01 Untouchable - Untouchable

by Lindsay Delagair

  Although we didn’t have our next class together, I knew we’d have the same lunch period. If I were lucky, I’d get there before him and our table would be full.

  Evan actually met me at the cafeteria door and asked me if I was doing better. He was being impossibly sweet today, so different from his attitude yesterday afternoon. I told him yes, but that I was honestly so tired that I had dozed off in my economics class. I’m sure he figured my exhaustion was due to my restless night last night (which was a big reason). But what he didn’t know was that I’d burned the last of my energy fending my ‘I’m not looking for a boyfriend,’ attitude against Ryan’s onslaught first period. To tell the truth, I don’t think Ryan was used to a girl turning him down. They probably all melted like butter in his hands, so I’m sure I was an oddity.

  Evan and I went through the line and sat at the usual table. Kevin, Carlie, and Natasha were already in place. Jewels usually flitted around the room, doing her social-butterfly routine, but not today. It was starting to bother me that I hadn’t seen her, but I shouldn’t have worried because she had simply been out Ryan hunting. She came through the doors with him on her arm like she was showing off a new piece of jewelry. I started to duck my head behind Evan’s shoulder, which was more than adequate to hide me, but it was too late, he spotted me. I thought Jewels would spend most of the period making introductions, but apparently Ryan had other plans as they reached our table in record time.

  “Hey everybody,” Jewels bubbled over. “This is Ryan Faultz. Ryan, this is Natasha Green, and…”

  “Kevin and Carlie, right?” Ryan beat Jewels to the intro. “They’re in my English class,” he added.

  “Oh,” Jewels said, suddenly making the connection, “Then you must know Leese.”

  I watched his lips turn at the corners in a slow smile, “No, I don’t know Leese…”

  I thought for a moment he was going to be cool about the fact that I was sitting beside a guy with twice his muscle mass and a protective stare, but I should have known better.

  “But I do know the lovely Annalisa. We have chemistry…” he paused.

  What the crap was he talking about! My eyes went large as I gave him the ‘I’d really like to slap you’ stare. Everyone, including Jewels, was silent for a split second.

  Out of the corner of my eye I could see Evan set down his sandwich, brush his palms together once, and push himself away from the table.

  “And English, psych, and P.E. together,” he finished.

  I gave a little sigh of relief; he was talking about our schedules.

  Evan was already in motion, standing up and reaching out toward Ryan.

  “And this is Evan Lewis,” Jewels finished, apparently relieved that it was going to be a hand shake and not a punch.

  “Oh, so you’re Evan,” Ryan said, as he accepted the hand shake. “Annalisa mentioned you during English.”

  “Really?” Evan got a strange expression, and then glanced at me.

  I was waiting for the rest of it. Surely Ryan was going to say that Evan’s name was mentioned in the same sentence as ‘not my boyfriend,’ but to my disbelief he left that tidbit out.

  “I’m going to get something to eat,” Ryan said as he motioned toward the line. “Jewels?”

  “No, I’m just going to grab a diet coke from the machine.” She turned loose of his arm, but let her fingers trail down his colorful tattoo. “You go ahead.”

  Ryan was still waiting in line by the time Jewels settled beside me on the bench. “Can you believe it?” she asked, but didn’t wait for anyone to respond. “It’s like the gods are dropping good looking guys from the sky! First Evan and now Ryan—who’s going to enroll tomorrow? Brad Pitt?”

  I almost choked on my sandwich, “Jewels he’s like in his forties.”

  “Closer to fifty,” Kevin added.

  “Who cares!” was Jewels’ response. “He could be ninety as long as he still looks twentyish.”

  “That’s gross, Jewels.” I looked at Evan and he had this funny smirk on his face. I knew it had to be because Jewels had just classed him in a league with Brad Pitt.

  Ryan was tolerable through lunch although he kept looking over at me. Every time he did, Evan would stare at him until he looked away. Finally, Jewels started asking him about his tattoos and that seemed to stop the ‘look, stare, glare,’ competition.

  “I really want to get a tattoo,” Jewels was saying. “But Daddy would kill me.”

