by Dyan Brown
When she pauses, I dare to look at her. She is poised with tweezers at the ready in one hand, my forearm in the other, and her brows high up on her forehead in a wordless question to me. I can easily tell that the highlights in her hair are not natural but are made to match the highlights in her eyes. I give her an exasperated sigh and roll my eyes.
“He’s… old-fashioned.”
This doesn’t seem to appease her, but she huffs and returns to my stitch removal. Her frown lessens but does not disappear. “How long have y’all been together, again?” she asks, prying in an odd manner that I honestly don’t mind.
“Four months, I guess. It’s really not that long. You and Jay?”
“Three years, and you’re right, that’s not long. Are you okay with it?”
She pulls on another thread, more involved in the conversation than remembering to slowly pull the thread and keep the edges of my skin together. I wince, and she apologizes.
“No, I’m not, but he’s worth waiting for.” Truth. “And for the most part, I can respect him for wanting to wait.”
She huffs again. I guess she believes me as much as I believed the magician at my tenth birthday party was really magic. The thought makes me huff, too. “Done, yet?”
“One… more…” I feel a tug as the last thread leaves my arm. “There.” She smiles.
I look down. There’s a light pink line with matching dots along the sides. It’s amazing to think that just over a day ago it was a large gap in my arm.
“Well, you can still see it some, but this stuff should help. Don’t tell anyone I used this, though.”
I frown as she uses the tip of her finger to dab the mystery cream onto my arm, slowly and precisely. She presses gently on each tiny dot on my forearm. After a few seconds, I notice the first few dots have nearly disappeared.
My mouth falls open. “What is that stuff?”
“It’s an experimental cream we’re working on in my internship at Bio-tech.”
Her voice is higher-pitched than usual—so different, my eyes narrow in suspicion. Not making eye contact, Abby continues the path down my forearm, pausing at each blood-blotted mark with her cream. It took less time to remove the stitches.
“At least with this gone,” she says, “you don’t have to let the stitches keep you out of that dress and perhaps keep it from coming off later tonight,” she teases.
I decide to use my time wisely and concentrate on her, ignoring the unlikely possibility of being naked with Grayson and focusing on the crown of her head, waiting for her aura to show its color. I can’t get too excited; I know that will screw me up, and I could miss this opportunity. Few chances come along to sit and stare at other women without arousing some suspicion on the other person’s part.
Slowly, as she presses her fingertip into my arm, a soft blue glow pulses into her aura. My mouth drops in surprise, even though I knew it in my gut. I finally proved to myself that I can find a Divinely Touched!
I found a Touched! Abby is a Samaritan! My eyes brim with tears, blurring the bottom of my vision.
“Am I hur—is it hurting you?” she corrects, stuttering slightly. I’m stunned, but I shake my head.
I need to be careful. I have no idea what to say to her, even though I’ve run through this conversation in my head a thousand times since I knew I’d have to start recruiting. Usually my sarcasm overtook the conversation and I never figured out what to say. My mouth opens and shuts. When it opens again, it feels as though someone else’s voice says, “Abby, when did you find out you were a Samaritan?”
22
Abby stares at me, mouth open and eyes wide with fear. “Who are you?” she breathes, her lips barely moving with the words.
My eyes dart to the dressing room door. “I’m a Soul Drifter,” I whisper.
Her eyes get even wider as her brows pop up. “Really?” All her fear has been replaced with awe. “I’ve never met another Divinely Touched. I thought you may have been…”
I immediately shake my head. “I’ve never met another one, either. And I’ve never told anyone that I’m one too, until now.”
“Guess I really should be more careful about healing people. The lotion’s always worked on other people.” She screws the cap back on the tube and waves it a few times before tossing it into the bag at her feet.
Confession time—I have to start with someone.
