(SIR) THOMAS MOOREYou may have noticed my name sounds familiar. I share it with a number of people, but most importantly the great scholar, statesman, and saint Sir Thomas More, born in England in 1478.My mother was a devout Roman Catholic, and I assumed she picked the name to remind me of piety above all else. To remind me to choose God-given principles over king or scholarship or art . . . or even family.Since I was a child, I felt the pressure of this name. I took it seriously. That's the kind of person I am, I suppose. I wanted to serve my country. I wanted to serve God. And if sacrifices were called for, I wanted to possess the courage to make them with honor.My namesake set forth an almost impossible record of bravery. He watched his father imprisoned by King Henry VII because of his own deeds. He wrote a brilliant critique of English society in his work Utopia. Ultimately he was canonized for putting his head on the chopping block rather than compromising his basic beliefs for t
ABOUT SEXBut maybe he would be curious. And maybe a tiny bit interested? Was it possible?
A CREEPY PERVERTGAIA MOORE? ARE YOU WITH US?Gaia snapped her head up. She glanced around at the unsympathetic faces of her classmates. Which class was this? What were they talking about? She gave her head a shake to dislodge her heavy, demanding preoccupations.Let's see. Ummmm. Ms. Rupert. That would be history. European history. Which century were they in now? Which country? She hadn't looked at her textbook in a while."No, ma'am, I'm not," Gaia replied truthfully.Ms. Rupert's eyes bulged with annoyance. "You're not, are you? Then would you be so kind as to share with me and the rest of the class what you find so much more captivating than the court of King Henry VIII?"Gaia drummed her fingers on her desk. Did Ms. Rupert really want to know the answer to that question?"Yes, Gaia? I'm waiting." Her hands were on her hips in a caricature of impatience.Apparently she did. "I was thinking about sex, ma'am. I was thinking about having sex," Gaia stated.The class disintegrated into laughter
HOW HE FEELS"SO WHAT IS THE PROBLEM?" DANNY Bell wanted to know. He said it so loudly, Sam had to hold the phone a few inches from his ear."Well, I guess . . . I don't know." Sam scratched the back of his scalp absently. "I'm not really sure how I feel about her."Sam watched colorful pipes weaving three-dimensionally through the computer screen that sat on his crowded dorm-room desk. He'd set the screen saver to come on after ten minutes of idleness, but when he was talking on the phone or procrastinating, the damn pipes seemed to take over his screen every thirty seconds."You're not sure how you feel about her?" Danny didn't go far out of his way to hide the incredulity in his voice. "Let me get this straight. You have a stupendously gorgeous girlfriend who you've been with for six months. She wants to have sex, and you're suddenly not sure how you feel?"Sam could picture exactly the look on Danny's face, even though he was three thousand miles away. Danny was his oldest and closest f
GHOSTSHis heart, his life, his sense of life's possibilities was shaken.
REMEMBERING KATIATOM MOORE KNEW HE WAS CRAZY TO BE doing this. He walked down Waverly Place in the West Village with his head throbbing and his heart full. Just two blocks from here, in a tiny bookshop, he'd first laid eyes on Katia. It was probably the most important moment of his entire life, and yet he hadn't been back here in twenty years.It was, without question, love at first sight. It was a freezing cold day in February, and the city was bleak and dismal. The previous night's snow was no more than a brown, muddy obstacle between sidewalk and street. He'd been looking for a rare translation of Thucydides for his graduate thesis. He was stewing about something -- that his adviser hadn't credited him in a recent publication. He'd seen her as soon as he'd opened the door. The shop was a tiny square, for one thing. But Katia seemed to draw every atom in the place to her. In that moment Tom's entire life evaporated and a new one started.She was sitting cross-legged in the corner, bent
DARTS"WAIT, SO YOU RE NOT GOING TO Robbie's tomorrow night?" Melanie asked Heather, scrambling to keep up with her friend's long, efficient strides. "According to Shauna, it's a two kegger with zero parents."Heather shook her head. "Nope. Other plans." She smiled in a way that was mysterious and maybe a tiny bit smug. She glanced up the crowded block of Eighth Street. There were two good shoe stores before they even got to Patricia Field, and Melanie and Cory Parkes were already loaded down with shopping bags and struggling to keep up. Heather was famous among her friends for being a very fast walker and an intensely picky shopper, but the truth was, she no longer had a duplicate of her parents' credit card, the way many of her friends did."Other plans?" Cory demanded, gulping up the bait as always."Sam and I are . . . getting together," Heather offered."So bring him to the party," Melanie said, falling back for a moment as she rearranged her bags between her tired hands."I promised hi
IMPOSSIBLEStupid, moron, shit-head CJ was sticking his stupid gun in her face again.
