The Keeper

by Oz Mari G.

  In her head, that last act could be sexy and romantic, just like in the movies.

  Or platonic, like a big brother feeding his kid sister.

  With her luck, it was probably the latter.

  With two steaming cups of takeaway coffee, Veren drew Anza to her feet. The coffee shop would close soon. They would drink their coffee outside where they had lunch earlier. As Veren opened the door, a blast of frigid night air hit him. Behind him, Anza shivered.

  He gave Anza the coffee cups to hold and pulled her into his jacket. Anza sighed, and it made him smile. They made their way back to the patch of grass in front of the lighthouse with a brief stop by their bike. He took the tablecloth from the picnic basket and tucked it under his jacket.

  The downpour left the grounds wet. The tablecloth would not have offered protection. They ended up huddled on a dry patch atop a low boulder, their backs against the stone walls of the caretaker's house. The structure shielded them from the icy wind that swept inland from the sea.

  “What brought you here in Batanes?” Anza asked as she blew on her hot coffee.

  He took a sip before he answered. “Nothing in particular. Part of a bucket list …” He wanted to avoid this topic. He didn’t want to lie to her. It was a good thing she was too inexperienced to know how to probe for information.

  Anza looked up from her cup and stared at him. “Will you tell me about your childhood?” she asked.

  Fuck!

  His heart leaped at the question. No one had asked him that question for years.

  “Not much to tell. I was an orphan,” he said. “My mentor took me under his wing when I was five, sent me to school, then gave me a job. He gave me everything a young person with no parents needs to survive and thrive.” He adopted a relaxed posture to hide the fact that discussing his past was not a pleasant subject for him.

  She didn’t seem convinced by his facade. There was a frown on her face, but her eyes were devoid of her usual emotions. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking. His little one had learned to mask her feelings.

  Not good.

  “It must have been hard,” she said, her eyes never leaving him.

  Darn!

  He took a deep breath before responding. “Yes, I guess it was.” Giving brief replies might discourage her from asking for more.

  “So, what do you do now?” she asked, her head inclined to the side.

  Holy Aquila! She's persistent.

  He took a big gulp of his lukewarm coffee to buy time to plan his response.

  “I'm in between jobs,” he said. That was technically true. “I return to my new one in a month,” he added.

  “A month? Are you staying here for that long?” Anza was looking at her own cooling cup, her voice stilted.

  “Maybe … although it depends,” he replied to the top of her head. He wished he could see her expression.

  “On what? I thought this trip was part of your bucket list.”

  Wish granted—she was looking at him again.

  “Well, the items in my bucket list are not simple, one-layered things to be ticked off,” he replied.

  Anza’s nod was slow, but whether she accepted and understood what he said was unclear. It seemed to be an automatic action she did when she was trying to make sense of the information she received.

  They both turned towards some voices that were coming closer to them. The group of humans at the coffee shop were now going their way. Anza glanced at Veren with a frown. She couldn’t make out what they were saying. Thanks to his superior hearing, the conversation of the incoming party was clear. The three were looking for them. The boys were keen on meeting Anza, and the girl was interested in him.

  He sighed. They would have to deal with these juveniles unless they left the lighthouse. But he promised Anza the sunrise …

  “Oh … do you think they're coming this way?” Anza asked, her nose wrinkled in disapproval.

  “I'm afraid so, little one. You’ll have to put effort into being sociable,” he said.

  She shook her head. He pulled her closer in a mock headlock.

  “I don't know how to be sociable,” she replied from beneath his arm, then untangled herself from his hold. He could almost imagine her pouting, except she wasn’t the pouting kind.

  “Then this is a good time to learn,” he said, and released her.

  Anza combed her hair back and twisted to face him. There was a worried crease on her brow and fear in her eyes.

  “You did well with me. You weren’t shy,” he reminded her.

  Her frown deepened. “You’re different. You didn’t give me time to think, and I forgot I didn’t know how to be sociable,” she said.

