Now that we are outside the glass doors, it's safe to let her go. I release her legs and she lands on her feet with a thump.
"Oh!" she exclaims and grabs onto my arm to steady herself. Not expecting her hold, I tense and jerk my arm away. I pull her with me and she almost falls before I catch her.
"You startled me," I tell her.
She huffs out a breath. "Well, you startled me first! You don't just scoop someone up in the middle of a crowd and then plop them unceremoniously in the parking lot without a word."
"I spoke words. More than one."
She throws her hands up. "I can't even. I can't!"
"You can't what?"
Her fists tighten at her sides and she's talking through her teeth now. "You're pissing me off."
I blink and pull away from her. "Oh."
She folds her arms across her chest, and all I can think about is how the material across her breasts tightens and I can see every curve. I'm obsessed with imagining what they look like underneath her shirt. It looks like she has very pretty breasts. As pretty as the rest of her. "Well...should I not be pissed off?"
I think about that question for a minute, but am startled when she hits me on the arm.
"Stop staring at my boobs!"
I rip my gaze away from that perfect chest.
Then she says it. That phrase I hate more than anything else. "Look me in the eyes, Wil."
My stomach drops and I feel nauseous. I hate it when people tell me that. I hate it more than when they call me retard or Rain Man or whatever else I've been called. Because the people who say this to me are not my enemies. They are people I care about--my friends, even my family. I swallow and stuff my hands in my pockets, but I'm still staring at the ground.
"Look at me!" she repeats.
I take a deep breath, and then, because I don't trust my voice, I shake my head, balling my fists inside my pockets.
Chapter 7
Jenna
I wasn't quite sure what was happening. It had started out as a fairly enjoyable trip to a hockey game, but things had deteriorated quickly. Now William and I were hashing it out in the parking lot of the Honda Center, getting quizzical looks from security personnel.
"Look up, Wil."
Instead, he rubbed his hands down the sides of his thighs, then turned on his heel and walked away.
Just like that. At full speed. Like he didn't even want or expect me to keep up.
I had to run to catch up to him, and by that time we were on a narrow sidewalk along a busy avenue. I stuck to his heels as we crossed the river and cut over into the theater parking lot.
He sped up once we reached the lot as if avoiding the possibility of me walking next to him. Heaven forbid that happen. "William Drake. Stop right now!"
He stopped but didn't turn around.
I caught up with him and moved into his line of sight. "Well?" I said.
"Well, what?"
"What the hell was that? Why did you storm off?"
"Because I didn't want to say anything rude, and you made me angry."
"Because I asked you to look me in the eye?"
"Yes."
"Well, maybe I'm just tired of you looking everywhere but my eyes."
He blinked. "It's difficult."
"Why?"
He shook his head. "Because when I'm looking in your eyes, I'm too distracted to hear what you are saying. It's intense."
"What's intense? I mean, I know I'm beautiful, but..." I joked in an effort to lighten the mood.
"Yes. You are beautiful. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."
I sucked in a breath. Wow. He'd said it in a matter-of-fact tone as if stating that the sky was undeniably blue. There was no art to the words, no obvious attempt at flattery. Why was my throat closing up like this?
"I was joking." I laughed self-consciously. "I'm not really that full of myself."
"I don't know what that means. But you shouldn't joke about being beautiful. It's not a joke." He stuffed his hands into his pockets and waited.
I felt both uncomfortable and pleased at the same time. My cheeks were flaming hot and--ironically--I couldn't meet his gaze even if he wanted me to.
"I didn't realize," I suddenly blurted, my voice trembling with regret.
"What?"
"That it was so hard for you to look in my eyes. I thought that was a myth. I don't spend a lot of time around autistic people."
"It's hard to look in anyone's eyes, but easier if I know the person." I was flooded with relief that he seemed okay discussing this. "Mostly it keeps me from focusing on what is being said. It also makes me feel like I'm violating that person's privacy."
"By looking in their eyes?"