THE VIGILANTEEVER SINCE SHE'D WOKEN FROM THAT dream, Gaia was so distracted, she could hardly remember to breathe regularly or feed herself or put one foot in front of the other when walking.Ow. She kicked her big toe hard against a ledge in the cracked cement sidewalk and stumbled forward.She certainly couldn't be bothered to come up with appropriate kiss-ass behavior for the vice principal, which was why she'd sat through detention, which was why she was walking home late.She arrived at the corner of the park. Cut through or take the long way?In her state, the right thing to do was go around. How was she going to make the dream happen if she got shot today?She cut through, anyway. To do anything else was purely against her nature.Would Sam be at the chess tables today, and if so, what should she say? It was time to get serious about her plan. No more being shy. No more being awkward. Her dream emboldened her.Oh God, and there he was. She spotted him from the back, playing chess with
NO MORE THINKING"THAT'S HER! THAT BLOND GIRL!"Gaia was rounding the corner of Bleecker Street less than sixty seconds later when she heard another commotion behind her. Gaia turned her head partway, and out of the corner of her eye she saw two policemen pointing after her. The big man in the suit had managed to sic the cops on her in record time.She didn't turn her head any farther or slow her steps. The cops hadn't really seen her face yet, and she meant to keep it that way.It was wrong and bad to run away from cops, but Gaia was really tired now, and she hadn't done anything illegal, except maybe flip the balding guy, but he was strangling her, and he deserved it. Furthermore, she had given him ample warning.She would just run away from them this one time, she promised herself. In the future she would be extra friendly and helpful to the police.She was coming up on her favorite deli when she had a brainstorm. The hatch to the basement, a sprawling black hole in the sidewalk in front
WEARING PATIENCE"THAT STUPID, STUPID GIRL!" HE paced the floor of the loft, pausing briefly to kick an ottoman out of his way. "Ella, did I not order you to kill that lowlife the same way you killed his friend? What is the problem here?"Ella glared at the parquet floor. "I said I'm trying, sir.""Clearly not very hard. You are a trained assassin, need I remind you, and he is a pathetic, imbecilic teenager. Do you honestly need backup?" He beckoned to his two omnipresent bodyguards, who stood at attention several yards away."No," Ella said firmly.He glared irritably at Ella. Was she not adequately frightened of him anymore?He methodically took a gun out of his drawer, walked over to her, and pressed the barrel to her fore-head. "Ella, you know I would as easily kill you as ask you this a third time?"She didn't meet his gaze. "Yes, sir.""I've taken some pains placing you with that doormat George Niven, so I'm forced to be patient with you. But know this, Ella. My patience is wearing."No,
CLINGINGHOW LONG HAD HE BEEN SITTING here? Tom wondered, looking up at the ceiling of the diner absently. Cracks riddled the surface of the plaster, buried under multiple coats of high-gloss light orange paint. The color was the same as the bun sandwiching the burger that sat on his plate, which he hadn't found the appetite to eat.He truly hadn't expected to see Gaia. He hadn't prepared himself for it. Now his fragile hold on life's priorities were shattered once more.His baby. His child. His and Katia's. His thr
oat ached at the memory of her face. He'd known she'd be grown-up now, much like a woman, but he didn't know. He hadn't been ready for it.He'd always imagined she would grow up to be a beautiful woman, being Katia's daughter, but he was surprised by precisely how. She wasn't petite like her mother. She was tall and lanky, like him. Her hair had stayed that glorious pale yellow. He would have guessed it would fade and darken, as most child hair did, but hers hadn't. It had remai
FROM THE WAIST DOWNHis desire rose to an unquenchable thirst as he burrowed his lips in her soft, buttery hair --
CONDOM SHOPPING"GAIA, IS THAT YOU?" ED FARGO stared at the pretty brunette in the wide-brimmed straw hat, sunglasses, and flowery dress standing in the doorway of his family's apartment."Yes. Duh," she replied somewhat impatiently.Ed studied her for another moment in confusion. "Why are you wearing a wig?""What wig?" Gaia asked."Have you been a brunette all this time and I just didn't notice?" Ed asked, feigning innocent surprise.Gaia rolled her eyes. "I'm not wearing a wig, smarty-pants. I colored my hair with washable dye," she explained reasonably."Oh. Aha. Okay, then."Ed shut the door behind him and locked it, and he wheeled along next to her down the hallway to the elevator. Gaia, typically, didn't offer any more information."Would you mind if I asked why?" Ed asked as the elevator arrived and Gaia pushed him in.Gaia tapped her foot on the linoleum floor. "What happened to your promise not to ask questions?""I meant I wouldn't ask questions about big stuff," Ed said defensively. "