  “Don’t do that, Jewels,” Kevin began. “They aren’t safe.”

  “Yes they are,” Ryan countered.

  “No,” Kevin went on, undeterred. “Some of the inks have metals in them. You can’t have MRI’s or…”

  “Wrong, little guy,” Ryan cut him off. “I’ve had an MRI and there was no problem over my tattoos.”

  I watched Carlie’s face darken with anger; she didn’t like him belittling Kevin.

  Oops. I realized some of his gorgeousness just dimmed in her eyes. Good, maybe Kevin wouldn’t have anything to worry about in a while. Well, that was as long as Ryan kept making stupid remarks like the last one.

  Kevin adjusted his glasses and sat up straighter and taller. I knew what was coming when Kev did that; he was getting ready to unleash that brain that Carlie loved so much. “There are lawsuits in the courts right now over tattoo ink companies exposing their customers to chemicals that cause cancer and birth defects.”

  Ryan waved him off like Kevin had no idea what he was talking about. Kevin grew taller for the moment as he continued, “Lead is one of the biggest problems. Then you have elements that make up the colored inks, like on your forearm. Let’s see, you’ll find traces of titanium, aluminum, antimony, selenium, beryllium chromium, cobalt, nickel and, oh yeah, my personal favorite, arsenic. Tell me who’d want that under their skin!”

  “What do you do, dude, like read encyclopedias all day or something?” Ryan was directing his question to Kevin, but he looked at Carlie and gave her a wink and a smile.

  I was right. His charm hit her like an arrow against a steel shield as it bounced off harmlessly.

  “I was going to get a small tattoo,” Carlie began. “Just a rose on my lower back, so Kevin did some research for me. Besides finding out that a lot of the inks aren’t safe, he also discovered that about a fourth of the people tattooed later regret that they did it.”

  “Well, that and what Carlie’s mom calls a girl’s tattoo…” Kevin let his statement fade as he looked to Carlie to see if it was okay to finish or not.

  “A tramp stamp?” Ryan inserted.

  Carlie rolled her eyes, but glumly nodded to confirm the remark.

  All this time, I’d been looking to see what exactly was on Ryan’s large tattoo. I could make out a skull and a sword, something that looked like wings, but I couldn’t make out the small inscription. I reached over without much thought and rotated his arm by the wrist to get a better view. The tattoo was extremely intricate, but as I was studying it, he rolled his arm back before I could read the inscription.

  “What does it say?” I asked, realizing that I was still holding his arm and he seemed to be enjoying the touch of my hand. I withdrew when I looked up into the disconcerting blue gaze.

  “Come sit over here by me and I’ll show you.”

  Now there was no way I was going to go sit beside ‘oh-yeah-I’m-a-hot-guy,’ and I think Evan knew that, but I had the distinct feeling that Ryan was getting ready to meet the angry side of Evan in a few seconds. I could feel his body begin to stiffen beside me and I remembered the way he looked yesterday as his anger reached a boiling point.

  “Born to kill,” Evan said rather calmly for someone who was about to turn into the incredible hulk. “Am I right?” he asked. “I’ve seen one similar.”

  “Yeah, that’s right.” But the way Ryan said it, it was more like a challenge than an answer.

  Evan just laughed. But then he looked at Ryan and their eyes seemed to lock on each other; all the joking dropped fr
om his face, “So how many have you killed?”

  Ryan, as was the whole table, was silent for a few seconds. “Ask me that after I get out of the Air Force,” he finally replied.

  Again the whole group was silent as the reality of what he was saying sunk in, the only exception being Evan who was chuckling to himself.

  “Well,” I said, trying to break the tension at the table, “I’m getting a big tattoo this weekend; a cross on each arm and one right in the middle of my chest,” I said looking down at my tee-shirt as I drew a giant cross with my fingers. They all still looked so serious. “I’m kidding guys! Come on lighten up.” I bumped my shoulder into Evan’s arm and giggled.

  “No, you don’t need any tattoos, Leese,” he smiled. “They are permanent, but if you do have them removed, it’s really painful and leaves a scar.”