“It wasn’t only the healing. I have another ability. I can see when someone is gifted. I’m supposed to find them and recruit them, I guess; that’s what I’ve been told, anyway. I just haven’t figured out how to say it. I don’t know how much other people know. This is all supposed to be so secret, so guarded. One slip and…”
“I know what you mean. Imagine me having to keep this from Jay.” She looks back at my arm. “Oh em gee! I’m so brain-dead. Of course you know exactly what that’s like. Grayson.”
It’s my turn to raise my brows and roll my eyes. “Grayson,” I repeat.
Looking back at the soft pink line on my arm, I decide for further disclosure. “I got cut while stopping a kidnapping a few nights ago. Two guys broke into a house and were going to kidnap the daughter of their ex-boss before her wedding this weekend.”
“I heard about that on the news! That was close to my internship! They showed the two guys’ mug shots on the news; they looked messed up. You did that?”
I nodded, trying not to seem prideful about it. “Yeah, I kinda kicked one of them down the stairs. Anyway, one of them had a knife, and that’s how I got cut.”
Abby glances back down at my arm. “You know, I can do way better than that.”
“Really?”
She nods, and I hold my forearm back out to her. She takes it and places her palm over the pink whelp of a forming scar, closing her eyes. Her grip grows warm and firm over the cut. I watch intently as her palm becomes hot against my skin. There’s a slight glow coming from beneath her hand that shines through her skin, making her bones and veins visible, as though she were covering a high-powered flashlight with her palm.
My arm tingles, and the light fades after a moment. As she slides her hand down to my wrist, both of us let out the breaths we’d been unknowingly holding. Smooth, pale, and utterly flawless skin is between us. All traces of the knife wound have vanished.
“Abby! You’re amazing!” I practically shout, and the lady at the counter very loudly clears her throat, causing us both to laugh.
She blushes. “Thanks! You were healing so quickly anyway,” she says, voice quieter.
My mind flashes to Cedrick taking out my conditioner. “Have you ever tried anything with your light besides healing?” I blurt before thinking it through. Immediately, I want to take it back.
“What do you mean? Like what?” She looks confused but is still smiling.
“My mentor… I was told we—any Touched—can… should... be able to use light as weapons against the Guild.”
Yeah, there. That’s good, simple.
“Use it against them? Like if they ever find us?”
Shit. I’m going to have to say it.
I don’t know why I was hoping that somehow people would just follow me blindly and not ask questions. I was far too optimistic, thinking my most difficult challenge would simply be to find the Divinely Touched.
“Like for when we find them,” I say quietly.
For the first time in four months, I was one hundred percent honest with someone. It was easier than I thought it’d be. I don’t hold anything back, telling her everything from Tessa’s mother to Uncle Carl’s threat of having me institutionalized and Grayson’s golden aura. I even slightly tell her about Cedrick, although I didn’t say his name or very much about him. He did ask that I not say anything about him, and I seriously doubt I’ll tell any other Divinely Touched about him. I just feel such a kinship with Abby.
We skip the spa, grab lunch to go, and hang out in the apartment talking until the boys come to pick us up for the party at the fraternity house. B
y this point, I seriously feel as though I’ve found my first true friend since Sahra died.
As Abby instructs, I put a black bikini on under my dress. There’s a hot tub at the house, and she insists we are relaxing in it tonight—especially since we’ll have our work cut out for us in the time to come. Just the expression lightens my mental load. I’m no longer alone. She’ll be fighting with me.
Abby repeatedly insists we’re not overdressed for what is supposed to be a small get-together of the fraternity brothers and their girlfriends. I trust her since she went to stuff like this last year. Once we’re both ready, I know I don’t appear over- or underdressed. She even does some of my makeup, keeping it on the lighter side by only doing my eyes.
When my phone buzzes on the bathroom counter, Abby grabs it and comes looking for me.
“They’re almost here!” she squeals. “Seriously, if Grayson doesn’t make a move tonight, we may need to re-think the man’s sexual orientation.” Her grin is so big you’d think she was the one finally getting some action tonight.