THE WRONG GIRL"PLEASE TABULATE YOUR RESULTS according to the format Dr. Witchell presented in the lecture on Thursday."The very droopy-looking kiss-ass teaching assistant droned on as Sam pictured the way Heather would look when she appeared in his room that night.It was unfortunate that his lab section of biochemistry had to meet on Saturday. It was especially unfortunate on this Saturday, when his mind was impossible to contain.Would she wear that short black skirt that made him drool? Maybe one of those miniature T-shirts she had that showed off her belly button? And what about under it? It probably wasn't a good idea for him to go there right now, but he couldn't help it. He pulled his chair up so his waist pressed against the table and further obscured his lap with his notebook. It was highly embarrassing to get excited in class -- something he hadn't done since seventh grade.He'd made his way into Heather's sexy satin bras before. That was a pleasure he was looking forward to. Bu
HEATHERLittle-Known Facts about me:The summer before my sophomore year, I fell in love. It was the most idyllic summer you could possibly imagine. My family had rented a house in East Hampton that year. My mom and sisters and I stayed for the whole season, and my dad came out on weekends. Those were the days when my dad's business was doing really well.Ed Fargo was spending the summer at his aunt and uncle's place just a few blocks away. Ed's folks are teachers, but his aunt is this big-time lawyer with a beautiful house right on the beach.I was working at the farmers' market in Amagansett, and Ed was working at a surf shop on the Montauk Highway. Ed is a year older. You've met Ed, so you know he's seriously good-looking, funny, charming, self-deprecating, super-sharp, and generally a great guy. He was also an amazing surfer. This all took place before his accident, as I'm sure you've already guessed.Anyway, our love story would take too long to describe here, but it was the most magic
READY. OR NOT.Heather paused at the door, hesitant for some reason to commit herself to this strange night.
JUST GOGAIA WAS AS CLOSE TO NERVOUS AS a girl who lacked the physical ability to feel nervous could be. She had taken a long bath and spent hours picking out a bra and underpants that wouldn't be completely embarrassing if revealed. She'd brushed her teeth twice.She spent several minutes naked in front of the mirror, worrying that she was too fat. After she talked herself out of that, she worried she was too skinny -- bony limbed, underdeveloped, and flat chested.She couldn't stop herself from making comparisons to Heather. Her body wasn't as feminine as Heather's. Her breasts weren't as big as Heather's. Her feet were definitely much bigger. Her hair wasn't as thick as Heather's.Gaia had even reverted to the tactics of a seventh grader by calling Sam to make sure he was in his room, then hanging up as soon as he'd answered.Now, standing in the middle of the floor, wearing the slinky pink dress she'd "borrowed" from Ella and a pair of heels, she felt like a big, oafish fraud. Why was s
HESITANT"THE GREEN OR THE BLACK?" HEATHER asked her sister Phoebe.Phoebe leaned back on her elbows on Heather's unmade bed and sized her up. "The green is prettier; the black is sexier.""Black it is," Heather said, pulling the close-fitting sweater over her head. "Can I borrow that gauzy dark red skirt?" she asked, scanning the many piles of clothing that covered her floor."Big night tonight?" Phoebe asked suggestively."I hope so," Heather answered in a way that was mysterious but didn't openly invite further questioning.On the one hand, it was annoying that Phoebe came home from college almost every weekend. She was a sophomore at SUNY Binghamton and hated it there. She referred to it as Boonie U. and was constantly composing the personal essay for her transfer application. Heather reasoned that if Phoebe spent even half that time on her courses, she could actually make the grades to transfer. Heather didn't mention this to Phoebe, of course. Phoebe's old room had been partitioned off