  “Really?” I asked, “How many have you had removed?”

  “None,” he answered with a serious tone.

  I could see Ryan looking him over, “You don’t have a tattoo, do you?”

  I was positive that there were no tattoos on Evan’s very hunky body, but to my utter shock he replied, one.

  “Where,” I demanded a little too forcefully.

  “You can’t see it.” He sounded like he regretted having mentioned it.

  “But where is it?” I asked a little nicer than my previous demand.

  Ryan was snickering. “I bet I can guess where it’s at.” He paid no attention to the peril he was putting himself in by pissing off Evan. “Across your heart, am I right?”

  Evan broke into an unusual smile; it was purely sadistic like he would derive a lot of pleasure out of snapping Ryan’s neck.

  “I bet you have a girl’s name tattooed on it,” Ryan continued his suicide speech.

  At this Evan lost the killer façade and started to genuinely laugh.

  “What’s so funny? Is he right?” I asked.

  “Yeah, sure, he’s right,” Evan shook his head and went back to eating his lunch.

  “That,” Kevin spoke up quickly, “Is why a quarter of the people regret getting a tattoo! They put someone’s name in it and then they break up.” He was being dead serious, but it was just so completely funny the way he blurted it out that everyone began to laugh.

  I was glad the tension had finally broken, but I was still curious. I turned my face toward Evan, letting my hair provide a curtain from the other prying eyes at the table. “What was her name?” I whispered dolefully. Just as I finished getting the words out, the bell rang. Everyone else was getting up, but I was still looking at him for a reply.

  “You’re serious? You really want to know?”

  I couldn’t help myself as I nodded. He looked at me and gave a sigh then he leaned toward my ear. I inhaled and there was that scintillating scent that I’d smelled in French class. His mouth was so close to my ear that I could feel his warm breath. It tickled, but there was no way I was pulling back until I heard the answer that I didn’t honestly want to know.

  “Mother,” he whispered.

  “Ah,” was all I could get out as I realized he was probably teasing me, but before I could react, he kissed my cheek and bolted from the table.

  There would be no need to dash after him and smack him for what he had done. He couldn’t escape me; we both had French class in a few minutes and he’d be cornered. It would, of course, be difficult to show that I was angry with him, when I couldn’t get the stupid smile off my face.

  By the time I strolled into French, I’d given up the idea of being mean to him. I was resigning myself to the idea that he liked me as much as I did him. I just couldn’t figure how this could possibly work out. I didn’t see any real danger in revealing a little bit of myself to Evan, but it couldn’t be a full disclosure until Mom was no longer paranoid. If she began to come to her senses, she’d want her daughters home. How would I feel if I had to look into those deep green eyes and explain that I was leaving? Maybe I could convince Mom and Dad to let me stay in Pensacola for my senior year. That would only work if they didn’t realize a boy was involved. Then I would be lying again.

  Mrs. Knoosh had decided to give a pop quiz so there would be no talking for the first half hour. The test was more difficult than I expected. I think what made it more disconcerting was that I could hear Evan’s pencil marking the paper at a rapid pace while I felt like I was trudging through beach sand.

  The final forty-five minutes were spent watching a French film. When the lights came up, we had ten minutes before the bell.

  “I was thinking,” Evan began. “I know you have to pick up your sister and baby-sit, but wouldn’t your aunt and uncle be okay with you going out for a little while in the evening? We could go to the mall or drive the beach.” He must have thought that no rebuttal over the kiss on the cheek was going to entitle him to a date.

  “I already have plans for tonight, but you could join me, if you want.” I realized that I had taken him by surprise. He was prepared for an argument instead of an invitation, but I could see the suspicion also.

  “It’s Wednesday,” I added, but saw no kind of comprehension on his face. “It’s church tonight.”

  “Oh,” he replied. Using one syllable and just two letters he was able to convey his discomfort with the thought of church.

  My heart dropped like a rock. I loved church, especially my Wednesday night youth group. What if he was against church or even a belief in God for that matter? That could be a stumbling block even bigger than my reason for being in Pensacola. “It’s okay,” I offered, trying to give him an easy out. “You don’t have to…”

  “No, it’s just, well, it’s been a while since I was in church.”

