by Mary Gray
Seconds move much too fast, and too soon he drops his hands from my face and pulls away. I have to fight back the urge to grab him around the neck and kiss him again since he’s not even looking at me; he’s looking away. I want to be the lady he sees me to be—to be good and proper and check my behavior, because with Teo we can be so much more. He makes me more.
Slowly, he turns toward me, and I expect him to marvel about his world, but instead I find his black eyes probing inside my own. Not questioning or studying, but like he’s hungering for something. And it takes me a moment, but I know what he’s hungering after—me.
Warmth surges up and down my spine, and I reach out to touch the back of his hand.
That’s all that it takes. Because his eyes are washing over me, and drinking me in, and he’s gripping me by my hips, and slamming my body into his. My hips, my brain—everything’s crackling. His lips are on top of mine, mine are on top of his, and we’re dissolving into each other—nothing like a gentleman’s kiss. My body crushes into his lean, toned chest, and his hands grip my hips tighter as our legs press into each other, hard. My veins implode, snip; we’re two people, but not, and I can’t press into him hard enough.
When he weaves his fingers through my hair and trails them down my neck, my pulse pounds, so I grip the suit jacket on his back, yank it, and to my surprise, he rips it off and we’re white on white—my white dress bleeding into his white shirt. The thin fabric between us simultaneously feels like nothing and too much. I want to keep ripping layers off, but my hands are too busy searching the lines of his shoulders, the small of his back. His hands are soaring up and down the length of my shoulders, my waist, my ribs. And when he forces me against the wall and presses his lips to my neck, my head falls back, my mouth opens, and I let out a moan.
Did I really just moan?
Teo nuzzles his face into my neck as blood rushes over my cheeks. I can’t believe I messed up like that, but Teo’s chuckling darkly, like he’s never been happier. “You liked that?” he says.
He’s never said anything so simple to me before, so I guess my slip-up is okay. I look up at him and find the ebony of his eyes lighting into my own. My lips travel down the stubble on his jaw and neck, and to my delight, Teo groans. It looks like he doesn’t mind a little auditory feedback, after all. I guess it’s kind of fun. Searching for another sound from him, I kiss his nose, his eyes, his lips, and soon he’s crooning, “Oh, if you knew of the time I’ve wasted dreaming of this.”
Wasted. Like he’d much prefer doing something else.
A bit of wall trim is suddenly digging into my back, and when I cast my eyes about his room, I find that it’s empty—white walls, except for a full-sized bed pushed to one side and floor to ceiling bookcases jam-packed with books. Does he really feel that the time he spends thinking of me is a waste? But that can’t be how he feels, because no one could fake a kiss like that. So maybe he meant that he’s spent a lot of time thinking about me. Which is actually a compliment. I shouldn’t get caught up in overanalyzing everything.
Teo holds the side of my face, and it becomes much easier to forget his earlier words. I close my eyes, savor his calm, soothing touch, and open them again to read the compassion I know he hides from the world. His bare shadow of hair mirrors his black, euphoric eyes, and I love how every time I look at him he looks different, but yet the same.
Cupping my face in his long, slender hands, Teo studies my eyes, my nose, my cheeks. And I study him back.
“Are you happy here?” Teo asks, his eyes pulsing into mine.
How could I not be? We’ve hit a few bumpy spots, like when he rebuked me in front of everybody else, but we’re together at last. “Of course,” I say.
Teo’s face is somber. “But why?”
And the answer is simple. “Because you are here.”
Teo smoothes his thumbs down the sides of my cheeks. “And that is enough for you?”
I swallow, and then I’m wondering about that swallow. Am I nervous? I suppose everything about Teo makes me shake. But that is love, isn’t it? When our hearts scream out in response to someone else. My heart doesn’t just thump, thump in my chest, but everywhere—the thumping pounds as an explosive force in my head, my feet, my shins. And through all this, I’ve somehow abandoned Teo’s question. Is his being here enough to make me happy? Of course it is.
