by Mary Dublin
"Cliff told me what Leeana did to you," she blurted, breaking eye contact. In looking away, she became hyper-aware of him; the sturdy hands surrounding her, the weight of his gaze. She swallowed. "And I wanted to say… I'm so sorry that happened to you. We haven't known each other for long, I know, but I can tell you don't deserve that." She paused, taking a moment to carefully consider her words. "It's your choice if you want to forgive her, but I just want you to know… it would break my heart if she hurt you again."
Color rushed to her face as she dared to look up tentatively. She held her breath when she saw that Jon's expression had darkened.
Then it softened into a gentle smile that she wasn't sure what to make of. He nudged her cheek, uncurling a finger against her tenderly. She barely flinched.
"I still don't understand what I did to deserve your care." Jon paused, just drinking in at her upturned face for a silent moment. He sighed. "I just don't know what to think anymore."
"Think about what would make you happy," Sylvia urged. She raised her hand and rested it on the finger that touched her face. She offered an understanding smile, content to be held by him. As confusing as her feelings were, her priority at the moment was for him to stop hurting, no matter what it took. "You don't deserve to have someone you care about hurt you. You're good, Jon. I can see that. Just do what makes you happy. What else matters?"
After considering her advice seriously for a time, a thoughtful smile crossed his face and he looked back toward her. He chuckled softly. "You'd make a pretty good shrink." She gave him a confused look that only made him laugh again. But curiosity rose in his eyes shortly after. "Would you ever…" He trailed off as soon as he started and shook his head. "Uh… never mind."
She tilted her head with a frown, wondering what he held back. It was difficult to resist the urge to pry, but she managed. She had told him everything she had needed to, and her dignity was still intact after it. Perhaps it hadn't been so bad to be left alone with him to talk.
She gave him a skeptical look. "Do you really think Cliff is cooking?"
Jon chuckled heartily. "Absolutely not. The guy's allergic to pots and pans, I swear."
It felt good to still see a smile on his face after such heavy conversation. She couldn't imagine a sight that would make her happier. Laughing as well, she moved in his hand, folding her legs underneath her, careful to not let her wings touch anything. Jon sucked in a juddering breath as she did, and she wondered how her brief movement atop his palm could have really affected him that much. He glanced behind him, and propped a couple pillows atop each other so he could relax similarly.
"What about you?" she asked, giving him a pointed raise of her eyebrows. "Do you cook?"
"Nothing fancy." He shrugged, the hand she sat upon rocking with the motion. "I can make pasta. A couple rusty family recipes, I guess. Haven't really had the motivation lately."
Sylvia gave him an interested nod despite the casual way he spoke. She didn't know what pasta was, and her previous experiences with human food made her delightfully curious.
"Would I provide enough motivation?" she asked, perhaps a bit too innocently. She gave a shy glance to the side before putting it plainly, "You should cook for me sometime."
A surprised smile appeared on his face that reached his eyes in the span of a heartbeat. "Yeah!" He laughed lightly, considering the notion. "Guess I could. We could have a regular spaghetti dinner."
"I look forward to it," she replied. She cocked her head curiously. "So, do you and Cliff do anything else besides lay around, hunt killer dogs, and eat?" She couldn't maintain a straight face as she teased. "Is that honestly all I have to look forward to while I'm here?"
"N-no!" Jon was quick to defend his reputation. " 'Course not, we hit the bar up some nights. We… we keep busy."
Clearly he wanted her to be impressed by what he thought was an unimpressive life. She grinned even though she was clueless toward what he was talking about. There was so much to learn about human life, she doubted anything would bore or disinterest her.
"Sounds much more exciting than what I'm used to," she said enviously. "Sneaking out of the village was the only thing I could do for fun. Fly around, occasionally find something interesting to look through. That's it. You've got so much more."
