by Megan Linski
“Did you cry on your first day of college?” I ask, feeling rather pathetic.
“So, what if I did?” Thames stops wiping off my face, and looks at me. “I got over it.”
Then, under his breath, Thames mumbles, “I didn’t really have a choice. I had to leave home.”
“What do you mean? You were kicked out?”
Thames starts rubbing at my face again. The tissue is black.
“Kind of.” Thames makes a face. “How much makeup did you put on this morning?”
“Too much. I’m not used to it. I probably look like the clown from It,” I complain.
“It was the clown, honey,” Thames tells me as he throws the tissue away.
“See? I’m so horribly behind on pop culture references, too.” I sigh, and flop back on my bed. “I’m never gonna fit in here.”
“Fitting in is for boring people,” Thames tells me. “It’s more interesting to stand out.”
“Well, I think I did that today.” I pull at my pants. “Me and my stupid overalls. I look like something out of the 90s.”
“Well, wear a dress next time.” Thames smirks. “You’d look adorable in it.”
His playful expression becomes something serious. “You’ll find your way here. Don’t worry. Everyone does. And whatever it is you’re going to become, you’ll be great at it. I promise.”
The words spark a bit of hope in me. “Do you… do you want to hang out?” It takes all my courage to ask those words. “Tonight?”
He pauses, like he wants to say yes. But then he shakes his head, and says, “Not tonight, doll. I’ve got somewhere to be. But maybe later.”
He snatches my phone out of my hands and punches his number in it before handing it back to me. His fingers nearly burn my skin when they brush across it. “Tomorrow. After class. I get out at five.”
“Oh…. okay,” I say, holding onto that promise. “Tomorrow, then.”
“See you soon,” he says, heading out the door.
Thames’ pops his head back in. “By the way, I think you look really cute in those overalls.”
He gives me a wink before closing the door quietly. It leaves me breathless.
When Thames is gone and it’s clear he’s not coming back, I slip into my comfortable old pajamas and into bed. I feel better… though I still can’t sleep. What exactly happened tonight? Was it real? It’s like Thames arrived as a knight in shining armor.
Or as a bad dream.
His words were so cryptic. What did they mean? He “used to know” somebody who looked like me, who shares my last name?
Dad and I are the only Delamores that I know of. I don’t have family out there. I’m a Nephilim, Dad’s an angel, and mom’s dead. Her family outcasted her after she ran off with Dad, from what I’ve heard.
And Thames’ skin— so fiery, flaming hot. I’d think he was sick with fever, but it’s clear he was fine. His good looks, charm, the strength of that punch that knocked Cody back… signs are there that he’s not one-hundred percent human.
But I’m speculating. There are only a few dozen Nephilim in the world from what Dad told me. The odds of another one being here, at the same university I’m attending, are slim to none.
Impossible. Yet I can’t shake the feeling there’s more to Thames Deacon than meets the eye.
Something about that boy— about this whole thing— is off. And tomorrow, during our… whatever it is we’re doing… I’m going to find out what.
I’m late to my first class, because it took me forever to pick out a dress I liked. Advanced Physics isn’t something I’m looking forward to taking, but I need a math credit and Dad insisted I take the highest one they offer.
He never allowed me to sign up for blow-off classes growing up. Why start now?
Nobody notices when I come in late— I guess in college they don’t care about that sort of thing. I sit in the back, take notes, and listen to the lecture. In all my other classes, I do the same… sit there, try to look interested.
In all my dreams of “real school,” I’d never expected it to be so dull.
My last class for the day is the only one I’m looking forward to, the one class that isn’t science or math related and that my dad doesn’t know I signed up for— Ancient History.
I’m obsessed with history. Obsessed. Dad doesn’t like it because he doesn’t think historians are “important people,” but I always find it interesting.
Instead of taking the back of the class this time I take the front. I end up sitting next to two girls; one a pretty, preppy blonde, the other a goth.
