I close my eyes and press my palms into my eye sockets. Nothing even happened between Annabelle and me tonight! The movie got my hunger riled up, and one innocent touch from her sent me reeling. We weren’t even close to kissing, let alone anything else. I feel like an idiot causing such a mess when nothing even happened. Here I am, this six-foot-three football player who could crush anyone with barely a thought, and I’m scared to death of getting intimate with anyone for fear of accidentally killing them.
“Zander,” Annabelle says quietly, “do you want to leave? I understand if you do.”
Taking a deep breath, I open my eyes and face her. I’m struck in that moment by how beautiful she is. The soft waves of her auburn hair frame her freckled skin perfectly. Her violet eyes, so filled with concern, pull me in with no desire to escape. It’s not just her appearance, though. The beauty of her soul overpowers everything else. I touch her cheek gently. “No, I don’t want to go home.”
Annabelle smiles warmly. She switches off the TV and simply curls up in my arms. “I don’t want you to go either.”
The peace Annabelle always seems to inspire wraps itself around us, lulling me toward a deep calm that feels both foreign and comfortable. I am so busy contemplating the feeling, that I don’t realize Annabelle has fallen asleep in my arms until her breathing is slow and even. I sigh when I realize it must be getting late.
I contemplate getting up, but moving away from Annabelle sounds rather unappealing. I brush her hair back from her face and smile. She is so beautiful, so different from most of the girls I see every day at school. Where the majority of girls her age spend hours debating their clothes and makeup, Annabelle keeps things simple. Her makeup enhances her beauty instead of overpowering it. Strict guidelines imposed by the Godlings keeps her clothing modest, but she is somehow more appealing because of it.
Thoughts of Annabelle’s body covered by her sweater and jeans bring up a strange train of thoughts. Oscar, of all things, pops into my head. Our last conversation before I went to the Godling compound fills my mind. He shared with me how his friend, Emily, told him about her boyfriend, Paola, who turned out to be a Godling, and the man who supposedly tried to help him. I remember the tattoo the false friend had on his chest.
Thinking about the tattoo Oscar described, something vaguely snake shaped, makes me curious if the Godling dress code has more than one purpose. My fingers tremble as they trail down from Annabelle’s cheek to the neckline of her sweater. The V-neck adheres to the code, but just barely. The tip of my finger touches the edge of her sweater, but freezes in fear.
What if I find it? I sit, poised to uncover the truth, for several long minutes, my breathing escalating with each passing second. Part of me doesn’t want to know, but my fear isn’t strong enough to overpower my need for the truth. Slowly, I pull back the knitted fabric. My breath stutters in my chest as I reveal her creamy white skin, completely unblemished by ink. The air rushes out of my lungs as I cradle Annabelle against my chest in relief. I know this doesn’t clear every Godling, but it proves this one precious girl is pure.
Carefully, I lift Annabelle and carry her toward her tiny bedroom. I am pulling a blanket over her sleeping form when buzzing from my phone nearly startles me right out of my skin. I grimace when I see my home phone number pop up along with the time. I’ve missed my eleven o’clock curfew by half an hour.
“Grandma, I’m sorry,” I say as I hurry toward the living room. I only make it as far as Annabelle’s bedroom door, though.
“Where are you?” she demands. “Are you still at Annabelle’s?”
“Yes. I’m sorry. I lost track of the time. David broke into her apartment earlier tonight and scared the hell out of her. She was pretty upset. I didn’t want to leave her alone.” I glance back at Annabelle’s bed. “I still don’t.”
Silence on the other end of the call emboldens me. “Grandma, would you mind if I stayed? Annabelle is already asleep. I just want to make sure she’s alright tonight.”
She doesn’t answer right away. When she does, I can hear the weakness in her
argument. “It’s a school night, Zander. You don’t have any clothes for tomorrow.”
“I’ll run by the house in the morning,” I say, knowing she has already agreed. “Thanks, Grandma.”
She sighs and doesn’t try to argue. “Just don’t make a habit of this.”
“If David won’t, neither will I.”
I end the call after that and hold it in my hand. My eyes dart between the couch and Annabelle’s bed. I know which one I should choose under normal circumstances. I don’t really consider this a normal circumstance, though. My grandma didn’t agree to me staying the night at Annabelle’s apartment because she trusts nothing will happen between the two of us. Just like David, it’s the exact opposite. She wants me to fall for Annabelle and forget Ivy completely.
I know I’m using their fears as an excuse to do what I want, but I’m not stupid enough to let this pass me by. Kicking my shoes off, I set my phone on Annabelle’s dresser and walk over to her. I was worried that my phone call might have woken her, but as I sit down on the edge of the bed I see she is still fast asleep.
I feel bad waking her, but I also don’t want to assume she’d be okay with waking up to find me next to her. I brush a few strands of hair away from her face and whisper her name. Her eyes flutter open immediately.
“Zander?”
“Do you mind if… if I stay tonight?”
Annabelle blinks slowly. “No,” she says. “I don’t mind.”
My next question of where I should sleep is answered when she takes my hands and pulls me down next to her. I fall into bed beside Annabelle and pull her against my chest, feeling more at home than I have ever felt before.
Chapter Twenty-Three: The Black Room
(Vanessa)
My. Life. Sucks. That phrase repeats on a loop in my head twenty-four-seven. I want to curl up in a ball and pretend I don’t exist. Disappearing would be bliss right now. If I dropped off the face of the planet, I wouldn’t have David breathing down my neck every second about training and every single detail of my personal life. I wouldn’t have Ketchup ignoring me and refusing to answer my calls or texts. I also wouldn’t have Noah moping around behind me, feeling bad that he caused a fight between Ketchup and me and trying to apologize every time he sees me.
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