"Guess it's a good thing we ran into each other after all. I mean, minus the bullet and all that." He brought her a little closer, and seemed to go deep into thought. He looked right at her, but his gaze became distant. She tilted her head and opened her mouth to say something, but he beat her to it. "Sorry." He shook his head, freeing the fog from his mind. "Just kinda spaced out for a second. I guess I didn't sleep well last night."
She entwined her fingers tighter when he kept her close. It took an effort to stay composed. She didn't want him to notice how the proximity affected her. A few days ago, her nervousness would have been from fear. Now it was for an entirely different reason, which somehow frightened her even more.
"That's strange, considering you rushed off to bed last night." She frowned, picking at her fingers. "You seemed, I dunno… angry, I guess. This morning too."
“I'm not really a morning person." He forced a casual chuckle—one that was likely swallowed the truth. She gave him a hesitant nod of understanding, which was met with a guilty expression of his own. "I'm not mad, okay? I'm fine."
The last two words left her entirely unconvinced. That was what she always used when she wasn't fine. She suddenly realized how frustrating it was to be on the receiving end of that lie. Leaning forward, she stared at his face searchingly with narrowed eyes. Then she sighed and gingerly laid her hand on his palm, looking at him from under her eyelashes.
"Well, if you're ever not fine… don't think you have to hide it from me, alright?"
Jon's eyes went wide when she leaned close to him. But he didn't shy away, only stared back as she sat down again. She was disappointed when she thought he wouldn't acknowledge her assurance, but his voice finally rose up.
"Alright," he uttered, barely above a whisper. He gave her another long look laced with curiosity. "Doesn't it make you nervous to be so close to me? I mean… I'm just…" It was a pitiful attempt to change the subject, but she obliged him.
"Well, of course I'm nervous," Sylvia admitted. "Every second that I'm here with you and Cliff." She was mildly surprised by her own honesty. Normally she would have denied it, but the urge to be truthful was strong since she wanted the same from him in return. "I don't want to be nervous, so I try not to show it. I've been taught to be terrified of you my entire life. That's not an easy lesson to forget. But you're not going to hurt me. I know that." She shrugged matter-of-factly. "It helps me forget to be nervous."
He nodded, neither surprised nor in disagreement. "Well… if it makes you feel better, you make me nervous, too."
She laughed at first. He had to be teasing her, but he didn't even give a chuckle. "Why would I make you nervous?" she asked, and then her eyes widened. "Oh! Is it because you saw me hit that killer dog with a huge water current back at the cave? Yeah, I actually freaked myself out with that a little. I understand."
He raised his eyebrows and laughed softly, shaking his head.
"No. That was incredible, though." His smile faded—except for his eyes. They retained a special type of warmth. "It's just…" He struggled to word it. "I want to protect you, I guess? But you're so damn small. I'm always nervous that something I do might hurt you by accident, or make you uncomfortable, or… something."
Her heart melted considerably, and she could only stare. Other than her family, she doubted anyone had ever given her a look with such sincere concern. It prompted a strange ache that she was afraid to give a name to; it felt pleasant, yet painful somehow.
"I'm not made of glass," she finally said. "Don't worry. You've never come close to hurting me, Jon, and I don't think you ever will." With a grin to lighten the mood, she leaned forward and half-whispered, "And after kissing me, you made my threshold for
'uncomfortable' heighten."
Jon flushed deeply. "O-oh, that made you uncomfortable?" he sputtered.
The teasing smirk left her face. "No," she said softly, pulling herself away from him and looking down. "Not as much as I think it should have."
Color rushed to her cheeks in turn. Why had she brought it up? Now she couldn't bring herself to look at him. She lost her nerve, unable to say anymore or even play it off nonchalantly. Clasping her hands tightly on her lap, she shrugged lamely.
"Are you sure?" His voice pulled her gaze away from her lap. Sylvia craned her neck back to look beyond his broad chest, his squared chin, up to his lips—now parted in an unspoken realization. The color staining Sylvia's face felt like it was solidifying. Jon raised his hand a little higher, level with his face now. "I mean, I was totally invading your personal space."