“Hey, freshman,” the goth says, giving a light wave. I turn around, wondering if this is some sort of common greeting. “You get lost? They usually don’t allow underclassmen in here.”
I blush. “No, I, uh… my test scores were really high. So they let me sign up for 300 level.”
“Well look at you, smarty pants,” goth girl says with a coy smile. “We’re Juniors, and you’ll graduate before we will.”
“Lighten up, Sydney,” the blonde tells her. She flashes a brilliant smile at me and says, “Hi. I’m Emalee, and the smart ass over here is Sydney.”
“Hi,” I say lightly. “Faline— I mean— Lena Delamore,” I say, shaking their hands and using the name Thames gave me. Everyone tries to be someone else in college, right?
“Delamore, huh? We have a friend with your last name. Cassia sound familiar?” Sydney asks.
“Nah. Don’t know her.” I shake my head. “All that’s left of my family are me and Dad.”
“Huh.” Sydney looks at Emalee. “Coincidence, then.”
“So, freshie, liking your first day of class?” Sydney asks, slumping on the table.
“Kind of.” I chew on my pen. “Though it’s not as exciting as last night.”
“What happened last night?” Emalee leans forward, eyes glimmering. I get the feeling she’s a gossip queen.
“I almost got roofied, then I got carried out of the party by some hottie,” I tell them. “Real hunk.”
“Oooh. Who was it?” Sydney asks, and she lifts her head up.
“Thames Deacon,” I say, supposing they don’t know him.
“Thames!” both girl croon at once before looking at each other with devilish smiles.
“You know him?” I ask, shocked.
“We went to high school together,” Sydney says, gesturing to her and Emalee.
“But he doesn’t go here,” Emalee subs in. “He just pops in and out to visit sometimes.”
“Visit who?” I ask, confused.
“Cairo Cross,” Emalee says. “His brother. Cairo transferred here from Central about a semester back.”
“So he could be closer to his girlfriend,” Sydney says in a sickeningly sweet way. She and Emalee giggle.
“So… Thames doesn’t live here?” I ask meekly.
“Thames was at a school in North Carolina studying to become a brain surgeon,” Sydney quips. “That’s what we heard from Cassia, anyway. I don’t know if he’s still there.”
Brain surgeon. Wow.
“You think a bad boy like Thames has the capability to stay in one place for long?” Sydney snorts. “Nah. That boy’s a wanderer.”
Sydney leans forward to stare off into the distance dreamily. Bad boy? And he knows this Cassia person? This… girl who’s dating his brother, who shares my last name?
Weird.
“If you know Thames, you’re officially interesting,” Sydney says. “We definitely need to get to know you better. We’re friends now.”
“Yes. Friends,” Emalee says robotically, as if I don’t have a choice.
I smile weakly. “Okay. Friends.”
The professor walks in. He’s got golden hair that is starting to gray, and is older, maybe in his sixties. He’s dressed conservatively, like you’d expect a college professor to.
But when he passes by my desk, a wave of magic hits me. I duck my head down and try to hide… I can’t be mistaken. I f
eel his power. This guy is definitely a Nephilim.
Most Nephilim can’t spot each other on sight, or by feeling; they have to be told. But Dad trained me to feel them out and sense them from a distance. I’ve come in contact with other Nephilim before, but they’ve never seen me, I’ve only ever seen them from me and Dad’s training sessions.
He’s got the natural good looks of one, too. His strength is so unbound I’m surprised his wings aren’t showing. He’s not being cautious. He truly doesn’t think there are any of his kind around.
I start to panic. What if this guy figures out I’m a Nephilim? Is he affiliated with the council? Will he report me to them? I start to gather my things slowly, before Emalee looks at me weird and I stop.
I remind myself that there are very few Nephilim in the world. I could be the only one who can tell a Nephilim from a human based on instinct alone.
As long as I don’t give any signs, this guy will never know what I truly am.
“Good evening, class,” the Nephilim says, venturing to the head of the room. “To start, I have a last name, but I consider it irrelevant and none of you will remember it anyway. As such, you may call me Athias.”
