by Dyan Brown
I push against him again and again, matching his motions. My hands run up into the short, brown hair on the back of his head below his cap. No, his cap is gone—I rejoice and thread my fingers through the longer strands. His hand slides down to the hem of my shirt and grips the end of it in his fist as he starts to pull it away from my body. Not seeming to know if he wants the shirt pulled up or just wants to rip it off, I hear the fabric scream against the force of his grip.
“Damn! Get a room,” a male voice drawls. Someone else lets out a catcall whistle.
Growling, he quickly sets me back on the ground, then turns. There are two guys about our age coming toward us. I almost feel like he’s turning to slug them, and I hold my hands futilely on either side of his waist, ready to hold him back, but he just puts a hand out to the side while hiding me with his body. “Really, man? Seriously?”
The guys crack up as they pass us, making more snide commentary. Grayson moves so I’m behind him the whole time, protectively hiding me. I keep hoping when the two morons disappear down the path, we’ll continue. But when they’re gone, instead of turning back to me, his shoulders just sag. He bends down and retrieves our water bottles and his hat, dusting them off on his jeans. I take the moment to remove my hat that’s hanging from my ponytail and smooth my hair, folding the hat into my pocket.
“I’m sorry, Samantha,” he says quietly, still with his back to me.
I step forward and touch his back. “You couldn’t help that Tweedle-Dumb and Tweedle-Dumber came along.”
He looks over his shoulder at me and holds a water bottle out for me to take, which I do, removing my hand from his back.
“It’s not that. I’m glad they stopped us.”
His statement slaps me. “Well, I’m not,” I sputter before I can stop myself. “I haven’t ever been kissed like that… I’ve never been anything’d like that.”
“Me either,” he says, looking anywhere but at me when he says it. Finally, he looks at me full on, and I realize we’re both still breathing hard. “All the more reason it’s better that we stopped.”
“I was that bad at it?” I choke on the words.
Don’t cry! Damn it, Sam!
“Jesus, honey! No! You’re—I just can’t go too far… like that… so quickly.” He rubs at his temples hard, as if he’s having a hard time processing a thought. “I find it extremely hard to control myself around you, Samantha. I haven’t felt anything like this in a long time—maybe ever—but I will not take you in the woods on our first date, not after only knowing you for three days!”
Date? This is a date? Yay! Hope is coming back. Okay, I’m pathetic.
“So, how many dates until it’s appropriate?” I ask jokingly, hoping humor will tone the conversation down.
He chuckles, finally losing the tension in his upper body. “There’s no set number, but I’m just not like that. I know it’s odd, but I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I want you badly, but I don’t want to—I mean, I have to… wait.”
“Wait? Wait for what?” I ask, just to be sure I’m hearing what I think I am.
“Marriage,” he says simply and quietly, looking apprehensively for my reaction.
Oh. I frown and give a small nod, not sure what else to do. What am I supposed to do with that? That was not even on the same planet as anything I thought he might say.
“Okay, then.” Looking at the ground, the trees—anywhere but at him—I suddenly feel like I’ve defiled him. Maybe he’s a Mormon and I just made him, like, sin or something. Oh, God. This is too much. I need to leave.
In a nauseated daze, I turn to go back to the truck. Walking a few steps up the path, my sandal catches the edge of a rock on the trail and I trip. I start to nosedive, arms flying out to grab onto something and only finding air.
Grayson’s by me in a flash, pulling me back to my feet. “You’ve got to be more careful!” he says so sternly it sounded like he was talking to April.
I struggle out of his hold, only turning once I’m a few steps away. “Why are you mad at me?”
“I’m not mad!” he yells.
My shoulders drop, and I tilt my head and purse my lips, my body speaking the yeah, right for me.
Grayson pauses for a moment before his own shoulders drop and he rolls his eyes. He looks exhausted. Perhaps the heat of the day is getting to him, after all.