Jon's voice became lower as he dared to lean closer. A shiver ran down her spine, but not out of fear or discomfort. She should have been horrified at their sudden closeness, but she was exhilarated instead.
"If it bothered me, would I be here right now?" she replied coolly, shifting so she was leaning forward again. There was a curious sparkle in her eyes as she began to entertain the thought that Cliff might have been right about Jon. Just maybe.
He swallowed, and suddenly he was leaning closer with both of them perfectly aware of what he was doing.
He kissed her, full lips just barely brushing against her lower face. Instead of flinching or drawing back, she froze where she was. Her wide eyes darted over every inch of his face when he pulled away, with bated breath She had noticed he was handsome before, but she was positive she would never find anyone more attractive in her life.
And he has the hots for me.
Easing herself onto her hands and knees, she leaned in and returned the action in a swift motion. Heart fluttering like a caged bird, she kissed his lower lip gingerly and then leaned back.
"Th-that… wow," she sighed.
Jon drew back as well, his eyes drinking her in intently. He smiled dazedly, like he could scarcely believe what had transpired.
"That was weird." He brushed his thumb up against her cheek. "The crazy kind, you know?" He spoke in a low voice, between a whisper and a murmur.
She could only nod in agreement, leaning into his touch with a trance-like grin. Bliss swelled within her. It certainly wasn't the first time she'd had feelings for someone, but it was impossible to remember an instance where she wanted those feelings returned so desperately.
"Crazy kind of weird. But… good, right? I mean—" She trailed off and laughed under her breath, squeezing her eyes shut. "Sorry, I'm dizzy."
"Yeah… Definitely good. Just something that would take getting used to."
Her wing twitched, the injury still sensitive from the healing. She gave him a searching look, pondering his words. "Would you want to get used to it?" she asked softly, voice wavering.
Jon's hesitation was blatant. Was he thinking of Leeana? Of how Sylvia was small enough to fit in the palm of his hand? Maybe he wondered if it was even worth a try. He answered before Sylvia's thoughts could spiral deeper. "I think so." He sounded breathless despite lack of exertion. Then, as if to test his decision, he brought her close and pressed his lips to the side of her face in a lingering, curious kiss.
She shut her eyes, her hand brushing along his chin. "I didn't think you would want…" She hesitated, blinking. Despite absolutely knowing she wanted his affection, troublesome worries surfaced. "This. We're… really different. Doesn't that bother you?" And then she felt like kicking herself for saying that, for daring to plant a seed of doubt.
He sighed, withdrawing a couple inches, scarcely able to look her in the eye. "I don't know… It’s not like we can ignore it, I guess." He adjusted his hands beneath her a little, giving her a careful look up and down. "You—you're beautiful. And this feels… weirdly good. But maybe think about this. Whether there’s any future with something so… er, different.”
A prompt blush rose to her cheeks when he called her beautiful, but her heart sank in the next instant. She knew he was right. That didn't make his statement sting any less. Her thoughts raced to figure out a way to not let her hope die.
"It's not like we need to decide anything right here and now," she offered tentatively, scooting back in his hands. "I'm in no rush to leave, considering I don't have anywhere else to go yet. We can just… take some time to figure out what we want."
Jon exhaled, shoulders slumping. He gathered her to his chest in a makeshift hug of gratitude. "Thanks."
Her breathing hitched at their nearness. She buried the side of her face in his shirt, relishing the embrace as she hid a smile. It provided more comfort than she could have imagined. He was not making it easy to consider to stop fancying him, especially when held her against him longer than necessary. Tenderly. Until two loud knocks sounded on the bedroom door.
"You want some pasta?" Cliff called through.
Jon covered Sylvia to protect her ears when he hollered back that they would be coming out. She flinched nonetheless as his voice shook through her. After he had been speaking to her so gently, she had forgotten how loud his voice really was.
Listening to Cliff's rumbling steps retreat, she rolled her eyes. He had purposefully forced her into being alone with Jon, and now he was the one to cut the moment short.