To prove my answer, I place my mouth over his, choosing instead to show him how I feel. I move away from the wall, and he meets me halfway, then more than halfway, because he’s pressing me against the wall again and I’m welcoming the bit of trim jabbing into my back. He’s kissing me again as warm goose bumps erupt across my flesh.
Burying his face in my hair, Teo breathes in deeply before kissing down the length of my neck. “You have learned the names?”
It’s hard not to gasp as he skims the skin at the bottom of my neck. “Yes.”
Holding his mouth over the hollow of my throat, he kisses me softly, sending tremors up and down my spine before moving back. “And you approve?”
It takes me a minute to catch my breath, so I breathe in and out, slowly, to clear my head. I want to be completely honest with him, explain I recognize most of the names, but I don’t want him to be disappointed in my knowledge, so I let him know of my approval by clasping his hands and kissing them before I nod.
I expect him to reach for the vaccine. For him to say, “Well done, my love. Here!” But somehow everything shifts. Teo’s bedroom door smashes open, smacking him on the back. His shoulders tense, his face grows dark, and he spins on whoever has come in.
Sparks fly from Teo’s face—his eyes flash like obsidian and his jaw flexes several times, fast. His fingers grip me around the waist, then tighten, like he means to strike whoever’s standing in that door. For them, I wish they’d disappear.
Three men stand in the doorway, bracing themselves against Teo’s wrath: Marc, the plaid-shirted boy—Romeo?—and the diamond-faced, overalls-wearing Ramus. But Jonas stands behind them tapping a stick-like object. Is that a stun gun? Maybe it’s in case the people infected with the Living Rot break through.
Teo studies them. All the lines of his face point inward—his eyebrows, his lips—and I’m terrified for the boys standing at that door. No one crosses Teo when he knows what he wants. What are they thinking, bursting into Teo’s room? They could at least have knocked.
Teo’s voice is impossibly low. “Why have you come?” he asks. His eyes bore into Marc’s, but Marcus doesn’t flinch. At first, I’m scared for Marcus—taking this action, standing up against his older brother—but then I look at his face, how his eyes are sparkling like there are fireworks inside. It’s pent-up lava nearly erupting. But why is he so angry? There has to be something going on that I don’t know about.
“You shouldn’t be alone with her,” Marcus says, eyes boiling, and it doesn’t make sense that he would burst in on us for that. What is he thinking? That Teo has somehow become a monster and I should suddenly run far away? Marcus is so confused.
“Oh, what is this?” Teo laughs. “The chastity brigade? Well, isn’t this fun?”
Ramus, in his janitorial overalls, pushes past Marcus, keeping his eyes on the ground. “We just wanted to be sure she was okay,” he says, shrugging. Why’s he here at all if he is so indifferent about everything?
Teo thrusts his hands out in front of him, a playful smile tilting his soft lips. “And what do you think, brethren? Does the fair maiden look harmed?”
Five sets of eyes turn on me: Teo, Marcus, Romeo, Ramus, and Jonas. Such a confined space for six people. I was just willingly kissing Teo, yet I can’t deny that the protective nature of these boys touches me.
But Marc’s eyes rage like a storm, and his arm is cocked, ready to throw a punch. I’m beginning to think he may need to see a therapist. First the math meets, now this. But I don’t want the brothers to fight, so I step to Marc, place my hand on his elbow.
“Marcus,” I smile up at him, “it�
��s okay.” I pat the muscles bulging beneath his shirt. He’s awfully tense. Maybe someone said something wrong, like that I didn’t want to be here, and this is all a big mistake. So I let him know that I want to be here as gently as I can. “Teo is a gentleman.” I wipe away the memory of his brother throwing me against the wall, and the feeling of his lips on my skin. Feeling the blood rush to my cheeks, I add, “Thanks for checking in on us, though.”
Marc’s shoulders and his head look like an invisible baseball bat has pounded them. But why’s he so sad?
Teo hooks his arm around my back, and it’s beginning to be my favorite way he touches me in front of people, like he can’t stand not touching me. “Gentlemen,” he says, “I’d like to invite you to leave.”