“I’m just… for lack of a better word, I’m frustrated with myself. I want to keep you safe all the time. Protect you. I can’t even explain why I feel like this. From the moment I saw you, I had to be near you—needed to be near you.” He tugs at the bill of his cap, shaping it into a deeper arch. “I’ve been alone so long. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I know sleeping together wouldn’t be taking care of you the way I should. No matter how badly I want you, the need to do right by you is so much greater.”
“Wow,” I whisper. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to respond to that. You are amazing in so many ways. I can’t explain my feelings for you, either, and they’re just as strong. I feel so comfortable when I’m with you, like I can truly be myself. I still can’t believe someone like you would even look at me, let alone want me… But if you’re already talking about marriage on the first date, that’s a bit much.”
I smile a little, hoping he realizes I’m half serious and half trying to lighten the mood.
Reading me like a book, he rolls his eyes and smiles back at me. “You know I don’t actually—”
“I know,” I say, answering before he finishes. With a sigh, I hold out my hand for him to take. “I seem to have worked up an appetite quicker than I thought I would,” I say, waggling my eyebrows. “Lunch?”
He takes my hand but doesn’t start toward the truck, gently pulling me close instead. Lacing our fingers together again, he tilts my chin and gives me a tender kiss this time. I still taste cinnamon on his lips. I had no idea that a kiss could be so sweet and passionate at the same time. I can feel his restraint, and he pulls away much too quickly.
He nudges my nose with his and smiles. “Yeah, I think I worked up something, too.” He breathes in deeply, lifts his head, and places a small kiss on my forehead. As he does this, my chest constricts as I remember the first dream I had about him. “Come on, honey.”
12
The next morning, I text my uncle to inquire about the office dress code. Thankfully, he said there really isn’t one, I just shouldn’t look tacky. And since I never do, I figure I’m good to go.
After a bowl of cereal with April, during which she continued her interrogation of my Sunday with her brother, I head to get dressed for a very long day. I pull on some kaki capri pants, a navy V-neck tee, and gold ballet flats. If today goes well, I’ll throw some heels in my bag tomorrow. If Uncle Carl has me running all over the place, I don’t want to be in two-inch heels, and I certainly won’t ride my bike in them.
I look at my phone for the second time, and it’s only eight o’clock. I still have half an hour till I need to be there. I open my lock screen to check the high temperature for today. Ninety-eight degrees.
Yay.
I don’t know why I look. At some point, I think the thing should just say Really fucking hot! and be done with it, especially when it gets over a hundred. I roll my eyes, lock my phone, and start to put it in my bag when my text notification rings.
Grayson!
Grayson: Good morning, honey! When are you leaving?
Me: Idk, maybe in 10? Just about to get my bike down. Feet on the ground, as promised.
Grayson: You have to be there at 8:30?
Me: Yep :)
Grayson: I’ll pick you up in 10. :)
Me: Don’t you have to be at work like now?
Grayson: I work for free. They’ll get over it
Grayson: See you soon ;-)
I wish I could lie to myself and say I was surprised, but I figured he would do this. I’m grinning from ear to ear like a moron as I go get another cup of coffee and settle in to kill ten minutes. When April asks
why I’m not getting my bike, I tell her Grayson’s giving me a ride.
“Oh–ho,” she says, wagging her eyebrows at me and then laughing.
I roll my eyes, feigning annoyance and leave to wait in the parking lot. It’s early, but by the time I get to the parking lot, he’s already there, leaning against the passenger headlight, dressed impeccably.
Outside of church, school dances, or some other forced activity, one doesn’t often see guys my age in suits. They always look uncomfortable, pulling at their collar and messing with their cuffs. Then, there are the guys who don’t look right in a suit at all, like if the Hulk were wearing a bunny suit. Grayson belongs in a suit.
All. The. Time.