Athias locks eyes with everyone in the room, including me. His gaze hesitates on me longer than the rest— longer than it should. He raises an eyebrow and clasps his hands behind his back before turning away.
I swear he knows.
If Athias is certain of anything, he doesn’t show it. We go over the syllabus, and he gives us a lecture on Mesopotamia, breezing by an interesting footnote on an ancient structure called the Temple of Infinite Wonders and the civilization that used to surround it. No one else seems to care but me— my pen is moving so fast upon paper it’s making my hand hurt.
Athias is a wonderful historian. The way he tells history makes it seem like it’s a story, like it’s coming alive. I’m fascinated by every word that comes out of his mouth.
But when he dismisses us and the story ends, I’m the first one to gather my things and be out. Athias glances at me as I leave. It makes me uncomfortable, but at least he didn’t mention anything to me.
I fiddle with the books as I walk back to my dorm. Even if Athias knows my secret, I don’t want to drop his class. It’s so interesting. Maybe he doesn’t care I’m part angel.
Dad would want me to drop it. Play it safe.
“See you Wednesday, girl!” Sydney calls after me, waving. “We’ll be waiting for all the new stories you’ll have about hot Thames!”
Hmph. Hot Thames. I’m pretty sure hot Thames wants nothing to do with me, and was just leading me on last night and—
“Hey,” Thames says as I slam into him right outside my dorm room. Papers go flying; I smash against the wall and go tumbling down.
“Oh my gosh, are you okay?” he says quickly. He reaches out a hand to help me up. I take it, feeling rather light as I rise to my feet. My wings are practically fluttering.
“I have a bad habit of doing this,” Thames mumbles as he picks up my papers. He hands them to me and says, “You ready to hang?
“Is it already five?” I ask, flummoxed. I open my dorm room and chuck my books on my bed.
“Yeah.” Thames leans against the doorway in that casual, sexy way of his. “If you’re busy, I can just go.”
“No, it’s fine. I need some chill time. Where are we going?”
“Town,” he says. “There’s a Chinese restaurant everyone goes to. You’ll be obsessed, I promise.” He looks around at the teal in the room, and pretends to gag. I roll my eyes, and giggle.
“Lead the way.” I grab my purse and follow Thames to the parking lot. He moves close to me… his body nearly presses against mine when we walk.
He leans over and whispers, “You look great in that dress, by the way.”
Bingo! Points for me! I’m practically walking on air. I’m brought back to earth when I see a shiny black crotch rocket parked next to the dorm building.
“Holy crap!” I exclaim as we walk past. “Whoever owns that is one lucky guy!”
Thames lets out a laugh. “Actually, it’s my bike,” he says.
“Really? I love bikes,” I say. I proceed toward it.
His grin only gets wider. “You have a bike?”
“Naw. My dad never let me have one, but late at night I’d sneak out and steal the neighbor’s and ride it around.”
“You stole your neighbor’s bike? Bad girl,” he teases.
“I always brought it back, and filled it up with gas,” I rebuke. “Took a couple of crashes before I learned how to ride, though.”
“I figured we could take your car,” Thames says. “That’s why I took the bike.”
I redden. “My car… uh… got kind of totaled,” I tell him. “Something really big fell on it from the sky.”
“Woah!” His eyes widen. “Okay. Guess the plan’s out, then.”
“Why don’t we just take your bike?” I ask.
“The last time I had a girl on my bike, it uh… didn’t work out so well,” Thames admits. He laughs nervously.
“I’m not breakable.” I smirk. “I can take it.”
“You’re in a dress.”
“I got shorts on underneath.” I put a hand on the seat. “Unless the bike is just for show, and not for speed.”
Thames grins. “All right. Put this on, and hold on tight.”
He hands me his helmet (not that I need it). I put it on, then throw my purse into one of the saddle bags attached to the back of the bike.