  “Well, do what you did with me. Just answer their questions … and don't frown.” He touched her forehead to ease the creases. “And I’m here. I’ll help you.”

  Three minutes later, the group caught up to them.

  “Hi, guys! Are you waiting for the sunrise, too?” The only girl in the group was leading the pack. She wore a wide, friendly smile.

  “Yes,” he answered casually.

  He surveyed the group standing ten feet away. She was carrying two bottled waters, one in each hand. The guy behind her was carrying an extra bottle. A quick look at the bottle caps told him that both were unopened.

  “Can we join you?” she asked, then paused right in front of him. Her question was just for him, despite the word ‘we’. She stood with a stance seemingly meant to emphasise her curvaceous hips. The girl apparently knew she possessed a splendid figure and was using it to her advantage.

  Veren glanced at Anza to make sure she was okay. Her face showed no emotion, but he could feel the slight tension emanating from her. He almost said no.

  “Sure, join us.” He gestured toward the space in front of them. The soldier in him wanted them where he could see them.

  “I'm Charisse,” the girl said, waving with the bottle in her hand.

  “I'm Veren.”

  “Hi—I'm Anza,” Anza said. The tension in her shoulders increased, but her voice was calm.

  “I'm Diego,” the taller of the two boys said. He had short shorn hair at the back and the sides, but the front was longer and styled up. His smile revealed a pair of dimples and nice teeth.

  “Hey—I'm Charlie,” the other boy said. This one had longer, slicked-back hair. “Would you like some water?” Charlie asked, offering the bottle in his hand to Anza.

  Veren intercepted it. He wanted to make sure it was safe. The bottle was chilled. He unscrewed the cap and handed it to Anza.

  The boy's expression was telling. Charlie was unsure of how to react to Veren’s protective gesture. Veren didn’t care—he wanted this boy pre-warned that he was here to protect Anza.

  “Thank you,” Anza said, directing her remark to Charlie.

  “Can we sit with you?” Charisse asked. She eyed the space in between Anza and him. She seemed to want him to scoot a little, to make room for her.

  He nodded, but before Charisse could act on it, Anza moved nearer and covered that coveted gap. She took the option away and made her opinion about the situation clear.

  Charisse, to her credit, was unfazed. She sat in front of him, cross-legged, her back to the view. The two boys copied her. The rock could only accommodate two-and-a-half people. Both Diego and Charlie positioned themselves right in front of Anza.

  Time to do due diligence on the three. “So, where are you guys from?”

  “We’re from Baguio,” Charisse replied with a disarming full smile. “Diego and I are cousins. Charlie here is Diego's friend, frat brother, and my classmate.”

  “What brought you here?” Veren asked.

  “We’re on holiday,” Charisse replied. Her free hand now played with her own hair, twirling it like most young women do when trying to be overtly feminine.

  “Which school do you go to?” Anza's question sounded relaxed.

  He glanced at her and noticed that her posture was rigid and almost defens
ive. Anza was asserting herself. His little one was flexing her confidence muscle.

  “Oh, U.P. Baguio,” Charisse said. She looked at Anza for the first time, her smile tight at the corners. The girl clearly saw Anza as competition.

  “How about you, Anza? Which school do you go to?” Diego asked, his tone open and friendly.

  “I don’t know yet. I haven’t decided where to go,” Anza replied.

  His little one was cool under pressure. When it came to hiding her background, Anza’s years of practice as an Erdia showed.

  “So, are you from here, or are you visiting like we are?” Charlie asked, glancing at Diego, a challenge in his gaze.

  Veren could read the competition between the two boys. And he didn’t like it. Their antics to win her regard might prove enough of an inducement for a young girl like Anza to want to stay with the humans longer.

  “We’re visiting.” Anza's curt reply was guarded, not encouraging.

  Veren inwardly smiled. So far, the boys hadn’t enticed her. She was too inexperienced to use their attraction to her to her full advantage.