  Relief washed over me. “You’ll probably like it, if you like music. We have a band and you’ll know a couple of the kids from here.”

  “I won’t have to sing, will I?” With that question the discomfort came back to his face.

  “Not unless you volunteer,” I teased.

  The bell rang and we started for the parking lot. “So is this like a date-date?” he asked and proceeded to place his arm around my shoulder.

  “No, it’s church. It’s not a date.” I removed his arm from my shoulder. “Don’t think, Mr. Lewis, that I’ve forgotten what you pulled in the cafeteria, and I don’t let strange boys do that.”

  “Hum—I see. Well, how many boys that weren’t strange have you let do that?”

  “All boys are strange,” I countered.

  “Don’t tell me you’ve never been kissed.” There was a genuine amount of surprise in his voice.

  “I have,” I said obstinately. I unlocked my car and climbed inside. He didn’t walk away, he just stood there.

  “How old were you?” he asked. “And relatives don’t count.”

  I was going to try to answer this honestly, but I grew up being very sure of myself and didn’t feel the need to validate my ego by getting male attention. “I got it,” I finally said. “Jimmy Levito.”

  He looked mildly entertained as he leaned toward me from my window, “How old were you?” he repeated.

  There are times when I don’t like honesty. “I—I was nine. No, wait. I was ten. It was at my fifth grade dance and he kissed me when we were on the dance floor.”

  “And,” he prodded.

  “And what?”

  “Was it on the lips?”

  “It would have been if I hadn’t turned my face,” I retorted.

  “What happened after he tried to kiss you?” He was making sure that I knew it didn’t count as an actual kiss.

  I took a deep breath, annoyed that he had to have the whole truth. “I punched him. I think I may have broken his nose,” I finished miserably.

  His warm hand reached for my chin and tenderly turned my face toward his. It felt as if my resistance crumbled to dust. “So if I kiss you here,” he said letting his thumb gently brush across my lips. “I’ll be the first guy to really kiss you?”

  I looked deeply into tho
se distressing green eyes and replied, “If you survive it. I am a black belt, after all.”

  His face lit up as if I had just handed him a present. “You’re not serious, are you?”

  “Yes, I am. Don’t test me.”

  “You know I think you’re the funniest mystery I’ve ever tried to unravel.”

  I didn’t say anything, but I grabbed a piece of paper from my binder and scribbled down my address and handed it to him.

  He looked pleased, but still mystified.

  “For church tonight,” I clarified. “You did say you wanted to come, right? You do like music, don’t you?”

  “Yeah—yeah sure; AC/DC, Led Zeppelin, Metallica,” He looked at my shocked expression and laughed. “What time do you want me to show? Is this the address of the church or your house?”

  “Six-thirty, and that is my home address. Bev and Matt will want to meet you first.”

  There was an expression on his face that I simply couldn’t read. I didn’t know if it was pleasure or pain, but it bothered me. It reminded me of his face yesterday when he was trying to get me to accept a ride from him, but then he smiled and said he’d see me at six-thirty.

  At six-twenty five, a sleek, black 370Z pulled into the crowded driveway at Bev and Matt’s. I smiled and waved from the porch swing as he stepped out onto the concrete. He motioned me toward his car, and I shook my head while motioning him to the porch.

  He gave a little grimace as he approached, “I really have to do this ‘meet your parents’ thing?”

  “Aunt and Uncle,” I reminded him. “And yes you do.”

  I opened the door and walked inside with my reluctant prisoner in tow. Kimmy was the first to meet us and she seemed very surprised when she saw him.

  “Hi,” she said shyly. “I’m Kimberly. I’m Leese’s sister.”

  He smiled and put his hand out. “Hi Kim, I’m Evan. You’re just as pretty as your sister.”

  She giggled and her cheeks pinked as she finished shaking his hand. Matt Junior came toddling down the hallway, apparently having gleefully escaped from getting his hair combed. He stopped short at the sight of the big stranger standing in his foyer.