For Your Heart (Hill Dweller Retellings) (24 page)

    
I cock my head, unsure how to take Jeanette's best friend.  “Angle?”

    
She lifts a brow, her expression furtive, as if we’re sharing come kind of secret.  “Don't think for an instant this Timmy look-alike business is pulling the wool over my eyes.”  She points at her glasses.  “I wear these for show.  It’s that whole
meganekko
thing.  I could be in the air force if I wanted to.  I see what’s going on.”

    
Timmy look alike?  Me?
  I scratch my head in thought.  Maybe that's why Jean's so confused.  But why didn't she say something?  Is it possible she hasn't noticed I look like him?  Denial maybe?  It’s clear she doesn’t want to connect anyone as horrible as me with someone as saintly as her precious Timmy.

    
Emily turns from me and stares hard at the field.  “In Netti’s eyes, you’ll never be able to fill Timmy’s shoes so I wouldn’t even bother.”

    
Yeah, I’ve noticed
.  “She loves him,” I say, half question half certainty.

    
She looks down and lets out a breath.  “Yeah.  I don’t think she realizes it, even now.  She’s kind of dense like that, ya know?”

    
I’ve noticed. 

    
“She’d say she loved him like a friend, but she loved him more than that.”  She shrugs.  “They may have only been kids but they had something special, everyone could see that.  I knew it.  Even though I was her other bestie, I saw something was different with those two – their relationship wasn’t like hers and mine.  They were…” she struggles looking for the right word, “like soul mates, I guess.”

    
I stare down at my hands.  “How can I compete with that?”

    
I don’t realize I said that out loud until she says, “I’m not sure you can.”  Emily lifts her hands to pick at the skin around her nails.  “She hasn’t dated anyone – hasn’t even looked at anyone.  And she denies that anyone might be interested in her.  I’m not sure she realizes she’s doing it, but I can tell she compares every other guy in the world to Timmy.  And they all come up short.  She’s in love with a ghost.”

    
With a wince, I close my eyes, hating the truth of it.

    
“I dunno.  Maybe she feels like she owes it to him or something.  I think she blames herself for his disappearance.”

    
I open my eyes and clasp my hands together.  “I don’t understand.  What happened exactly?”

    
She shrugs.  “I don’t know.  No one does.  They went trick or treating together – it was Halloween.  And then their parents brought them home and sent them to go get ready for bed.  Next thing everybody knows is Jeanette’s pounding on her back door screaming for help.”

    
I swallow, the idea of Jean that terrified makes my heart race.

    
“She told me later that she’d snuck out to meet up with Timmy.  They used to be neighbors ‘cause his dad was the groundskeeper for the park.  He wanted to go into the park at night, I guess to have a good scare or whatever.  She told me they’d gone in and something chased them, but she fell and hit her head.  When she woke whoever had been chasing them was gone and so was Timmy.  His mom blamed her, too.  I don’t really understand why, it wasn’t Nett’s fault.  After six months and nothing about him turned up, his parents moved away – said it was too painful to stay near the park anymore.”

    
I bite my lip.  What a strange, weird story.  Was I there that night?  Did I see it happen?  I press my palms against my eyes, willing myself to find a memory within.  All I see is a hobby horse lying in the dirt.  “It was Halloween?”

    
She nods.  “Yeah.  She was dressed like a princess.  I remember being jealous because she looked so pretty.  I think Timmy was a cowboy or something like that.”

    
I nod.  Hobby horse.  So, does that mean I was there?  Did I see what happened to Timmy?  Could I maybe help find him?  My hand wanders down to touch my bag and the rose inside.  Could I restore him to human form?  I wrinkle my nose at the thought.  Why would I want to restore someone who’s a rival in Jean’s affection? 

    
Still, if it made her happy…That would make me happy.  She’ll need him back anyway because I can’t stay with her.  Roxel wouldn’t allow it.  Besides, when Roxel does find out about the rose, I’m going to have to throw myself under the bus to save Jean.

    
“So,” Emily says, sounding like she’s trying to be a little more lighthearted.  “I’d love to say I’ll help you and give you all the secrets to winning my best friend over but, unless you can magically
become
Timmy, I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

    
Half of me wants to laugh while the other half wants to scream.  Isn’t that what Jean’s accusing me of lately?  Becoming Timmy?  I pull my hand away from the bag.  Does that mean I have a chance or not?

Twyla

     I draw back from the puddle under the bleachers and let the nausea of being one with water settle before pulling my face up from the bottom of my pounded copper scrying bowl and taking a breath of air.  As rivulets of water trickle from my face, I open my eyes and blink.  My chamber is dark and humid – exactly how I like it.  As droplets dribble from my nose and chin I frown into the water reflecting my image.

    
It is as I feared.  Tamrin is in love with a human girl…And not any human girl, but
her
.  I thought we were done dealing with this human girl’s interference.  Apparently not.  And to have her in possession of the rose?  This could be bad.  Pushing my hair away from my face with unsteady hands I sit up and grab a drying cloth.  As I puzzle through what I’m going to do, I pat my face dry.

    
No.  No, I can’t do anything…Not yet.  I don’t know
what
to do.

Jeanette

     “Jean, can we talk?”

    
I look up from stitching my costume and meet Tamrin’s serious expression.  I put the fabric down.  He’s been quiet for the last few days.  Since the morning I demanded he annul the one year agreement, more so since our conversation on the bleachers and I’m not sure how I feel about his silent treatment.  It’s obvious that something is weighing on him and I don’t like to see him like this.  “What?”

    
He looks away and rubs at his brow.  “I don’t know.”

