by M. W. Muse
I got dressed and headed to work. When I got there, Tracy was mopping up water, and Chrys was up on a ladder, taking down waterlogged ceiling tiles.
Apparently, the roof had leaked from all the rain. I felt a little smug that Ms. Gorge's store suffered from the consequences of her actions.
I went to the supply closet and retrieved another mop to help Tracy. "How bad is the damage?" I asked Chrys while I mopped.
"Not sure. Mom is tracking down the handyman since it's Sunday." "I take it she's not in the best of moods."
He stared down at me with a wistful expression. He wanted to apologize, but he couldn't. Not with Tracy around. Besides, since he said we couldn't talk about this at work anymore after that first time, maybe he wouldn't voice an apology anyway.
He straightened his face before he spoke. "No. She's not."
I nodded and went back to mopping. Chrys stepped down, asked me to help him check for other damage, and instructed Tracy to open the store in five minutes. I followed Chrys down into the basement, and he turned to look at me.
"We're not checking on flood damage, are we?"
"No. I already checked down here before Tracy arrived," he said quickly. "Then what are we doing down here?"
"I need to talk to you."
"You said we couldn't talk about things here anymore." "I don't have a choice." He sighed. "Are you okay?" "Yeah, why?"
"Because you know about my mom. The weather was horrible in Florida last week, and I'm sure you've heard the weather was unseasonably pleasant here while you were gone."
"I already thought about that," I said curtly.
"I was so furious with her. I tried to talk some sense into her. I hated she was ruining your vacation!"
"She didn't ruin it for me," I lied. "It gave me a reason to stay inside and do some research." Which was true.
"I'm really sorry." He stepped closer to me.
I stepped back and realized I was up against a wall. He took another casual step in my direction. We were now uncomfortably close, though I was the only one who was uncomfortable.
"It's not your fault." I looked away from him.
"It is partly my fault." He leaned over, forcing me to meet his gaze. "I know my mom has some vendetta against your mom and, more recently, her negative feelings against you have intensified. I know I'm the reason for that."
"Don't worry about it."
He almost smiled. "I don't have a choice. I have to worry about it because I worry about you."
"Chrys," I breathed and shook my head. I didn't know what to say. I didn't want to hurt his feelings, but I didn't want to give him the wrong impression, either.
"Don't." He raised his hand as if he were going to touch my lips to keep me from talking. Then he stopped and put his hand down. "I understand how you feel. I don't want to put you in a position where you can't stand to be around me. Even if we're not meant to be together now . . ."
"Stop," I whispered. "I don't want to think about that." I stepped to the side to get away from the wall. "I really do appreciate your honesty, but I'm with Don." I looked into Chrys's eyes. "I want to be with Don."
"I know." He dropped his head.
Ugh. Why was this happening? "Look," I said softly, walking toward him, "I do like you . . . as a friend. My life changed a few weeks ago, and I feel like you're someone I can really talk to about . . . about things that I can't talk about with other people."
He smiled, but it looked pained.
"I don't want you to be sad about how things are with you and me. I like our friendship . . . just the way it is, but if you can't handle keeping our relationship as it is, then maybe we shouldn't—"
"No! Don't say that. I, um . . . You're right. We can keep things strictly on a friendly level. Just don't say you don't want to be friends with me. I get that you want to be with Don, but I couldn't bear the thought of you not being in my life at all. Friends, I can do."
"Friends," I emphasized. "Friends," he agreed.
I waited a moment to let that sink in. I wanted to be sure he was clear on how I felt about him before we went on. "Can I ask you something?" I asked after several minutes had passed.
"Anything." And I was absolutely sure he meant that.
"I had another dream last night about weather. Since Melissa said my mom would be contacting me—but she didn't know when or how—I think maybe these dreams are my mom's doing. What do you think?"
"Hmmm . . . I don't think so. I think it's your subconscious trying to work things out, but it's good you're trying to consider all the possibilities."
I gasped. "Do you think it could be your mom's doing?" I hadn't even thought about that until now!"
"No," he said calmly. "She can't get into your dreams. We're not descended from Hypnos's line."
"Who's Hypnos?"
"The god of sleep. He had four sons with Pasithea: Icelus, Morpheus, Phobetor, and Phantasos. Their sons were known as the Oneiroi. But Morpheus is the Greek god of dreams. If one of the gods is involved in manipulating your dreams, I would think either Morpheus himself or one of his descendants who retained some power over dreams would be the one behind that. We're not part of that lineage, so I know my mom can't do that."
He spoke so freely about his Greek Mythology knowledge. I immediately found myself wanting to know everything that he knew.
I stepped quickly over to him and grabbed his arm. "You have to tell me everything."
Chrys was startled but willing. "Um, what do you want to know? There's so much."
"Who did you descend from? Did you ever live here before? Do you know why it's been prophesied that we'll be together?" I tried not to squirm when I asked the last question.
"I came from the line that started with Phorcys and Ceto. They were sea gods who were both created from Gaia, a goddess of nature. They had some monster offspring that paired themselves with more noble mates to produce a better line. But since the monster genes are in my family's gene pool, sometimes new gods can be more monster than noble." He paused and looked down. "Even those of us who are not monsters tend to have evil tendencies."