"Like I'm seeing things that I shouldn't see." He shakes his head. "I get tired of having to explain it to people. And you aren't going to get it so--"
"The eyes are the windows to the soul," I interrupted quietly.
"Eyes are not windows."
"It's a metaphor, Wil. It means that a person's eyes can show what's going on with them beneath the surface. So maybe you're feeling like a Peeping Tom?"
He was quiet for a long time, shifting from one leg to the other. "Yeah, so maybe if I make eye contact with you as long as you want, you'll let me peep through your window."
I opened my mouth, about to lodge a protest, when I saw the smile on his face. He was rather pleased with himself and his joke. "Ha ha. Then again, you do stare at my boobs enough."
"I like your breasts." His eyes darted to my chest, causing my nipples to tighten under my t-shirt.
I folded my arms to cover my unconscious reaction and laughed. "I can tell."
"And your butt. And your legs. And--"
"All right, all right. I get the picture. Let's get in your car," I said with an exasperated sigh. Typical man.
William opened the car door for me and then walked around before sliding in behind the wheel. As we headed out of the parking lot, I dared a glance at his chiseled profile.
I wasn't above feeling gratified when a hot guy noticed me. And evidently, William had. He thought I was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. His compliment--couched more like an observation of fact--made me feel more glorious and radiant than Aphrodite when Adonis chose to be with her over the goddess Persephone.
We grabbed some fast food from a drive-thru and ate it in the car to avoid the dinner crowd. Then William took me home and, taking his chivalrous duties seriously, insisted on walking me up two flights of stairs to my door.
I wasn't entirely sure why I wanted to kiss William so badly--well, maybe because he's freaking hot as hell--but if there was ever an opportunity, this was it. So I leaned in to kiss him goodnight. He was so much taller than me that I pushed up on my tiptoes, expecting him to lean in, too.
No such luck.
He must not have known what I was attempting to do, which would explain why he stepped back when he saw me leaning toward him. I lost my balance, but he caught me, and his strong arms stayed wrapped around me for a few moments longer than they needed to be. There was something electric in that embrace--a heaviness in the air, like before a rainstorm.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
"Uh, yeah," I said, feeling my face burn. Thank goddess it was dark outside. "I, uh, I just wanted to give you a goodnight kiss."
A pause. "Oh." He cleared his throat. "You should have told me."
Slowly, stiffly, he bent down, and I--now embarrassed beyond belief--turned my head and quickly landed a peck on his cheek. Then I reached for the knob to scurry off into my apartment and lick my wounds.
I was detained when William hooked a large hand around my arm.
"That's not a goodnight kiss," he said.
"Oh? So then--" And that's all I got out before his mouth pressed against mine. I barely had a chance to catch my breath before I was on the ride of my life...
I opened my lips and suddenly something inside of me jolted, like a rollercoaster hittin
g the track at full speed. The shock was such that I almost pulled back.
I was certainly glad I didn't when William reached up and slid his palms to the back of my head, his fingers weaving into my hair. I pressed my hands to his broad chest as he pinned my body against the cold metal door. Struggling for breath, I felt that kiss not just at the juncture of our lips but all over my body. From the top of my prickling scalp, where his fingers rested without ever relinquishing their hold, to the tingling in my toes.
It was almost too much. And yet I wanted more. Like the craving of an adrenaline high on a rollercoaster after the first breathless dip, I wouldn't stop until the ride had come to a screeching halt.
Almost as if hearing that thought, William's tongue slipped along my lips, slowly, seductively asking for permission to enter.
Goddess, the tingles suddenly transformed into aches. Now it was more than mere wanting. I needed more.
Permission granted.
Within seconds, the kiss intensified and the pressure from his mouth deepened. His tongue slipped into my mouth and was now dueling with mine, as if we faced each other on a field of battle. Against my will, a little sigh escaped my lips.
I hadn't had a kiss like this in ages. It was searing, bright and powerful--pure thrill. At once, I trembled with fear and craving. Wanting to pull away and end it while also willing it to never end.