  “How long are you here for?” Charisse asked. Her gentle touch on his knee ensured that he would look at her.

  He turned to Charisse, who was smiling at him as she waited for his reply. Anza's interest in his reply to Charisse's question gleamed in her gaze, which had turned on him.

  “For however long it takes to accomplish what we want to do here,” he replied, answering for them both.

  “Are you … together?” Charisse's asked, her tone tentative, one eyebrow arched.

  It was clear to him that she wanted to know her chances. The two boys were also keen to find out if Anza was available. He chose to misunderstand the question. He wasn’t about to divulge the nature of their relationship.

  “Yes. We came here together,” he replied, and glanced at Anza.

  Anza gave him a slow blink of annoyance. A quiet huff followed as she turned to Diego. He was unsure what caused her ire—he thought that she wouldn’t want her circumstance known to strangers.

  “So, Anza, are you going to University this coming school year?” Diego asked, outwardly glad to have her looking at him.

  She shook her head. “11th grade.”

  “Oh, you're about … 17?” Diego asked. “I’m 18, turning 19.”

  “I'm sixteen.” Anza’s admission came out reluctantly.

  “Wow, you must have started school early,” Charlie interjected, unwilling to stay in the background.

  “No, I skipped first grade.” Anza’s response was automatic.

  That was news to Veren. Her records didn’t mention it.

  “You must be smart, then.” Charlie's comment had a hint of condescension.

  Veren felt Anza's defensive barriers rise, annoyance in her eyes. His little one had claws and was preparing to use them. Charlie was still smiling at her, unaware of the effects of his words. This would be interesting to watch.

  “There are worse things than being smart,” Anza said, her tone clipped.

  Charlie's face fell as he realised his mistake.

  “I agree with Anza. Being a basketball jock, for one.” Diego wisely picked up the opening that Charlie's gaffe created, and gave Anza a conspiratorial smile.

  Anza smiled back at him. Diego scored a point there. Veren felt a kick of irritation and a stirring of dislike towards Diego.

  A cool breeze swept over them, making Anza shiver. She was the only one among them unprepared for the cold temperature. The thin shirt he loaned her was not enough to keep the chill away.

  “Do you want my jacket, Anza?” Charlie offered, poised to remove his windbreaker, and redeem himself from the earlier mistake.

  “There’s no need,” Veren said, stopping Charlie. He took the picnic cloth tucked inside his jacket, shook it out, and draped it over Anza's shoulder. The cloth retained the heat from his body. He took advantage of the opportunity and placed his arm around her, pulling her closer to him.

  He could better protect her like this.

  6 In Keepership

  If I was a full Vis, a true Aswang with shape-shifting skills, my animal form would be a cat. No doubt about it.

  The cosiness of being cradled by Veren was purr-inducing, and she would have purred if she had been capable of it. His left arm was draped behind her, cushioning her back against the stone wall. She had laid her head on his chest. He smelled of that unidentified yet familiar scent of himself and night air. She closed her eyes to savour and drown her senses with the sensation of being close to him. It was also useful to pretend to doze off to avoid engaging with the three people who invaded their private moment.

  She was comfortable, both inside and out. She could stay like this until morning. No conversations, just being together. The sound of the waves, the cool breeze that wafted from the sea, and the comfortable semi-darkness had a mellowing effect on her. Nothing Charisse or Charlie could say or do tonight could rouse her temper.

  “Aww … she's so sweet. The poor kid fell asleep,” cooed Charisse.

  Except that.

  “Has she?” Veren asked with laughter in his voice.

  She knew Veren was aware that she wasn’t sleeping, that she just didn’t want to socialise and this was her means of escape. The tension in her body would have been impossible for him to ignore.

  A lull in the conversation followed. Her hair tingled at the sensation of eyes resting on her. Perhaps they were making sure she was indeed asleep.

  “What do you do, bro?” Diego asked, breaking the silence.

  Anza thought, That’s a good question. She also wanted to know Veren's answer.