SINCERE"OUCH. SHIT," SAM MUTTERED, putting his index finger in his mouth. He'd tried lighting the candle, but the wick was buried in the wax, and when he'd dug for it in the hot wax, he'd burned himself.He lit the wick again. It took this time, but the flame was sputtering and underconfident.He sniffed at the air. Crap. The candle was advertised to smell like vanilla, which he'd hoped would cover any residue of dirty-room odor, but instead it smelled like floor cleaner.He was nervous. He couldn't help himself. He glanced again in the mirror. It seemed stupid to take pains with his clothing when the whole point of this evening was to be taking them off as quickly as possible. He'd actually brought his khakis with him into the bathroom and taken an extra-steamy shower in the hope of getting out some of the wrinkles. He'd put on his softest oxford shirt and carefully rolled up the cuffs. It reminded him of Christmas Eve. All those hours he spent wrapping and tying up presents, when it was
A FAILED EXPERIMENTAGAINST HIS BETTER JUDGMENT, TOM Moore saw Gaia rounding the corner of West Fourth Street and followed at a safe distance. As a father he needed to see her safely to her destination, wherever that was. Then he would get on a plane back to Lebanon and resume his mission, leaving romantic notions and painful memories behind.Based on her strange outfit, Tom guessed Gaia knew she was in danger. With her remarkable hair stashed away under her hat and a scarf and glasses obscuring her face, she was almost unrecognizable. Gaia was well adapted to taking care of herself, he told himself as he followed her east toward Fifth Avenue. He'd taught her the skills she'd need, and her miraculous gifts more than outstripped his teaching and his own abilities, in truth.Tom, too, had been a prodigy. He had an extraordinary IQ, almost perfect powers of reasoning, and an intuitive genius for understanding the motivations of the human mind -- particularly the criminal mind. He had been vi
EDMy views on Luck:Before my accident, I used to think I was the luckiest guy in the world. Then I had my accident, and I sort of believed I deserved it because nobody stays that lucky. I used to think that luck got around to each of us equally. When things went badly, you were sort of saving up for a stretch of good luck. When things went too well . . . You get the idea.According to this theory, I would be in for some good luck, right? I mean, a guy who's in a wheelchair shouldn't have parents who bicker constantly, for example, or an older sister who's ashamed of him. He shouldn't be abandoned by the girl he believed to be his one true love.But the theory is wrong. Luck doesn't shine her light on each of us equally. She is arbitrary, irrational, unfair, and sometimes downright cruel. There are people who spend their entire lives basking in her glow, and others never seem to get one goddamned break.Luck is powerful. Don't mess with her. Accept her for what she is and make the best of
ITHe couldn't hold back much longer without a really good reason.
&
nbsp; THE BIG MOMENTSAM HAD A NEW RESPECT FOR biology. Although his mind floated somewhere near the acoustical tiles on the ceiling, his body did all the things a body needs to do in order to successfully propagate the species.He gently, efficiently removed Heather's sweater and expertly navigated her tricky front-fastening bra. He gazed at her lovely breasts hungrily, feeling the blood flow to his nether regions quadruple in under two seconds. He pulled her skirt over her perfectly shaped hips, revealed dark purple satin panties equal to his daydreams, and forced himself not to go further yet.Biology was exerting so much force, Sam had to battle himself not to remove that last bit of Heather's clothing or to pick her right up off the floor, put her on his bed, and hurtle forward into the main event. But he was a gentleman. He'd toughed it out before, and he could do it again. His older brother once told him that if you found you were undressing the girl and yourself, take a break and ask yo
CRUEL LUCK: 1THE HALLWAY OF SAM'S DORM looked surprisingly like the one in her dream, but Gaia's feelings were different. She didn't feel sexy and bold. She felt insecure and deeply self-conscious.First she knocked on the outer door that read B4-7. Sam's room was B5, so it had to be through there. While she waited for an answer, she pulled off her wool cap and shook out her hair. She unwound the scarf and stowed the ugly glasses in her bag. Her eyes caught the package of condoms floating at the surface of her bag, and the eager box threw her confidence even more.Gaia knocked again. She waited for what felt like two weeks, but nobody came. Had Sam managed to slip out between the time she'd called and now? She thought she heard a noise inside. Was it okay to go in? Was it kind of a public room?The thought of trudging back home to Ella and George's house in defeat, potentially only to be hunted down by CJ, was so unappealing, she turned the doorknob and walked inside.It was a good-sized r
Fearless: No. 2 - Sam (Fearless) Page 14
