by C. G. Blaine
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.
He grins, both dimples proudly displayed. “You’ll figure it out.”
My mouth falls open as he slams the door. The universe isn’t guilty of fucking up my dating life. It’s my fucking Guardian Angel.
I’ll be the first to admit, I underestimated Hannah. Not once, but three times. She proved herself perfectly capable of handling the truth about me. She accepted the fact that she’s Nephilim. And now she’s bound and determined to screw Gabe just to show me she can. Unfortunately for her, she’s also underestimated me and my well-crafted skills in sabotage.
Saturday night, she struts out of her building, wearing a light-gray sweater dress that barely reaches mid-thigh, black boots that hit above her knee, and nothing but skin in between. Rosdan would be drooling as much as one of his charges.
I’ve seen the outfit, and I know exactly what she plans to do with it. Well, what she planned to do anyway.
She should be leaving for a date, dinner at Gabe’s—he cooks. Instead, she comes to a stop in front of me. My gaze catches on her legs before making it all the way up to her face.
She sets her jaw and crosses her arms over her chest. “A gas leak at his apartment?”
“Safety first, Hannah. What kind of guy would Gabe be if he let you come over and exposed you to the fumes?”
“You’re an asshole,” she says, turning around.
I watch her stomp back up the sidewalk and into the building.
The next evening, I wait in the same spot. I lean back against my bike, ready for her when she comes to a frustrated halt in front of me. She’s in a tight gray miniskirt, fitted white sweater, and tights. She lets out a huff and just glares without a word. It takes one hell of an effort to keep a semi-straight face.
Finally, she says, “You poisoned him?”
“No.” I straighten up to defend myself. “Giving someone who’s lactose intolerant milk is not poisoning them. It’s encouraging them to build a tolerance.”
She takes a deep breath and lets out an exasperated groan, storming off.
By day three, I call in reinforcements—Chaz, my go-to man for fresh ideas. He does not disappoint. I don’t even try and keep the smile off my face this time, seeing Hannah explode through the door. Her spiked heels click down the sidewalk, and my gaze rakes over her, starting from there. Those legs are bare again, all the way to the hem of a short blue-and-white-striped dress, partially covered with an oversize maroon scarf.
She walks straight over to me and starts batting at my arm. “Chickens!” she shrieks.
I laugh, turning away while she lets out her rage. Once she calms down, she takes a step back onto the curb. A section of hair falls from her messy bun, and she blows it out of her face.
Maybe it’s the light inside from her outburst or the fact that I’m running out of schemes that don’t include farm animals, but I sigh. “I’ll back off.”
She looks up from the cement between us, surprised. “What?”
“Go out with Preppy.” I swing a leg over the seat of my bike. “It should only take you one real date to realize he’s not worth the energy you’re putting into him.”
Hannah’s face relaxes along with her stance. “Thank you, Cass.”
I shrug, already regretting it. “Don’t get fucking pregnant.”
She backs away a few steps and smiles at me before spinning around and heading inside. My eyes fall shut as I take a deep breath. I might have just screwed myself, all for a smile.
I’m sitting at the bar Wednesday night when my phone vibrates. It’s a text from Hannah with a picture of her placing a pill on her tongue.
Cheers.
I check the crystal ball. She’s sitting on her bed in yet another fuck-me outfit, staring at her phone. I snap a picture of the recently refilled whiskey tumbler in front of me and send it back. The fact that she’s on birth control should ease the nagging feeling in my gut, but I find myself draining my glass and waving over the bartender for another.
The stool next to me fills with a redhead with legs for days. I’m drunk enough that my eyes linger wherever the hell they want, which happens to be everywhere.
“Hi,” she says.
My attention finally makes it to her face, and when the bartender sets down another drink, I slide it over to her. I ignore the buzzing phone on the bar and tuck the orb back in my jacket pocket. A night off from Hannah duty might not be the worst thing to ever happen to me. In fact, it’s exactly what I need.
We finish off a few rounds and then paw at each other in the back of an Uber. When we get inside her apartment building, I lift her up, pressing her against the back wall of the elevator. It takes two floors of grinding on her to notice the person hovering in the corner, but at this point, the doors are opening on her floor.
She tugs me down the hall by the bottom of my leather jacket and unlocks her apartment. I back her in, but after she tosses her purse on the table, she pulls her tongue out of my mouth.
“I’ll be right back,” she says.
My hand rakes through my hair as she disappears down the hall. “Fuck.”
I collapse on a couch that looks like it’s seen its fair share of action. The apartment’s small. Other than being on the fourth floor, I have no idea where I am or what part of town I’m in. Not that it matters.
Thanks to the booze, I almost miss the heat hit my chest until it starts burning hotter. My mind shoots to Hannah, and without considering the reason, I call up her image in the ball.
She’s straddling Gabe’s lap, the two of them making out on a black leather couch. I recognize his apartment from when I pretended to be from the gas company and convinced the owner to evacuate the building. It’s big and open, and he only has a table lamp on instead of the track lights overhead.