"What does that mean?"
"Well, let's just say my mother's behavior comes naturally." "What about the rest? Have you ever lived here before?"
"Yes. Well, not in this town, we lived about ten miles out of town when I was a
baby."
"So your family could be why my mom left?"
He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "I don't know for sure, but, yes, I
think my family was partly to blame. It's not like my mom has ever given me a play-by- play of her actions."
I dropped his arm and folded mine over my chest. "And the prophecy?"
"I don't know anything else about that. Like I said before, I just found out about it a few weeks ago. I already told you everything I know about that," he whispered.
"What else don't I know that you know that I should know?" I wondered if my question made sense to him, but it was obvious that it did.
"Umm . . ." He shrugged one shoulder. "I'm sure you're most curious about your family. After I found out about the prophecy, I tried to do some research. I haven't really come up with anything." But it was obvious he wasn't being completely forthcoming.
"You know something."
"Only pieces. I haven't connected them yet, so I can't really say what I do know.
Believe me, if I did, I would tell you. You know I can't deny you anything." "What about my name?"
He stared at me cautiously. I apparently hit a topic he'd already considered. "Melissa told me Season was a family name. I figured it was a hippie thing, but
maybe instead of Season being a family name, it's representative of my family somehow. And when I was in Florida, I did some research and found out Zeus was born in Crete. That's my last name. Like you told me, there are no coincidences."
"I've thought about both of those, and I think you're right. But what I think about your name is part of those pieces; it's still a
puzzle."
"Please just tell me." I touched his shoulder. I knew it wasn't fair to persuade him this way, but at this point, I didn't care.
"Okay," he whispered in defeat. "I figured you came from one of Zeus's lines because of your last name. But . . ." He looked at me intently. "Zeus has many, many lines. He has many offspring created from many different entities. It's a start, but not a very good one."
I nodded, waiting for him to continue.
"But he did produce an offspring with a goddess, who descended from Gaia, the goddess of nature."
"The same one that your ancestors descended from?"
"Yes. We have a few weather abilities mixed in our line because of Gaia, but her line through Demeter, the goddess I considered, has a more natural, nurturing power."
"Demeter?"
"Yes, I think there's a possibility your family descended through that line. Your mom's name is Dem, a variation of Demeter. Your name is Season, and seasons are dependent on climate periods, which are natural, earthly. But I don't know this for sure. I don't want you to take this information as fact. I haven't verified anything."
"But that's a good guess."
"There's one more thing." He paused to make sure I was paying attention. "Because of Demeter's association with Zeus, she had ladies-in-waiting, priestesses, if you will. They were responsible for taking care of Demeter's needs. Whatever she needed, no matter what, they always took care of her. 'Melissa' was the title given to these women, which happens to be your guardian's name."
I shook my head and felt tears glistening in my eyes, shocked as those pieces fell into place. Chrys put his arms around me and hugged me gently. I stepped away, still dazed.
"Season, please . . . please don't tell anyone about this. If I'm not right, I don't want it to cause you any trouble. If I am right, no one can know it came from me. People who know about my lineage don't trust my family. If they find out you found out through me, they'll try to discredit the information."
I nodded and dabbed the tears from my eyes before they could spill over. "Thank you for telling me all this. I know you didn't want to talk here. It really does mean a lot to me that you did, though."
"Whatever you need, whenever you need it, I will always be here for you. Your needs are too important to me, and at this point, I don't really care what my mother thinks about us. I do want you safe, and if she knows we're talking about this, she'd freak out." He sighed, shaking his head. "But if you need to talk to me, then I'm going to be here for you, no matter what. I may not have all the answers, but I'll give you whatever I have . . . always."
I appreciated Chrys for helping me and was beginning to feel like he was a true friend. As long as he didn't expect anything romantic, then I was all for his friendship.
Chapter 12
"What do you mean, you have to be in the Fourth of July Parade?" I asked Chloe while we were testing out shades of blush at the mall.
"Our squad's doing a float. I'll be cheering and throwing out candy, and I want you to come and watch. Zach's going to be there. You can meet him."
I didn't want to go to the parade by myself, but she was my best friend. I could suck it up for one afternoon.
"When the parade's over, we can get a funnel cake and play some of the games until the fireworks display."
"No, I'll leave after the parade. I don't want to be a third wheel." "You don't have to be a third wheel. Bring Don with you." "I—I don't know about that."
"Season, c'mon! You are dating Don. There's nothing wrong with you asking him out for a change."
"I'll think about it." But I liked it better, knowing Don was doing all the asking at this point.
While Chloe picked out the shades she wanted, I told her about my conversation with Chrys. Even the details about how protective he was of me. She had paid for her products, and we were back in her car by the time I'd finished.
"I think we should do some research on this Demeter chick," she said, pulling out of the parking lot.
"Yeah."
"It seems weird, though, that he didn't want you telling anyone about this. I mean, I get what he said about his family, but still, you have a right to tell people."