William made the decision for me, and as he slowly pulled away, I felt just as jolted from the severance of our connection as I did when it began. After a long, silent moment, he cleared his throat. "Now that is a goodnight kiss."
I burst out laughing. I couldn't help it. As soon as I did, his grin widened and I felt a pang at how adorable he was while still being incredibly sexy. My throat tightened and my heart rate sped up as a distant fear nibbled at the back of my thoughts.
I couldn't get involved with William for so many reasons, not the least of which was that I was leaving soon. And though I needed that tiara back, I couldn't let feelings get involved. I--I couldn't go there with him. I could never go there with anyone. My heart had been killed and buried long ago.
But it hadn't taken me long to realize that William was different than the others. And if Ann was right and he did have a thing for me, then this couldn't go any further.
I stepped back to move into the doorway, only to bang my head loudly on the closed door. "Ow! Shit." I'd forgotten to open the door, and in my dazzled state had tried to walk through solid matter. It didn't take a physics student to know that you couldn't do that.
William asked if I was okay, and I barely muttered enough to alleviate his concern before telling him goodbye as quickly as possible. Then I unlocked the door and moved inside before he could say another word.
No, I couldn't open this drawbridge and let him in. I had to keep everything shut up tight inside--man my watchtowers, bar the city gates. He could assemble his siege, lay in wait outside the moat, but I wouldn't be around long enough for him to wait it out. Unlike a medieval fortress, Jenna Kovac was a movable, transient being.
And I always would be.
I didn't fall asleep until the sun was almost up because I may have spent a few hours reliving that kiss. I tossed and turned and told myself I was being an idiot. It wasn't the first time a handsome guy had kissed me, after all.
When I woke up on Saturday morning, it was almost noon. No thanks to my roommate. There should be a law against running a vacuum before nine o'clock on weekends. And if there were such a law, I'd have been the first one calling the cops on Alex.
Fortunately for her, she was gone by the time I got up, having left me a note on the fridge to explain that she was spending the day helping her mom with a garage sale. I was slurping up a bowl of cereal when my phone rang.
I checked the ID and answered immediately. There was no way I was missing this call--bleary-eyed or not.
"Cao, Helena," I said with a smile on my face.
"Janja! How are you? Are you free this afternoon? I'm going to be in Orange County this evening to meet some friends. I thought I'd come early and take you out to lunch. Are you busy?"
"I am now. I haven't seen you in forever."
"Yes, it's been over a month and it's all my fault. But we'll catch up over lunch, yes?"
"Of course."
"Okay, I'll pick you up in hour."
After I hung up, I pressed the button on my phone and noted the date. The twenty-eighth of March. It was no accident that Helena wanted to see me today--the anniversary date was less than a week away.
Seven years. I blinked the sting out of my eyes and swallowed, determined to dig out my finest outfit to wear when I saw Helena. She was always so elegant, so put together. For years, I'd wanted to grow up to be just like her.
A flash of a memory invaded my thoughts. The night I'd met her it had been the homecoming dance of my freshman year in high school. My third date with Brock. He'd brought me over to the house to take photos and meet his parents, and they'd been so thrilled that he was dating a girl from "the old country."
I reflected on that night as I spent twice the amount of time that I normally did on my hair and make-up. I pulled my hair back into a French braid and tied it with an embroidered ribbon that Caitlyn had given me at the last regional market. She'd been so happy to hear that I'd agreed to travel with the Ren Faire as their fortune card reader that she'd given me the ribbon to celebrate.
Helena arrived on time, and I was waiting at the curb for her...in the exact same spot where William had picked me up the night before. He'd probably be both shocked and thrilled at my punctuality. I smiled at the thought.
Helena, as always, looked perfect. A forty-nine-year-old woman who looked at least a decade--possibly two--younger than her actual age, she had dark hair and olive skin, and she always reminded me of a sophisticated movie actress from the eighties.