I lie to myself that I’m watching to make sure there’s no threat lingering in the shadows, but really, I’m interested to see this guy in action. Or lack thereof. He lets her run the show, keeping his hands on her thighs as she rocks onto her knees. She holds both sides of his face, kissing him. Her teeth tug at his bottom lip, and she pulls at the back of his head, wanting him, yet his hands stay planted. I almost yell instructions at him on how to give her what she’s practically begging for, but my own redhead lands in my lap.
“What’s that?” she asks. Her lips find my neck as soon as she finishes the question, so I doubt she cares about the answer.
I look back at Hannah’s face, the light spreading outward from my chest and through the rest of me. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes closed, and I can feel her. Teeth graze over my earlobe, and I let the ball bounce off the couch cushion. One hand jerks the girl’s hips forward, holding her tight against me. The other reaches for the back of her neck. My fingers thread through her hair, and I pull her face to mine.
The energy inside me intensifies with Hannah front and center in my head. And it’s her moaning into my mouth and desperately clawing at my shirt. It’s me between her legs, lifting to meet her hips. Me she wants.
“Shit.” I move the girl off me and onto the couch. “I need a minute.”
I nab the ball off the floor and head down the hallway until I find the bathroom. The door bangs shut behind me, and I scrub a hand over my face. What the fuck? I can’t remember ever being this hard with my clothes on.
I brace myself on the counter over the sink in the tiny room made even smaller without windows.
Light still pumps through me when my phone vibrates. I fish it out of my pocket and read the two words Hannah sent.
Find me.
Since I already know where she is, the drop comes without thought. I land in a dark area off to the side of Gabe’s apartment building. She paces the sidewalk not far from where I stand. I glance around, trying to find what has her so worked up, but we’re alone.
“Hannah,” I say, stepping out of the shadows.
She turns around and nails me with a gl
are. “You can feel me having sex, can’t you?”
I stop moving, not sure how to safely respond. Most of my charges had sex—except a handful of super nerds and a few who took vows of celibacy, but even they were turned on from time to time. Adrenaline increases in both instances. I’ve never had a problem ignoring it though. Hell, I’ve never wanted to do anything but ignore it. At least, not until I imagined Hannah grinding against my dick instead of Gabe’s.
No answer proves enough for Hannah.
She marches toward me, pissed. “I can’t be with anyone, knowing that.” She shoves me in the chest without much effect other than chipping away at my patience. “This is all your fault.”
When she tries for a second time, I catch her wrists. I resist the urge to tell her to calm down because it’s me who needs to get a grip. The energy is cycling between us, out of my hands and into her and then right back to me as her pulse races under my thumbs. It sends my nervous system into overdrive, my breathing heavy. My attention drifts down to her mouth, her full lips slightly parted.
I’m about to do something really stupid when I look up and see the resentment in her eyes. It’s the same feeling I’ve always had for her, and it helps me see past the surge of power blinding me.
“I’m going to be miserable and alone for the rest of my life because of you.” She jerks away, and I release my hold on her.
“Let me know once you hit a few thousand years, and I might give a shit.”
I walk away, hearing her storm off the other way. Whatever this experiment with her was, it’s over now. She can know what I am unless it complicates things. Until then, we can go back to how things have always been—me waiting for her to get the hell out of my way.
Weeks pass without a word from Cass. Every once in a while, I think I see him off in the distance when I’m coming out of class or walking back from the dining hall at night. And it probably is him. He wouldn’t want anything to happen to his precious ticket into Heaven.
Knowing he has a direct connection to my sex life moves Gabe and me into the slow lane. Anytime my heart rate increases, I picture Cass. Not exactly ideal when trying to hook up with someone else. Of course, Gabe’s understanding and sweet, never pushing the subject or asking for more between us. Only that makes me even angrier with myself for not just getting over it. It’s not like Cass hasn’t been there for every other time.
A few days before winter break, I take a time-out from studying for my last two finals and drive Terra to work. From the sounds of it, her social calendar is already filled for the two weeks she’ll be in Rhode Island with family and friends.
“When do you leave?” she asks.
I shrug, careful in how I word my reply. “My last final’s on Thursday.”
“Any last-minute Christmas shopping you want to do before then?” She raises her eyebrow, looking at me out of the corner of her eye.
“Only for my adorable roommate.”
She giggles, holding her hands above her head in the shape of a halo, and I smile.
At some point, she decided the reason I don’t talk about my parents is because we don’t get along. I’ve never lied but never freely offered information either.
Around the holidays, she poses vague questions, and I give vaguer responses. It works because she doesn’t like the heavy stuff, and I hate the look of pity people give me when they know.
I pull to the curb outside the clothing store, and she scuttles up the sidewalk. On my way back to the dorms, I stop at a small boutique. We agreed to wait until she comes back from break to exchange gifts, but she’ll probably change her mind, so I need to be prepared. After I buy the top she’s been drooling over for weeks, I toss the bag in my backseat. I turn the ignition but only receive a click, click, click.
“No,” I say, trying again.
Click, click, click.
I groan, dropping my forehead onto the steering wheel. Not knowing anything about cars other than where the gas goes, I dig out my phone and call Gabe.