His hair is gelled and combed back off his forehead. The starched white collar is adorned with a light blue tie, medium-width, diagonal stripes. The tie is tucked into a light gray, pinstriped vest that matches his trousers, with black shoes and no jacket. When I come around the corner, he has his phone out and is vigorously tapping away. He lifts his eyes toward me for a second, and my smirk I love so much finds its way to his lips.
“Just one more second, honey.” He picks up speed as he types. By the time I walk the last few steps to him, he is already finished. “All done. Sorry about that. Just finishing some renegotiations with my boss.”
He slides the iPhone in his pants pocket, letting his left hand linger on it. Reaching up with his right hand, he brushes an auburn tendril off my face and tucks it behind my ear. He lets his fingers continue down the line of my jaw until they’re underneath my chin, and then he gently lifts my chin up, lowering his head until his soft, warm lips cover mine. Long before I want the warmth to leave, it is gone. I’m left with my eyes closed, face tilted up, and lips puckered for a moment before I regain myself.
When I open my eyes, Grayson is smiling sweetly down at me. “Ready to go?” he asks, reaching out to open my door.
I nod and walk over, stepping up through the open door. The ride is quiet and short. He pulls around to the side of the building and puts the truck into park.
“I’ll see you at five, all right?” It feels as though the all right is more of a do you understand rather than a is that cool, and it almost makes me want to laugh at him.
“You don’t have to bus me around, Grayson,” I say, smiling at him. I know you have more important things to do at work than to take me a few miles twice a day.”
“Not anymore.”
“What do you mean by that?” I say puzzled, frowning.
“That’s what I was emailing my boss about. I informed him of my new schedule so I can accommodate your safe travel to and from work every day,” he says matter-of-factly.
Um, what?
I’m not sure if I should be excited, touched, or creeped out. “What?” I say. “Why? Can you even do that?” My eyebrows must be touching each other by now.
“I told you I didn’t like that bike; it’s not safe. And… this gives me a reason to see you every day.” He gives me a half smile, melting my heart all over again, and I can’t help but smile.
I lean over and give him a simple, soft kiss. “I do like that,” I say, looking him in the eye. “All right, twist my arm. I’ll see you tonight.” Give up a chance to see Grayson every day? Yeah, not likely!
“Right here. See you later.” He pulls me back for a second, slightly longer good-bye kiss. The truck doesn’t drive away until I’m at the door.
I walk into the building in a complete and utter daze, full of butterflies. I can’t believe how easy it is to be with him. It’s as if we’ve been together forever, not just for a few days. It’s a little scary.
Fast to fire, fast to burn out…
I can’t think about that right now. Pushing the thought back for another time, I decide to enjoy this relationship for now and not worry about the what-ifs, which are a little premature, anyway. We haven’t even classified this as a relationship. Technically. Yet.
I go down two halls to the left and find my uncle’s office. Considering I haven’t been here in years, I find it pretty easily. Opening the door, I find him already seated at his desk, working away on the papers laid out in front of him. His office is smaller than I remember, but then again, I guess I was smaller the last time I saw it.
Otherwise, though, Uncle Carl’s office is just as I remember—a twenty-by-twenty square with a wall of windows to the right of his desk, a wall of books behind him, and a small seating area to his left. There is a lot of dark-wood furniture with navy and gold accents. In the far corner by the window is a small desk with a chair and desktop computer. I guess that will be mine… if I survive today, that is.
He looks up as I come in and gives me a tight smile. “Hey Sam, come on in. You’re early; I like that.”
“I got a ride, so that helped,” I say, closing the door behind me.
His eyes widen and then narrow. “With who?” he asks quickly.
His tone puts me immediately on the defensive. “My roommate’s brother! Sheesh!” I say. I don’t mean to be short with him, but it just pops out.
“Grayson?”
“Yes.” I breathe in and shake away my attitude. “Sorry.” I take a seat in one of the armchairs in front of his desk.
He nods and goes back to his papers. “Well, I’m sure you’ve guessed why I really have you interning for me. I thought more and more about the drift you had, and considering the advanced work you’re already doing in drifts, I think we need to accelerate your… training. My only guess as to why you’ve been thrust into such intense situations is that you quite literally took your sister’s spot among the Divinely Touched.”