“Better hold on tight, doll,” Thames whispers to me, and my stomach does cartwheels. I wrap my arms around his thick, strong middle, feeling rather fan-girlish. Thames fires up the bike, then takes off, the odometer inching up to one hundred miles per hour.
Before I know it, I’m flying. And I’m not just talking about the bike.
Thames makes me fly.
Thames is a great biker. He knows all the right turns to take, when to take them, how fast to go. I can’t help but cheer and laugh every time he increases his speed or turns a corner.
But even though we’re going way past the speed limit, even though the world around me is nothing but a blur… I get the feeling that Thames is holding back. He’s being too cautious with me. Like he’s afraid he’s going to mess up and crash.
I’m about to tell him to go faster just as we pull into the parking lot of the Chinese place. I take my helmet off, and am about to go in before something else catches my attention.
“I didn’t know they had a vintage video game store here,” I say. The bell on the door jingles as we walk inside.
“I didn’t know you liked them,” Thames says, surprised.
“I played a lot of video games growing up,” I say. “I had to keep myself entertained with things I could do by myself.”
“A girl who likes motorbikes and video games,” Thames says happily. “What a catch.”
I smile. I fiddle with the old Nintendo 64 consoles, mess with the PacMan arcade game in the corner and shift through retired PlayStation discs before rifling through the new games they have at the center of the store.
“Aw, man, it’s finally out,” I whisper, lifting up an assassin game that I’ve had my eye on ever since they announced it. I check the price tag, and grimace. “Too bad I can’t afford it.”
“I’ll buy it for you,” Thames offers. “It’s no big deal.”
“No way! It’s sixty bucks!” I counter, stunned.
“Like I said, it’s no big deal.” Thames takes the game off the rack and goes to the register. He pays for it, then hands it to me, saying, “Here you go. Though I don’t know how you’re going to play it without a system.”
“You’re such a sweetheart,” I say, and he grins again. A small dimple appears in this cheek, making him even more charming. “I brought a console with me to put in my dorm. You know, just in case.”
“Then we can play it together,” he offers. “I kinda wanted to play it, too. Now come on. I’m starve
d.”
My head is swirling when we leave the video game store and walk into the Chinese restaurant. This dude I just met yesterday dropped sixty bucks on me like it was nothing. He was happy to do it, too. Does he want something out of me?
The Kung Pao chicken is the bomb. I’m chewing happily as it explodes in my mouth. I’m even making tiny little moans of joy. This place really is incredible.
“Wow. Didn’t know it was that good.” Thames says, looking humored.
“I make noises when I eat sometimes,” I explain. I feel my cheeks start to warm. “It’s kind of embarrassing.”
“Don’t be embarrassed. It’s kind of funny, in an annoying, cute sort of way.”
Then, under his breath, he adds, “There are other ways I could have you make noises.”
I nearly gag. Thames laughs, and adds, “I was just joking with you. Lighten up, doll.”
I don’t know whether to feel happy or sad that Thames was merely playing around. I decide to change the subject. “Sydney said you went to college in North Carolina,” I mention cautiously.
“I did.” Thames plays with the chopsticks. “I was there for two years.”
“You just dropped?”
“I got kicked out. Anger issues,” Thames says.
I freeze. “Anger issues?”
“I had trouble getting over a girl.” He shrugs.
“Oh. I’m sorry. What happened?” I frown, and take a sip of water.
“She picked my brother.”
I spit. My water dribbles down the side of my mouth and onto my shirt. Thames laughs and grabs a napkin, and reaches over to wipe off my shirt. “God, you’re so messy. It’s hilarious.”
My full attention is on his hands as they wipe the water off my clothes. His soft strokes make my breath stop. When he pulls away, my mind is whirling.
This… Cassia chick picked Cairo? His brother? How? Thames is incredible. He’s… perfect.
I haven’t asked Thames when he has to leave. Or if he’s ever going to leave. Suddenly, the need to know how long he’ll be staying here is impossible to avoid.
