Misty Falls

by Joss Stirling

  It was too much to take in.

  Then don’t. He had caught the beginning of my panic attack.

  What are we going to do? I asked. I meant in the future, bringing our two very different lives together, overcoming my negative effect on his gift, but he chose to misunderstand me.

  ‘I think the best plan,’ he had reverted to speaking aloud, ‘is to kiss you. That way you won’t have time to panic.’

  That made me look up. His eyes were bright with exhilaration at our discovery. He was also teasing me.

  I had to check. ‘You want to kiss me?’

  He rolled his eyes, showing a humorous side I hadn’t yet glimpsed, appealing to the heavens to help him with his idiotic soulfinder. ‘Give me strength. Misty, don’t you know when a guy has been dying to kiss you for months?’

  Clearly not. ‘You mean you wanted to kiss me in Cape Town?’

  ‘Yes, in Cape Town, and with those ridiculous penguins, and on the top of Table Mountain. Don’t you know how kissable you are?’

  I quickly licked my lips, worrying that they might be too dry and cold. ‘But I thought you wanted to dump a bucket of ice over my head when I beat you at table tennis.’

  His mouth quirked charmingly. ‘That too. I never claimed I was consistent. You infuriate and attract me in equal parts.’ He leaned forward and kissed the end of my nose. ‘By the way, I demand a rematch.’

  ‘Only if you’re ready for me to thrash you again.’

  ‘I’m ready for you this time; I won’t be so easy to beat.’

  I was still thinking through the ‘kissable’ comment. He was telling the truth but it didn’t chime with my impressions of our encounters in South Africa. ‘But at the beach, you walked away from me.’

  He sighed, knowing that the kiss had been put back a while so we could sort this out. ‘I walked away from the family I didn’t have. You told me I didn’t have it in me understand yours.’

  I replayed the conversation, seeing how he might have thought that if he was particularly sensitive. ‘I didn’t mean it as an insult! I meant we are a bunch of loonies, beyond anyone normal’s comprehension. I was putting you in normal camp, not mocking you.’

  His palm had settled on my hip, warmth seeping through the layers of coat and skirt. ‘I’ve always wanted to be part of that kind of crazy gang, more than anything. All the savants I’ve met have that; I felt a freak of nature being alone.’

  I may be incompatible software as far as his gift went, but I could at least give him his heart’s desire because I came from the box fully charged with family: Mum, Dad, sisters and brothers, grandparents, uncles and aunts galore. ‘Welcome to mine then. They will be embarrassingly delighted to have you.’

  Alex moved his hands to frame my face, thumbs brushing stray curls off my cheeks. Kiss back on the agenda.

  ‘My stupid hair; it’s always in the way.’ I hurried to bundle it back but he stopped me.

  ‘Leave it. I love your wayward hair. Gorgeous colour—streaks of sunshine. It’s like you.’ He twisted a curl round a finger, fascinated by how it clung.

  ‘I’m not sure I believe you because you told your friends … ’

  ‘I know what I told my friends. I could hardly admit to them that I wanted to bury my hands in your hair.’ His actions matched his words.

  ‘So, what, you were like the little boy who flings frogspawn at a girl to show he likes her?’

  He laughed at the picture. ‘Not entirely. See, I didn’t know my girl was listening. I was playing down my attraction to you—and you did look wilder than normal that evening. Super cute. It was very funny.’

  ‘And my presence forced you into speaking a truth but you slanted it for your audience.’

  He nodded. ‘You blow me off course; you can’t help it. I meant to be cool and it came out cruel.’

  Was I going to let him off? ‘But what about all that “she’s the last girl I’d date” stuff?’

  ‘Ah.’ I’d caught him out. ‘You can’t expect me to say in front of my big-mouth friends that you’re lekker.’

  ‘Lekker? ’

  ‘Beautiful.’

  From the slant of his smile I guessed that wasn’t quite the right translation but I decided to look it up later.

  ‘They’ve been trying to get me to admit that I had a thing for you with me acting so different around you. But you saw how they were when you made me confess that I’d had a crush on Miss Coetzee; they would’ve been really annoying for weeks if I’d even hinted I liked you.’