She had high cheekbones and an elegantly constructed face, with a neck like a swan and a beautiful figure. The clothes she wore were expensive but understated, and she attracted admiring looks wherever she went.
There was no doubt she'd passed her beauty on to her son. With his dark curly hair and deep blue eyes, he'd been the most handsome boy at our high school. And he'd picked me. Or rather, he'd listened when the Fates had picked us out for each other.
"Janja!" As always, Helena greeted me by kissing me on both cheeks, keeping alive old country traditions. Like me, Helena had been born in the former Yugoslavia. Unlike me, Helena was ethnically a Serb, while I was Bosnian-Croatian. But we'd met here, in California, and now she and her husband were like family.
Neither of us had found a Balkan-style restaurant in the area that satisfied our cravings for our native homeland, so this afternoon she took me to one of the trendy bistros in downtown Fullerton.
"How is Vuk?" I asked as we were handed our menus and served ice water. "Is he feeling better?"
"This last scare has really changed him," she said, speaking of her husband's recent diabetes diagnosis. "We exercise together every day, and he's finally watching what he eats. Did I tell you we are going to Belgrade in June to see his mom? He wants to lose weight before she sees him."
"Oh, I'm so happy for you. I just found out that Maja is getting married in June."
Her fork paused on the way to her mouth and she looked up, brows raised. "Where? In Sarajevo?"
I nodded.
"When? Maybe we can fly out together. Vuk and I don't have our plane tickets yet."
I poked around my salad for a while and cleared my throat as I tried to figure out how to change the subject. I had no desire to go there with her, yet it was my fault for bringing it up in the first place.
"Early June, I think."
"Are you going out early?"
More silence and salad picking from me.
"Janja..."
I sighed and looked away. "I don't really have the money to buy a ticket right now. I'm trying to figure out how I'm going to do it."
"It's simple. Yo
u come with Vuk and me to Belgrade, and then take the bus to Sarajevo to be with your family."
I suppressed a smile. "Thanks. I'll see what I can do."
"No, there is no seeing. Vuk has loads of air miles from all the business traveling he does. It will cost us nothing to get another ticket."
I was almost speechless with gratitude. This was so generous of her to offer, but it was in no way out of character. I only ached at the thought of sitting next to her on that plane with no tiara on my lap.
I had to get it back. There was no way I could show up to the wedding empty-handed. Disappointing Maja would be just like the time I'd disappointed Mama all those years ago.
We finished our meal, and I was using a piece of my roll to sop up the gravy from the plate. Helena teased me about my old world manners and I laughed, blaming her son for the habit.
Our smiles faded just a little bit at the mention of the ghost between us. Without looking at her, I reached for my goblet of ice water. "I can't believe that next week it'll be seven years..."
Helena's elegant dark brows were untroubled, but I could read the pain in the back of her blue eyes. That unique, sharp pain that, I imagined, could only be truly understood by other parents cursed with the most horrible of fates--to have outlived their child. But Helena was no mythical Queen Niobe, who wept unceasingly for her lost children. Helena, in fact, was the picture of dignified strength. I admired her greatly for that--among other things.
She rolled her lips into her mouth and then smoothed her napkin across her lap. "I'm going to the cemetery tomorrow. I'll be out of town next week," she declared in a flat voice.
I straightened in my chair. "I'll be there next week. I'll make sure there are fresh flowers on his grave."
"You go often," she said. It wasn't a question.
I nodded. "His birthday. The holidays. The anniversary of our first date. And..." I left the last one unspoken. The anniversary of his death. Next week. Seven years. Seven years since my heart had followed him into that grave.
Her dark brows twitched together. "What does that work out to be? Every month? More?"
I shrugged. "Something like that."
She frowned, studying the uneaten food on her plate, picking at it with a fork. "Jenna, we've had this talk before," she said, switching to English.
"I know what you're going to say."
"Do you? But you're still going to ignore it? You're twenty-five years old. You have your whole life ahead of you. I know he wouldn't want you living like this."
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