"I'm guessing that's food, right?" She pushed against Jon's chest with her hands and looked up, grinning. "We underestimated him. He was cooking after all."
"Trust me, you're going to love this stuff."
Thirteen
Jon carried Sylvia into the kitchen, letting her off onto his shoulder so he could serve himself a heaping bowl of cheese-drenched pasta. He downed half a bottled water and used the plastic lid that had capped it as a bowl for Sylvia, mashing a few noodles into it and handing it off to her.
She scrutinized the warm contents of the "bowl" with raised eyebrows. The scent was undeniably tantalizing, even if it was goopy.
"Looks messy," she commented setting it down on her lap and contemplating how to go about eating it. Seeing as it was going to get on her hands one way or another, she reached in and ripped a manageable piece. She wrinkled her nose as the thick yellow substance coated her fingers. Taking the handful in one bite, she froze and made an approving sound. "It's so unfair. How do humans come up with this stuff?"
Jon laughed—a rich, warm sound that resonated through the air as he left the kitchen. "We'll have to spend the next few months getting you caught up on what you've been missing, then, won't we?"
Months. The word echoed in her mind. Her narrowed focus on the present had been so great that she hadn't given much thought to the long-term. Before deciding to go back to the apartment with the humans, she had simply been dead set leaving the village and going wherever she pleased. Nothing permanent. While she was still flightless, however, that wasn't much of an option. Plus, she needed all the help she could get with learning about human things. If the time ever came to leave, it wouldn't hurt to have some knowledge on the unfamiliar outside world, she rationalized.
Jon sat down on the couch next to Cliff. "What are we watching?"
"Missing in Action." Cliff said with a boastful smile.
"Chuck Norris? Come on, at least do something from this decade."
"No way, Chuck Norris is a boss! He beats all those recycled conspiracy movies they've got playing in theatres."
Jon rolled his eyes. "These old movies glorify a guy who basically just waltzed around as himself."
"Oh, you did not just go there!"
Sylvia was left utterly confused, looking back and forth between Jon and Cliff while they argued. It seemed good-natured enough, so she didn't take it seriously. Nonetheless, she rolled her eyes.
"Okay, I really have no idea what you two are talking about, so could you please just pick something before I get bored of listening to you?" She made herself comfortable on Jon's neck.
The boys st
opped for her sake, winding down into petty laughter. Without further argument, they settled on a different movie they both agreed on. They paid with invisible money on a TV channel Jon called "pay-per-view." Sylvia nodded, mouth too full of the delicious pasta to inquire further about the odd concept.
The movie played on, and the sounds of eating and talking were gradually replaced by a contented silence. Cliff was half-asleep, watching the last half of the movie through drooping eyelids.
Jon sat back, relaxed with Sylvia on his shoulder. Occasionally, she would adjust herself more comfortably atop him, crossing or uncrossing her legs. She felt his shoulder shift beneath her every time she moved, and she wondered if she was distracting him. All the same, her eyes stayed glued to the screen, intrigued once she stopped flinching at the sight and sound of gunfire.
He had to explain many concepts in the movie to her, basically walking her through the whole thing. Guns, explosives, and government agencies were all were foreign concepts to her, but he didn't seem to mind, brushing off the apologies that followed her questions. Though, she found herself sometimes asking questions to confirm things she already understood. It was just nice to hear him speak to her, to have his attention on her.
Eventually, she heard a change in his voice, like he was fighting sleep. The downside to being on his shoulder was that she couldn't see his face very well. She was sure he was trying to keep his eyes open, and it was likely for her sake. She laid face-down, propping herself on her elbows.
"Hey," she alerted him. "You said you didn't get much sleep last night. You can take a break from being my guide if you're tired. I got this."
"Nah, I don't mind," Jon mumbled, turning his head to look toward her once she was settled again. He gave her a smile softened by fatigue and returned his gaze to the film after a moment, head held a little higher in a clear attempt at staying awake.