He answers on the first ring. “Can’t get enough of me, huh?”
“Something like that. My car won’t start.”
“I’m at work until seven,” he says. “You want me to see if I can leave early?”
“No, it’s fine. I’ll see if anyone has jumper cables or knows how to work the little hood-latch thingy.”
“My little mechanic.” He chuckles. “Let me know if you don’t have any luck, and I’ll try to get out of here.”
As I hang up, a knock on my window startles me. I look over at Cass staring down at me. I open my door, and he reaches down by my leg and pulls a lever, making my hood pop. I brace for his mood and get out to join him at the front of my car.
He props the hood open and wiggles cables around. “Try starting it again.”
My car door dings when it opens, but nothing happens when I turn the key.
The hood drops shut, and he walks around to my side. “Battery’s shot. Get your stuff. I’m taking you back to the dorms.” His eyes dart across the parking lot to a man standing by a light post, and if possible, he grows more serious. “Let’s go.” He grabs my arm and pulls me out of the car.
“Stop it, Cass.” I twist away once I get my footing. “I’ll call a tow truck and wait for Gabe.”
He closes the small amount of space between us, his eyes darker than I’ve seen them. His words come out almost as a growl. “Get the fuck on the bike, Hannah. Now.”
“Fine,” I hiss.
I gather my purse and the bag from the backseat. He slams the door and guides me around the car with his hand on my back. We’re almost to his bike when a tug on my shirt slows me down, but then he’s pushing me forward again.
Cass swings his leg over the bike. I loop the bags over my arm and climb on behind him. Like always, he tears out of the parking lot. It only occurs to me when we stop at a light that he never gave me time to put on the helmet.
He cuts the engine outside the dorms. “If you give me your car key, I’ll get it taken care of.”
I let go of his shoulder once my foot touches the concrete and switch arms with the bags. “It’s fine. I’ll call someone in the morning.”
My phone goes off. I show him Gabe’s name on the screen, and he smirks.
“Better get it,” he says. “We’d hate for him to worry.”
I walk away a few steps and answer.
“I just stopped by the dry cleaner for my cape. Do you need me to play superhero and come rescue you?”
“No, I found a ride back to the dorms, and I am just walking in.”
“Damn. Good Samaritans are always stealing my thunder.” He laughs. “Well, since I’m off, you want to grab dinner?”
“Sure. I’ll see you soon.”
When I turn around, Cass is watching me. His overpowering stare holds mine until my heart beats faster. He looks at his hands and stretches out his fingers, feeling the change. His eyes come back with a different look in them, but I only stay for a second longer. For once, I’m the one walking away.
Because I still don’t want him in my life.
Christmas was the holiday in our house. My parents owned no decorations for Easter, Halloween, or Thanksgiving. But come the first day of December, the North Pole threw up all over the place. Fake snow everywhere, tinsel hanging in every doorway. Our cat wore an elf costume for twenty-four days in a row. And that was just on the inside. We needed extra circuits added so that we wouldn’t constantly blow breakers with all the outside lights.
I remember how embarrassed I would be at the matching sweaters my mom coordinated for us and the giant Rudolph nose and antlers my dad wore anytime we left the house to do something holiday-related. Yet, come Christmas morning, I’m not only wearing a bright green sweater with Bigfoot in a Santa hat and red bikini, but a headband with antlers. At least I forgo the nose.
The dorms have been abandoned for winter break, except for a janitor I scared a few days ago. To mak
e up for it, I carry down a plate of Christmas cookies to leave in his closet for the next time he works. I open the door to blackness and feel around on the wall for the light switch. Not finding it, I step farther into the darkness. Maybe it’s a string you pull.
I balance the paper plate in one hand and check out the room using my phone screen as a flashlight. It lights up a person standing in the corner. I scream, backing toward the door, but I run into a hard chest as hands grab my arms. Cass moves me behind him, keeping a hand on me while his other illuminates the room. About the time his shoulders relax, I realize the person is a mop, leaning in the corner.
His hand falls away from my hip, and he turns around.
“Sorry,” I say.
He shrugs, less annoyed than I anticipated. “I expected you to be jumpy today. You watched three horror movies before bed.”
Another stupid tradition—watching scary movies with Christmas themes on Christmas Eve. That one was Dad’s favorite. He’d wait until right before a jump scare and shout, “Merry Christmas!”
Mom would attack him with a pillow, beating him into submission.
Cass steps aside and holds out a hand, lighting a path so I can set down the cookies. On my way out, I hang a little wreath ornament on the handle.
“I can’t believe you still do all this crap every year.” He looks down at the front of my sweater. “I think that’s my least favorite of the collection. You should wear the one that says, ‘Go, Jesus. It’s your birthday.’”
I laugh, knowing the exact sweater he’s referencing—my mom’s proudest find—but then, thinking about it sends tears rolling down my cheeks.
“Shit, Hannah.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I wasn’t trying to be a dick.”
“No.” I shake my head, wiping a sleeve under my eyes. “It’s just nice, talking to someone who knows about the crazy stuff we did. I thought I was the only one left to remember, but you were there for it all.”