“Advanced? The Divinely Touched?” I really hope that came out more confused than annoyed, but I don’t think so.
Ignoring my questions, he continues. “I figure the best place to start is at the beginning, so you’ll get a history lesson this summer. Please go lock the door so no one walks in on what I’m going to tell you,” he says this without looking at me, still going over the papers before him.
Getting the cold shoulder from someone is just awesome, I think, dropping my bag in the second chair and complying. Returning to my seat, I play with my locket silently.
“Good. First, I want you to know that this is a comfortable place to speak freely. I have the office swept for bugs often.”
“Because of the people that want us dead?” I blurt out, but he’s not fazed.
“Yes, but also because sensitive information can be passed in this office, and you’d be surprised what tricks students will try to get the answers to finals. Fortunately, it also allows me to charge the campus for the bug sweeping and not look suspicious.” He lifts the stack and taps it on its end on the desk, straightening the pile. “Okay,” he says, finally looking at me as he sets the papers aside and rests his elbows on the table, steepling his fingers. “How much do you know about biblical history?”
Oh, goody… church! I do my best not to roll my eyes.
“Not much, really,” I say honestly. “Just the basics.” It’s not like I spend a lot of time in church outside of holidays.
“Well, there are events that occurred during biblical times—and other points in history, though most stem from BC—when God gifted people with certain abilities. Some are only grazed over in the bible. Some are known biblical text that weren’t allowed in the current biblical version of history—lost volumes, per se. Stories of these events were passed down from one generation to the next, but only within the families of the gifted. Of course, over time, many of these stories were lost as one generation either died or was otherwise unable to pass them on.
“You will need to understand and know this history, word for word, so you can hand it down to the next generation. You cannot change or alter this history, even slightly. If you do, generations to come will not know the truth. Do you remember the game we used to play when you were little—Telephone?”
I nod. We would sit in a circle while one person thought of a statement. They
would whisper it to the next person in the circle, that person would whisper it to the next and so on. By the time the statement got to the last person, it was usually garbled, making everyone laugh at how through only a moment or two, a single sentence could change so vastly from its origins.
“That is why you need to learn the stories exactly. Verbatim is key. There are five gifts throughout the early days of man that were given as blessings to the human race. Each one of these gifts must now be kept secret because man has, in the past, proven himself envious of those to whom God gifted these blessings. The five blessings resulted in five types of families: Samaritans, Muses, Cicerones, Drifters, and Guardians.” He extends a finger as he lists each type.
“As Drifters, we rescue those not yet meant to die and try to help people in delicate situations avert death. Samaritans help spread joy where despair and hopelessness pervade. Muses inspire man to dream and create things that captivate our minds and give us a release, keeping us from going mad.
“Cicerones are those who help us develop and progress forward via science and technology. They were responsible for the Industrial Revolution and did a great deal of work in the Ming Dynasty, Ancient Egypt, and Ancient Greece. Finally, Guardians are meant to be our protectors, our shields against the malevolence wanting to taint mankind.
“I will tell you the stories of each of the Divinely Touched during training, but I know they aren’t who you want to know about first…”
It’s his turn to start fidgeting, and he shifts uncomfortably in his chair for a moment, twisting his hands together. I imagine he’s waiting for me to ask him to finish telling me what he started to a week ago.
“Who wants us dead?” I ask. Attempting to sound braver than I am has never been one of my strong suits, and it fails me yet again.
My uncle nods shortly and rises from his chair, going over to the window. He begins to pace between the desk and the bookcase, his hands in his pockets. “Each gift, in some way, has helped further the progress of mankind throughout history. Whether we save individuals—like you and I are meant to—or inspire great minds like the Cicerones or bring peace to those in mental or physical anguish like the Samaritans, it is all for the greater good of mankind.