    
I sigh.  “So, you just wanna talk?  Like bonding talk or it’s too quiet in here talk or there’s an issue that needs resolving talk?”

    
As he stares at the glass of water sitting next to him, his brows knit.  “Everything?”

    
I smile.  I like him when he’s confused like this; it makes him seem more human.  “What do you want to talk about?”

    
He tenses, his broad shoulders lifting.  “You…and me.”

    
My stomach suddenly feels all antsy at his words, at his gruff, husky voice.  “What about us?”

    
His fingers come up and he presses them again his lips.  He speaks against them.  “I don’t know how to put it into words.”

    
“Okay…”  I draw the word out, uncertain.  The only time I’ve seen him so solemn and focused was when he was trying to take my heart.  That feels like forever ago now, like a dream that’s laughable because it could never happen.  Could it?  I pick up my sewing and stare at the tiny stitches – stitches my mom taught me how to make.  I glance back at Tamrin.  He’s watching me – so intent – but not in a bad way.  He looks like he’s trying to communicate telepathically with me. 

    
Maybe he is?  Do
Aos Si
use telepathy?  I never asked.  There’s much I don’t know.  Even so, I feel like I know him so well – on a level beyond trivial things like knowing whether or not someone can use telepathy.  I know him on the heart level.  And I know he’d never kill me.  He couldn’t do it.  Not now.  Not with the way he looks at me.  He looks at me like Timmy looked at me, a look that made me happy and safe.  I don’t know if it’s the spell or for real.  I’m not sure if I care.  Sometimes, if I don’t think hard about it, having Tamrin feels like having Timmy back, and that’s a powerfully seductive illusion.

    
Sliding closer to Tamrin, I put my hand on his shoulder.  “It’s okay if you don’t know the words.  Sometimes it takes a while to figure out what’s going on.”  My words are for the both of us.  Because even though he’s not Timmy, he’s probably the closest I’ll ever get to feeling like I felt with Timmy and I shouldn’t discredit that.

    
Tamrin reaches up and puts a hand over mine.  “I know.  I just can’t say.”

    
I breathe a laugh and sit beside him.  “Is it too terrible to say?” I jest, nudging him with my shoulder.

    
He turns to me, his shoulder disappearing from beside mine so that I collapse into him.  His face is close now, his eyes intense.  He reaches up with his free hand and traces the back of his finger down my cheek.  His eyes, his touch, his whole body – they tell me something that makes my heart flutter.  Swallowing, I try to remind myself that Tamrin is all sorts of bad things.  He’s a killer and a whore and he terrifies me.  But right now, none of that seems to matter.  Right now, I want to kiss him.

    
So I do.

    
I lean into him and plant one, hard and fast….Before I can change my mind.

    
Tamrin’s breath escapes into my mouth, a gasp of surprise that turns into a groan of pleasure.  His hands come up and frame my face.  I think he’s going to pull me away, but then he’s kissing me back.  Sweet, desperate, firm and familiar.  Like the kisses on TV after the hero and heroine have been separated for forever, only better because it’s me and Tamrin, and once it starts, it doesn’t stop.

    
I had built a wall, a massive fortress to hold back the lust and desire that Tamrin has been slowly raising within me.  And this kiss, this sign of weakness is the crack that’s allowing more and more through, flooding me.  But I can’t stop, I keep kissing Tamrin, bending to his mouth and tongue and hands and body.

    
For the briefest instant, he pulls away, breathing heavy, and stares at me.  I meet the expression in his eyes with my own.  Want, need, acceptance…love.  His reverent fingers slide across my cheek bones, through my hair, down my neck; his eyes follow, filled with wonder and hunger.  Closing my eyes at the pleasure of it, I lean into him.  His lips meet mine again, this time more restrained and delicate – memorizing every curve of my mouth – And when he’s done, he trails those expert lips along my cheek, my jaw, my throat…An exploration done in tandem with hands that want to know my body as much as I want to know his.

    
It’s an unthinking, all feeling time: lost in vast spaces of restrained pleasure, overwhelming desire and desperate release.  When clothes start coming off, I don’t think about what could be.  I only know that they’re in the way of something I want to continue.  I want Tam’s mouth and breath on my skin, I want his gentle fingered hot touch.  And I want to give him everything that he gives me and more.  I return kiss for kiss and touch for touch, making a memory of his body, letting him teach me what I like and what he likes.

    
We go too far.

    
I know as it’s happening, but I don’t stop.  I’m uncertain how to stop.  I’ve never been up against this level of temptation.  I’ve never even kissed a guy.  Timmy and I used to share little pecks and touches, but the kisses and touches of children are nothing like the kisses and touches of adults.  The need is almost painful.  The silk of skin too promising. The lure of breath and groan too teasing.  The exotic taste too intoxicating.  The movement of god-like body too erotic. 

    
This is beyond anything I’ve done or had done to me.  Everything inside screams to let me have this one thing, that something so good couldn’t be bad.  A part of me knows it’s too early, not right, sinful; the other doesn’t care when Tamrin eases me back against my bed.  The other initiates the baring of flesh and the guiding of hands as permission to continue …And that other part revels and screams at what Tamrin can do.

Tamrin

     I’m lost.  In all ways lost.  Mind, body, soul; buried deep in everything that is Jean.  One hand fisted in her hair, the other focused on her body, my tongue in her mouth, my skin bare against hers, my focus entirely on every moan and subtle movement of pleasure she gives me.  And I want so much more.  I’m going to give her so much more.

    
Stop.

    
I adjust my fingers and she bucks against me, whining and pushing her chest against mine so that I growl into her mouth.

    
Stop.  Enough.  It’s too much. Too soon.

    
Too much?  It’s not enough.  I can never have enough.