"I don't think he meant it that way. He's just worried what people will say about him being the source."
"People like Melissa."
"And people like Don." "Don?" She frowned.
"Yes. Don thinks Chrys's family is bad news."
"Why? You don't think Don is like you and Chrys, do you?"
"No. Chrys called him mortal. Besides, there's that whole prophecy thing. Chrys acted like Don was an innocent bystander, unaware of his involvement. If I'm with Chrys, then Don can live a blissful life without me. If Don dies, then Chrys and I can't be together. He thinks Don is the link, but that that is the extent of his involvement."
"So are you going to keep this from Don?"
"I don't want to. He came over last night after I got home from work, and I wanted to tell him. But after the way he acted the last time we spoke about Chrys, I think I should wait until it makes sense to me before I try to explain it to him."
"So when are you seeing him again?"
"Tomorrow. He's taking me to his house for the official girlfriend meet-and-greet with his mom. He's sort of done that already with Melissa."
"Your mom's priestess." She laughed.
I stuck my tongue out at her. Priestess? What next?
* * *
The next morning, I got up and got ready for my day with Don. Since I was nervous about seeing his mom and it was a million degrees outside, I searched for something nice to wear that'd keep me cool. I settled on a coral skirt, so hopefully, Don would be able to contain his desires a little more successfully than he did last time I wore one.
After I put on my silk shirt, I fixed my hair in a loose up-do, slipped on some flat shoes and accessories, and headed down to the living room. It was quiet since Laurel was at school, and Melissa was already at work, but I didn't have to wait long. I heard Don pull into the driveway and didn't wait for him to come to the door.
steps.
"What are you doing?" Don asked while I was locking the door.
I jumped. "You scared me!" I turned around, and he was walking up the porch
He laughed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." He put his arms around my
waist and hugged me while watching my eyes. "You should have waited for me to come get you."
"Don't be silly, I heard you pull in."
"But you're by yourself, and it could've been someone else. Next time, please wait for me to come to you if you're here alone." His eyes showed concern. He was obviously bothered by the fact that I was home alone.
"Fine."
He took both my hands into his. "You look ravishing. That color is beautiful on you." He bent his head and kissed my cheek.
"Are you sure I look okay? I am in a skirt." I laughed.
"You can wear a skirt every day. I promise I won't mind at all." The corners of his mouth twitched, fighting a smile.
I rolled my eyes. "Let's go." I dropped one of his hands, keeping the other.
He followed me to his car, letting me in first. I leaned facing him, with my knees together, slanting toward the gearshift. I rested my arm casually on the middle console, so he could hold my hand if he wanted without having to reach for it on my bare legs. Even though he did recover by the end of our date the last time he touched my leg in a skirt, I knew we didn't have time to wait out a similar reaction.
My preparations weren't necessary because he didn't grab my hand. After pulling out of the driveway, he nonchalantly placed his hand on my left knee.
I suppressed a gasp, but I couldn't do anything about my racing heart. My breathing sped as I glanced down at his big, strong hand resting gently on my knee. He moved his hand softly, stroking my skin, and it felt absolutely wonderful. My leg tingled at his touch, and my mouth fell open for the air to come more easily. I was breathing much too fast at this p
oint, unable to concentrate.
Good grief! I was worried about his reaction to the skirt, but I was the one falling to pieces! I needed to pull myself together. I took a deep breath and looked up at him.
He had a smug look on his face.
Smug? I felt a challenge coming on. Two could play this game.
Don had on light tan shorts, which were loose and longer than my skirt, almost covering his knee, but that wouldn't stop me. I shifted slightly in preparation for my attack.
Don kept his eyes on the road while I set my plan into motion, but I decided I should first distract him in case he suspected my plot. I slipped my hand underneath his arm that rested across the console. I kept my eyes on him, and he smiled at my touch, but his smug expression didn't completely dissipate.
I rubbed his arm a few more times, and then I was ready to make my move. I eased my hand from his arm, moved it over to his right knee, and pushed back his shorts so that my palm was on his bare leg. His shorts fell over my hand, which was now only partly exposed. I gently stroked the inside of his thigh with my fingertips.
Don's expression suddenly shifted. No longer smug, I could tell he didn't expect me to touch his leg. Good. His breathing picked up, and it seemed as if he were trying hard to concentrate on something.
I didn't realize at first—since I was enjoying my little victory—that my breathing had, too, quickened again. I found myself caressing the inside of his leg more than I originally had planned. It felt so good. It obviously felt good to Don, too. He tried to control his reaction, but this time, he was letting himself enjoy the touch a little, rather than trying to ignore it all together.
His mouth fell open, and I could hear the quick breaths he was taking in. Every now and then, when he exhaled, he'd shut his eyes in a long blink. Just watching how he reacted made my heart pound in my chest. I felt flush all over, and even though the air conditioner was on in his car, it was beginning to feel very stuffy in here.
I couldn't feel his touch anymore on my knee. He was now stroking above it, inching a little higher toward the hem of my skirt. I relaxed into my seat and glanced at