I laugh, assuring her he’s as straight as they come… I think. I won’t let myself expect too much. As much optimism as Abby has for Grayson and me to finally be together, she’s never been there when he’s pushed me away. I want to hope, too, but I think it’ll hurt too much if he pulls away again. That’s kind of why I haven’t let myself get closer to him in the last few months. Well, one of the reasons. Maybe it is time to test the water with him again. I love that Abby doesn’t make me feel like I’m just some horny teenager wanting to pop my cherry—which is how it feels every time he rejects me. I’m tired of feeling guilty for wanting him. There’s always this need to be as close to him as possible—physically, mentally, and emotionally. It already hurts to keep my distance.
Turning to take a last look before he gets here, I can’t believe how pretty I look. I’d never say that out loud but… wow. My eyes are darkened by the shadow and liner. Gold starts at my lined tear duct, fades to light brown over my lid, and curls into black at the outer peak of my eye, the effect making my lashes appear twice as long. With faint blush on the crests of my cheekbones and a rose-pink lipstick, my eyes are the statement. They are gold-green, even in the dull light of my small bathroom.
“Abby, you did an amazing job!”
“Oh, whatever! You know you’re a hottie.” She winks at me in the mirror. “All right, they have to be here by now. Let’s go!”
We walk into the fading sunlight as the brisk night air swirls around my calves. At the end of the walkway, we round the corner into the parking lot. I can already hear Grayson and Jay closing the doors to the truck, and I suck in a fortifying breath just before he comes into view. The guys’ chatter abruptly stops when they see us. Grayson is halted as though he’s hit a glass wall.
Jay is still coming for Abby and sweeps her up into his arms with a twirl. “You look hot!”
She squeals as she spins in his arms. I giggle at them and dare to glance back at Grayson, who is still stuck in place, dumfounded. I guess, by the fact that I’m wearing a dress—something I haven’t done since graduation, and I can’t remember when before that.
I close the gap between us and spread my hands to my sides, not realizing they’d been twisting together in front of my stomach.
“So, do you like it?”
Closer up, I can see a faint smile on his lips, thank God. I guess I really didn’t expect him to object to it, but it’s still a relief. Slowly, his smile widens.
“Oh, Samantha, you look amazing.”
The silkiness of his words makes my skin break into goose bumps. His eyes flicker to the couple still giggling and thoroughly distracted behind me, and then he comes to stand so close to me that my chest brushes his when we breathe in. I can feel the heat coming off our bodies, contrasting with the fall night air.
Grayson lifts his hand to brush a tendril of hair off my shoulder and leans down to my ear. “I’ve never wanted to rip something off you as badly as I do right now.”
The confession makes me release my lip from my teeth and gasp sharply. My breath vibrates as I exhale, and he gently drags his lips along the side of my neck.
“Later,” he whispers against my skin.
Oh, you have to be fucking kidding me! Seriously, who would miss us at this party? Take me back to my room NOW! my mind screams at him.
Just like that, he pulls back, utterly composed, and calls to the pair behind us to get in the truck. Absolute frustration and, against my better judgment, hope, bloom in my chest. Abby gives me a look full of ‘how did it go?’ and I think the only thing I can manage to do is give her a goofy grin.
23
As we drive the five minutes to the house, I listen to the chatter of the other three, trying to keep track of names and gossip surrounding who is who and who is no longer together with their ‘subject of the semester’ even though it’s only halfway through the first one of the year. Apparently, ‘players’ are a big joke to these men who see no point in hopping from girl to girl.
They seem to be sailing through a lot of names, which gets the better of my curiosity. I glance around the truck as we turn onto the street and find far more cars than normal. “How many people are going to be there?”
Jay clears his throat. “Um, thirty-eight brothers and their dates? So… seventy-six.”
My eyes nearly bug out of my face. “You have thirty-eight guys living in one house?” I’ve only ever been in the front foyer, and the place is big but not that big.