  A little alarm bell rang that he had felt forced. ‘That’s the only reason?’

  ‘You’re not letting me duck this one?’

  ‘What you said about me embarrassing you haunted me for months.’

  He took my right hand to his mouth and kissed the fingers. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t get away with half-truths around you, can I? It’s going to take some getting used to. I guess the real reason was because you seemed too young and sweet for me and I became a fool around you. As I’m waiting for my soulfinder, I only date girls who don’t turn me into an idiot.’

  ‘Only dated girls. Past tense.’

  ‘Yes, past tense. ’ He brushed a snowflake from my cheek. ‘And I’m well past tense waiting to kiss you. Am I done explaining myself?’

  I nodded. Oh lord, it was more difficult now he had announced his intention. I’d never kissed a boy, not properly. Until now it had always been short-lived experiments in dark corners of parties, which I hadn’t really liked. Something had always gone a bit wrong, usually me laughing nervously and annoying my partner. No boy had said he had had his socks blown off kissing me so I considered myself a failure at it.

  ‘What do I do?’ I asked.

  ‘I was hoping you’d just enjoy it.’ He smiled self-deprecatingly. ‘It’s not a test.’ He closed the gap and put his lips to mine. This was no clumsy mashing of mouths and teeth; no desire to laugh; it was a sweet exploration of soft textures and warmth. He shifted our positions so that I was leaning back, his face above mine. One firm hand supported me between the shoulder blades while the other caressed my hair, neck, even my ear. I hadn’t realized how sensitive these places could be; it was as though he was switching them all on to hyperawareness with every pass of his fingers. It was a hello of a kiss, a this-is-what-we-can-be-together promise. His embrace felt so strong, so right, as he guided me through the moves without hesitation or awkwardness. I wanted it to go on for ever; it made so much more sense than talking; but finally he broke away. We held each other’s gaze as gently as we had kissed.

  ‘Did I do it right?’ I whispered. Stupid! What did I expect him to say if I were a disappointment to him?

  ‘You did it right,’ he confirmed. Then endearingly he added, ‘Did I?’

  ‘Oh yes.’

  ‘I’m pleased. I’ve never kissed my soulfinder before.’

  Fine flakes of snow fell steadily. I could no longer ignore that my holed tights were doing an inadequate job of keeping me warm and that Alex had to be freezing having come from a South African summer. ‘Shall we go in?’

  He pulled me to his side, sharing body heat. ‘You’ve just found your soulfinder and you want to go back in there so you can stand with a tray all evening?’

  ‘No—I really don’t.’

  ‘Not to mention answering all the questions your friends will have for you—and Uriel—and Miss Coetzee.’

  ‘Oh no.’ I shivered. They would go crazy when they heard and it would be so cringeworthy.

  ‘Good. I vote we leave a message that we’re not returning to the party and go for a walk together.’

  ‘In the snow?’ I looked down at my shallow-heeled pumps.

  ‘Yes, in the snow.’

  ‘That’s insane.’

  ‘Yes, it is.’

  ‘Let’s do it.’ Standing up, I stamped my feet to get the blood flowing. Hey, Summer, can you and Angel cover for me. I’m going for a walk with Alex.

  She was onto me like a shot. Going for
a walk with Alex!

  What are you now: a parrot?

  So is he … ?

  Yes.

  A telepathic shriek is even more deafening than the audible version. I knew it!

  No, you didn’t.

  Well, I hoped. I can’t wait to tell Angel.

  That was a good plan. The two of them could get over the initial most flustering phase of celebration before they met us. Can you tell Alex’s team mates he’ll see them later?

  Will do. Oh Misty, it’s just so right. I can’t tell you how much it means to me!

  Thanks, Summer. Just as she had promised, she was thrilled for us both. I can’t say I would have been so noble if fate had been the other way round, even with my best efforts, but then it had been my soulfinder with whom I had been trying to set her up. Maybe I had known … ?

  Nah. I was just not such a nice person. I would have been green with envy. See you later then, Summer.