  “I’m into asset recovery,” Veren replied, a hint of mirth in his tone.

  Asset recovery? That made her peek under her lashes.

  “Cool …” Diego clearly didn’t know what Veren meant.

  “You're in finance, then?” Charlie piped in.

  “Not quite.”

  Veren's reply made her want to press him for more explanation herself, but she couldn’t because she was pretending to be asleep.

  “What type of assets do you recover? Properties? Vehicles?” Charlie persisted.

  “Only those of extreme value,” Veren replied. He rearranged the cloth that had slid down her back.

  She wondered what valuables he was referring to. His response to the question didn’t make his position clear.

  “How long have you three been friends?” Veren asked, effectively ending that topic.

  She could almost see his raised eyebrow, a habit of his when asking questions.

  “Years,” Charisse replied. “Diego and I have hung out together since grade school. Charlie and I met two years ago through Diego.” Charisse sounded glad to be directly conversing with Veren.

  She heard Charisse shift in her position, maybe to find a more comfortable one, or to move closer to Veren.

  “Are you and Anza related by blood?” Charisse’s question was bold and direct.

  Veren stiffened. Either it surprised him, or he didn’t like the question.

  “We’re not.” Veren’s response was curt. It discouraged further probing.

  She wondered if Veren's clipped response told Charisse he wasn’t about to divulge any information about them. Hopefully, the woman was smart enough to pick up on the nuance.

  “What is your relationship with her?” Charisse asked.

  Apparently not.

  “At the moment, I'm her keeper,” Veren said. The muscle in his arm flexed. It felt like it tightened around her.

  “Keeper? What is that? Like a babysitter?” There was a slight smirk in her tone.

  “Or a bodyguard?” Diego asked.

  “Anza doesn’t need a sitter, and she can take care of herself,” Veren said.

  There was a tinge of pride in his voice, and a touch of disbelief, like it was a revelation to himself. It warmed her insides.

  “So, what does it mean to be her keeper?” Charisse persisted.
r />   “I’ll let Anza answer that,” Veren replied, evading the question.

  “But she's asleep … Can you just tell us?” Charisse cajoled.

  Under her lashes, she saw Charisse reach out to touch Veren's knee. She wanted to slap it away, and didn’t realise her hand, sandwiched between them, was clenched until Veren chuckled and squeezed her shoulder.

  Veren shook his head. “No, that would betray our keepership,” he replied, chuckling.

  Charisse released a slow breath of frustration. “How old are you, Veren?” she asked.

  “I'm … 23,” he replied, surprised at the turn of Charisse’s question.

  “I’m turning 20,” Charisse said, with a note of glee. “We only have three years’ age difference between us,” she continued. “My cousin and Charlie are closer to Anza’s age,” she added when Veren didn’t respond.

  Anza sensed Veren’s puzzlement. He didn’t seem to understand where Charisse was going with the question and statement. But she did—Charisse was using the age gap between Veren and her as a weapon. It sparked her temper and incinerated her natural inclination to be prudent.

  “Are we comparing manufacturing dates? Measuring shelf life? Or counting down to our best before?” Anza questioned.

  All eyes swivelled in her direction, their expressions of surprise identical.

  Except for Veren—amusement danced in his eyes. A slight warning entered it when she roused herself. With hands linked, she stretched them overhead, pulling on the muscles of her back. The hard rock and the cold air made it sore.

  “We were discussing birth dates …” Charisse’s tone sounded defensive, and a touch antagonistic.

  “Were you?” she asked sarcastically, not caring if she offended the woman.

  “Was that a good cat nap?” Diego asked in a pacifying manner. The smile on his face seemed genuine.

  “Yes, it was … stimulating,” she replied, smiling back. Of the three, Diego was the only one she liked. Marginally.

  “Was there enough time for a dream?” Diego appeared to be bent on easing the tension that had built up between her and Charisse. He was a peacemaker, a true gentleman. Anza appreciated it.