I look at the boys, trying to understand why Ramus is suddenly squaring his shoulders like he still means to throw a punch. And the plaid-shirted boy, Romeo, keeps looking from Ramus to Teo, like he’s not sure which way he wants things to play out. But Marcus’s reaction puzzles me most. He’s staring at the ground. He should be relieved to see that everything with Teo is okay, that whoever made him believe I didn’t want to be here was wrong.
Romeo discreetly grips Ramus’s arm. He whispers something, and several seconds tick by before Ramus seems to let go of his instinct and turns for the door. The other boys do the same.
“Before you leave,” Teo says, tilting his head to the side, “I have one minor question to ask of you.”
The boys twist their heads around.
“Whose idea was it to come?”
Marcus and Romeo exchange looks like it was one of them, but Ramus strides to Teo, a look of defiance flashing across his eyes. “It was me. I brought the boys.”
Oh, no. No, no, no. No one should ever openly defy Teo. This can’t turn out well.
Before Teo says anything, Marc’s jaw stiffens and Romeo grips Marcus’s arm, like it never was Ramus from the beginning. And the way that Marcus seems to be shrugging Romeo off, it’s like it was Marcus’s idea to burst in on Teo and me, which makes perfect sense because, when I told him to leave, he was so sad.
“So, this was your idea?” Teo asks brightly, as if Ramus’s claim to burst in on us is a good thing.
“Do you question my honesty?” Ramus asks, his diamond face widening. I wish I had a magic wand and could make him disappear. Is he trying to make his position worse?
Teo chuckles, his chest inflating. Clapping Ramus on the back, he says, “I suppose not, my friend.” Teo chuckles a bit longer and then locks his black eyes on mine, and I know Teo is not simply happy. He’s planning something. “What do you say, Persephone, shall we hold a meeting?” He gestures through the door. “You have a desire, no doubt, to learn the classical backdrop of our world?”
I do, and hopefully in the throes of Teo’s explanation he’ll forget about his anger toward Ramus and we can move on. And now I have learned the names, but I’m not clear on a few of their meanings. Ana, for instance, and her rude partner, Sal. Who do they represent?
Teo claps his hands together in two beats of dismissal, and my heart leaps. “Marc, my affectionate brother. Call a meeting. We meet in the street.”
7
Street lamps dot the houses on the road like fireflies in the pitch of night. Teo looms above us, the porch light hollowing his face and eyes. He’s like a specter, large and surreal, but those long fingers remind me he’s much more than a phantom in the night. He’s Teo—my Teo, who was just touching my face.
Stretching both arms high in the air, his baritone voice sings out, “And so we meet!” He extends his hand in my direction, several feet to the side of him on Ramus’s porch. “And we are complete.”
A few heads bob up and down—Abe’s dreadlocked ponytail bounces in the faint light. He clutches Eloise’s hand as she glances around, eyes open wide. It makes me wonder how much English she understands, or if she, too, is taken by Teo’s presence. It’s hard not to be taken by him.
Curious, I look for Marc’s dark hair, but I don’t see him; maybe he’s in the back, behind the Doublemint twins, who shift impatiently on their feet. The tallest of the group taps on his legs, and it reminds me of Ana’s note, how one of the blond boys plays the drums. Lance, I think. I hope they’ll soon love Teo the way I do.
Striding to the front of the porch, Teo stretches his hands out toward the group. “Are there any here who desire to know the inspiration for this place?” he asks.
I feel as though I’ve backtracked to trig, the way he quizzed us in class; I’m tempted to launch my hand high in the air, but stop myself. He isn’t asking me. If I gave all the answers, he wouldn’t have the chance to connect with everyone, and I need for everyone to connect with him the way I do.
Raising his voice, Teo calls out, “Are there any here who desire to know the truth, the wisdom, the power of the number seven?”
I look to the others, hope to find someone as eager as I was in class to know the power of the number, though I can’t help wondering why he’s chosen eight couples. Well, eight and a half. But no one’s hand darts into the air. Bee fidgets with her French twist, and Ramus keeps reaching for her waist, but she bats him away like he’s invading her space.