  Don’t hurry back; I’ve got it covered this end. Summer ended the link.

  ‘All done. We are free to go.’

  Alex brushed the snow off my shoulders. ‘Show me your city, Misty.’ I loved the way my name rolled off his tongue in his accent, giving the ‘t’ a little kick.

  Cambridge is a beautiful place: quaint streets, old colleges built like castles or cathedrals. The city was full of students, the roads busy with other young people like us out for the night; we were hardly noticed as we moved among them. A busker played a violin under the cover of a cafe awning. A hen party in riotous white and pink clipped past on the scent of some free drinks. Cyclists wound through the throng, ringing their bells with little reaction from the slow walkers in the middle of the carriageway.

  ‘Is there somewhere quieter?’ asked Alex. Neither of us wanted a party atmosphere.

  ‘Yes, if the gates are still open. The paths through the colleges onto the Backs—that’s the riverbank—are usually locked at night.’

  Alex steered me out of the path of a cyclist with no lights. ‘That won’t be a problem.’

  He wasn’t lying. ‘You sure?’

  ‘Yes. You don’t know everything about me, Misty.’

  ‘Actually, I know next to nothing: it’s pretty scary.’

  ‘Same for me about you.’ He took a woollen hat out of his jacket pocket and pulled it down over my cold ears. ‘You know my gift works—present company excluded—as a kind of charm?’

  ‘Yes, Tarryn explained.’ Again, there was that issue which we hadn’t yet faced; it clearly worried him as he kept mentioning it. Should I say something? Bring it out into the open? Alex, however, took the conversation off in another direction.

  ‘It’s not just people. I can charm locks too—and many other things.’

  That news distracted me from my worries. I’d never heard of a gift like this before. ‘How does that connect?’

  He linked his hand with mine. I had gloves in my pocket but much preferred to feel his touch on my skin. ‘I think I persuade them into the state I want them to be. If it’s a person, I convince them my argument is right; if it’s a locked door, I persuade it that it really wants to be open.’

  ‘That’s … amazing and a recipe for you to be a master criminal.’

  ‘I admit there’ve been times when I’ve been tempted.’ A new thought struck him. ‘Just as well I’m linked to someone who would make me confess—no itch to try my hand at a heist if I know I’ll just spill all to the police later when questioned.’

  ‘At least I’m good for something.’

  ‘I expect you, Misty, are good for everything.’

  That wasn’t quite a truth but neither did it register as a lie. Sometimes I wished I could switch off my gift and just allow myself to enjoy flattery without dissecting it. ‘It’s sweet of you to say so.’

  We reached the gates of Clare College. Kings and Trinity may be more famous, but I always thought Clare was the real gem of the colleges on the Backs. Blending with a party of students, we got past the porters at the main entrance, crossed the quad of pale stone buildings and approached the wrought iron gates guarding the bridge over the Cam to the gardens. This had a key code.

  I stood at Alex’s shoulder trying to see what he was going to do.

  ‘Maybe you’d better stand back,’ he warned.

  ‘Oh yes. Sorry.’ We hadn’t tested how close I needed to be to him to cancel his gift. I walked about twenty metres away. When I turned, he had the gate open.

  ‘Wow, that was quick! Ocean’s Eleven could do with you on the team.’

  He gave me a mischievous little smile that even George Clooney could not beat. ‘Those guys? Misty, I wouldn’t need ten partners to break into a casino. I could do it myself.’ And I could just see it. He could take the manager aside and persuade him that it was a really great idea to hand over the cash and then forget all about him.

  Linking arms with my Ocean’s One, we slipped through the gate and walked onto the bridge.

  ‘This is breathtaking.’ Alex stood in the centre, taking in the beauty of the gardens and colleges of Cambridge neatly outlined in snow. ‘I love how old everything is here.’