Grayson chuckles at me. “No, there are only fifteen rooms. They’re for select, upper classmen, and—”
“And the sons of very active alumni.” Jay cuts Grayson off and slaps his shoulder from the back seat as we park in his assigned spot.
Grayson squeezes my hand as he gets out, so I wait for him to open my door. Abby and Jay spill out the other side and walk around. We all walk into the house and see many couples split into small groups scattered around the first floor.
For a moment, I’m in disbelief. I said, ‘a few of the other guys,’ not the whole fraternity. How in the hell did he plan all this in a day?
I’m glad to see I’m not overdressed. Some of the girls look like they’re going to a black-tie event later. In the room to the right, a bartender pours short glasses of iced whiskey or bourbon and tall glasses of fruity-looking cocktails. I can see a DJ in the front of the room to the left, normally a media room, and I hear more music out back.
Abby comes over from the bar and hands me a fruit drink with lime and pineapple wedges on the rim. I take it, and then glance at Grayson, almost expecting him to swipe it from my hand. He just glances at it impassively and moves on to talk with another brother. I have half a mind to gulp the damn thing down just in case, but it’s not as if he said anything about it, so I simply sip it. It’s strange his straight-and-narrow path to everything rubs off on me the way it does. Good perpetuates good is the saying, right?
“Fantastic idea for tonight, Grayson! My girl is Love-ing-It!” A Hollywood-looking brother slurs slightly as he slings an arm around Grayson’s shoulder. “Only you could pull this whole thing together in a day. You’re truly one of a kind, my man!”
“Thanks, Collin,” he says to Hollywood impassively.
Grayson says, “It’s not a big deal, really,” and “Don’t mention it,” so often over the next few hours that I’m getting tired of listening.
Did he really have no help putting this thing together?
Even taking it slow after my second fruit cocktail, I’m feeling very fuzzy and warm. Things are quieting down as the four of us sit around the fire pit on the patio. Jay finally convinces Grayson that one or two drinks are not the end of the world considering it’s his house, we’re in college, and he has the day off tomorrow.
“In fact, I will cut you off if you even try for a third. I’ll hold you down and force water down your throat instead,” he jokes to Grayson as he hands him a short glass half-filled with ice and brown liq
uor.
“So, did you girls have a fun day out?” Grayson is obviously trying to change the subject, but he somberly takes a sip from the glass anyway. I glance up at him from my curled-up spot beside him on the wooden bench, and then look over to Abby, who’s cuddling up to Jay on the adjacent bench. Her eyes meet mine for a moment and she smiles, arching an eyebrow at me.
“Yeah, we had a blast. But we weren’t out, really. We did a little shopping at the one store, and then we went back to the apartment and hung out all day. I guess we’re both a little more inclined to watch movies than spend a day at the spa.” I smile at him, honestly.
He peers down at me for a moment, and smiling, places a kiss on my forehead. “Good, I’m really glad you had a good day. You needed it.”
I snuggle into his side and watch the fire as the guys banter back and forth about some Greek rules something or another. I’m not paying any attention, really. Between the drinks, the arm draped over my shoulder leaving his hand resting on my hip, and the warmth of the yellow, orange, and blue flames from the gas fire pit, it’s enough to put a girl to sleep. I’m content. It really has been an awesome day.
After about half an hour or more, Abby comes over and pulls me from my stupor of comfort and drags me to the bathroom. “Time to change! I told the guys to change, too.”
On the way into the bathroom, I notice the crowd has died considerably. “Where is everyone? What time is it?”
She looks around and then at her phone. “It’s midnight, so I imagine most of the girls had to leave to go finish their floats. And to follow their men,” she says with a grin, “to see if they can get some later.” She closes the door behind us. “Looks like only the live-ins are left.”
Abby starts stripping with no inhibitions about there being another person in the room. But I guess we are wearing swimsuits. Wow, my head is fuzzy. I turn, and she gets the top of my zipper so I can pull it the rest of the way down without a struggle.