Teo opens his mouth to explain anyway. “The simplest, most popular explanation is God’s creation of the earth in seven days. But that was truly six,” he clarifies. “He rested on the seventh. But we do not take that approach here. Is there anyone who desires to know the truth of our artistic world?”
I glance again at the other couples on the grass, how the black-haired girl standing with Romeo—Juliet?—keeps scratching her bare ankles on the grass. And her partner, Romeo, stares at the stars.
Someone raises their hand; five fingers stretch up behind Romeo’s head. They must want to know the wisdom of Teo’s world, too. If I could see who it is—
Romeo shifts enough to show me Sal, of all people, raising his hand. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and I can’t help wishing it was someone cooler, like Ana, or Bee, maybe.
Teo eyes the long-necked boy but doesn’t comment on Sal’s hand. Looking away, he says, “I would like to invite the first man and woman of our world to come forth.” He holds his arms out for Ramus and Bee, who hunch together on the far side of the grass. Smiling at them politely, he adds, “If you please.”
Slowly, they find their feet: Ramus still clad in his janitor’s suit, and Bee more than a little conspicuous in her bright red dress. Ramus reaches for Bee’s hand, and, though frowning, she allows him to take it. It makes me wonder if she doesn’t like him or if she just likes her space. Ramus pulls her to our leader, though, jaw flexing, like he doesn’t care if Bee wants to hold his hand or not. Now, if Teo can get on with their tale, and skip the part where he publicly rebukes Ramus for bursting in on us, we can see his vision of this world and put the Living Rot behind us.
Gripping Ramus and Bee by the shoulders, Teo turns them so they face the rest of the group. I’m ridiculously apart from everyone, standing on the far side of the porch. Bee glances over at me briefly, her eyes darting back and forth, but I know she’ll be fine. Object lessons are Teo’s specialty. I wish I could give her a hug, though, since I remember what it’s like to face a crowd of classmates while trying to do what Teo wants.
“Allow me to share a little tale,” Teo says, stepping to the side of Ramus, who reaches out for Bee’s waist, but she’s too far away from him so he drops his hand.
“Once upon a time,” Teo says, “a beautiful woman fell in love with a man. Pyramus and Thisbe of ancient Babylon,” he gestures at the couple, “were not permitted to marry. Their parents hated each other. Sounds familiar, does it not? Resembles the tale of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet?”
I remember this story. Pyramus and Thisbe—that was creative of Teo to change their names to Bee and Ramus. I can’t wait to hear how he recounts the tale. Maybe he’ll have them recite lines, like when Pyramus said, “O kiss me through the hole of this vile wall!”
I love Shakespeare. I love all his plays. Teo knows that. I realize I’m grinning, and I probably look like a deranged idiot, so I force my face to go straight. But Teo must see that I’m happy because he winks at me, so I wink right back, which is something I’ve done—well, maybe never in front of a group.
It’s hard not to bounce; the world is so beautiful at night, here in Elysian Fields. The night is warm and still, and I’m so happy to be a part of everything.
“Before we begin,” Teo says, looking out at everyone, “won’t you do me the honor of following me?” It somehow seems natural that he should lead us away from the porch to somewhere else. He steers Bee across the front of Ramus’s gray stone house, and when they turn to go to the back, it’s easy for me to follow, too.
Ramus, though, keeps glancing around, like he’s unsure about following. Romeo mumbles something in his thick twang, clapping his friend on the back, so Ramus follows Bee and Teo, shoulders hunched. Patience, Ramus, patience. You just need to give Teo time.
Romeo and Juliet scamper behind Ramus, Juliet’s curlicues bouncing as she bends over to scratch her legs. A quick glance tells me the other couples are following. The boy with pink and green hair—Tristan?—and his partner keep giggling at the way poor Juliet’s scratching her legs, and the other Doublemint girl starts spouting off random acronyms again while her partner laughs. I wish everyone would focus more on the story; maybe wherever Teo is taking us will do the trick.
My eyes comb over the side-yard grass, spotting Marcus for the very first time, but he doesn’t seem to notice me—he’s too busy looking through the trees. I glance where he’s looking, but there’s nothing to see. The porch lights, moon, and stars offer very little light.