  ‘We’ve got plenty of old, it’s true.’ I looked over the broad stone parapet, thinking of the generations of students who had stood here in their black robes and mortar board caps. The river was a bolt of inky silk constantly unrolling. On either side, the low banks were luminous with their fresh covering of white. I could even make out the reeds and grasses sagging under the weight of the snow, bowed like thousands of tailors sewing away at the seams of the water. The pinnacles of King’s College chapel razored the sky with their blades. Each tree and bush was an impossibly intricate lacework of twigs. The bridge we stood on, a hinged ruler over the river, had pale grey stone balls marking the angles of the arch. The snow had settled on the spheres like very silly toupees on display in the window of some eighteenth-century wigmaker.

  ‘Pretty, isn’t it?’ I didn’t add that I also thought it intensely romantic. It was inspired of Alex to suggest we stayed away from the party.

  He leaned beside me, small finger on his right hand touching my left. I wished I could take a photo to keep the memory: his square-nailed strong fingers and my small oval-shaped ones resting lightly on newly fallen snow. His and hers.

  ‘Very pretty.’ He was so close I could feel the warmth of his breath on my cheek. ‘But I like the view this way even better.’ His head was turned towards me.

  I moved to face him. ‘You know, I was thinking just the same thing.’ Though I was trying to sound as confident of my moves as he was, there was a tight knot in my chest—excitement but so much fear that I was going to mess up. ‘Sorry, but it’s so much to take in, Alex. You—me—soulfinders. I think I’m having a little trouble just breathing.’

  ‘Let me help you with that.’ He brought his forehead to mine, cool hand cupping my neck. ‘Breathe with me.’ We took a couple of breaths together. ‘Better?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Part two of your relaxation therapy.’ He pulled me into another kiss. We were both smiling at each other. I went on tiptoes to meet his lips; he leaned down to me. My hands fluttered then rested on his shoulders, his settled on my hips. This time was even better as I was less anxious. Very quickly I would be addicted to his taste and scent. I was determined to keep hold of the details, learn him as I knew myself. His aftershave had traces of spice and sandalwood, but there was also something under that which was purely him. It spoke to my body, waking me up, tuning me into my soulfinder on a level much deeper than conscious thought. Slowly we were working our way to harmony.

  His mouth was impossibly soft. It was not just charming words that came from it; every kiss cast its spell. There was no gift being exerted persuading me he was good at this—he didn’t dare risk it near me. I was thankful because that would have felt fake. It had to be just innate talent.

  We broke apart.

  I laughed, a little nervously. ‘Wow. I am one lucky girl.’

&nbs
p; ‘And I am one happy guy.’ He brushed the back of his fingers against my cheek.

  We walked slowly back to the party through the silent snowy gardens along the river. That night, it was hard to believe that anything could upset the bond we had so quickly established.

  ‘So, Alex, what do you think makes a good debater?’

  That question came from a man on the front row. I sat at the back of the Cambridge Union debating chamber as far away from Alex as possible as the South African team fielded the questions from the small group of specialist journalists gathered to interview them. This year’s competition had attracted more interest than usual because three countries had coincidentally elected presidents or prime ministers who had been former winners of the International Debate Team Cup.

  ‘The first thing you need is an understanding of the subject.’ Alex leaned a little closer to the microphone, fingers touching lightly in front of him as if dancing through the words. ‘By that I mean you have to know the different opinions people hold so you can argue effectively and win them round, like a cook selecting the right spices to appeal to a diner’s taste buds.’

  Alex was so gorgeous when he was earnest. Had anyone else noticed? I thought the thirty-something reporter from the Times Educational Supplement had, because she was doing that coy flick-of-the-hair-with-a-pencil thing. Hands off, I thought grumpily, catching a glimpse of my future of predatory females driving me nuts.

  ‘Picking up on my colleague’s question,’ she said in a sultry tone worthy of a late-night radio announcer, ‘I think there’s more to it than that. Winners aren’t just about intellect. What do your team mates think?’

  ‘Obviously, charisma wins half the battle—just look at us,’ Hugo said, spreading his arms as if to say ‘what’s not to like?’ about his own personal appeal.

  She gave an annoying little laugh. ‘I get your point.’

  The shifty-looking man who had asked the original question spoke up again, pencil making a rapid tapping on his pad. ‘Apart from the usual charisma, I was interested to find out if Alex here thought any special powers were necessary?’