Resistance (12 page)

I make myself grin at him. “Good morning. Would you
like some coffee?”

He looks even more confused than before, but nods.
“That sounds nice, thank you.”

I gesture for him to follow me and lead him to the
kitchen where coffee and muffins are waiting at the table. “Have a
seat. I wanted to ask you something,” I tell him; sitting down and
grabbing another cup of coffee for myself.

He looks at me like he’s waiting for me to ask him
for something, but sits down anyway, saying, “Alright.” I watch
while he pours coffee for himself and push the muffins closer to
him.

“So I was thinking, and I realized you probably don’t
have any clothes or anything with you to change into. I thought, if
you were interested, I could take you to where we, I guess you
could say, where we shop,” I tell him; choosing to ignore his
suspicious look.

Judging from the expression on his face this is the
last thing he expected me to say, but he recovers quickly and nods.
“Uh…..sure.”

"If you like, we can go when you're done with your
coffee. I have nothing else on my schedule for today." I take a
drink of my coffee and ignore his surprise at my consideration. "I
could use a few things myself, so it worked out nicely."

"I tend to have perfect timing." He smirks a little
at me and I bite my tongue to keep myself from scoffing at him.

I half-roll my eyes but try to hide my irritation,
not wanting to be rude. "Right. Well, it will take us about an hour
to walk there, so you might want to have a muffin or something to
eat before we leave."

"You say that like I don't have any stamina." He
smirks again but picks up one of the muffins anyway, tearing the
top off and eating that first.

I drag my bottom lip between my teeth, not really
sure how to take him or his sense of humor. "I'm sure I don't know
anything about your stamina. I'm going to grab the tote bags — you
finish your muffin. I'll be right back." I flee the kitchen before
I can become more unsettled from his snarky comments. I take my
time in my room; grabbing the tote bags off their hooks in my
closet and then making my bed before deciding that I can’t stall
any longer. I sigh and head back to the kitchen and the irritating
man polishing off his breakfast. He is dusting crumbs off his
fingers when I enter the room and I make myself smile at him.
"Okay, ready to go?"

He stands and makes an overly exuberant gesture at
the door. "Ladies first."

I nod at him and lead the way out, saying, “Well, uh,
thank you. Follow me.”

Luckily the rain has finally stopped and the air
smells clean. I breathe deeply to try and alleviate the tension
settling in my shoulders. There is something about Flint that gets
under my skin like nothing else ever has.

"Gladly." He pauses as he shuts the back door behind
him. "For the record, I will be highly annoyed if we end up
lost."

I narrow my eyes in irritation and glare up at him.
"Just keep up and we'll be fine. I have lived here all my life, you
know."

"Should that tell me something about your sense of
direction?" he asks; raising both eyebrows at me and sticking his
hands in his pockets. "I lived in Scotland for years, but that
doesn't mean I know how to get to Dundee from Edinburgh."

I clench my jaw and bite my tongue so I don’t tell
him to go to hell, although I’m sure he could find his way there
without any trouble. "Well I’ve never been to Scotland, but I know
you'd have to travel north to reach Dundee from Edinburgh. I do
know how to get around my city without issue, though, thank you
very much."

His eyes seem to light up and he claps his hands with
exaggerated happiness. "Oh, A+ for the know-it-all." He lifts his
hands and shakes his head, collecting himself. "Alright, I'll trust
you. Just don't make me regret it."

I stop walking for a moment; exasperation flooding in
and making me see red. I feel heat fill my face, my hands fist at
my sides and I snap, "So happy you're on board.” I scowl at him and
then start walking faster, wanting to put distance between the two
of us so I don’t punch the damn smirk off his face. I pick my way
around puddles on the sidewalk and concentrate on where I’m going
so I don’t have to look at him.

He's silent for a moment and then bursts out
laughing, easily keeping pace with me. "My God, Fianna, don't take
it so personal." I really wish he would trip and fall flat on his
too-handsome, constantly mocking face.

I scowl at him for a moment; wanting very badly to
just run ahead so I won’t be able to hit him. "Of course I'm not."
I make myself breathe for a minute and decide it would be best to
change the subject so I don’t throw one of my daggers at his head.
"Do you miss Scotland?"

He chuckles. "The country, yes. It's beautiful —
freezing, but beautiful." He pauses and seems a bit unsure of his
next words. "But it's plagued by some cretins called my blood
relatives, so I am enjoying New York very much."

I feel jealousy spurt; I’ve always wanted to travel
abroad. “You’re so lucky,” I say, sighing. “I’m determined to get
to Europe before I die…I want to see Ireland, at least.”

He looks at me like I’ve grown another head, though I
can’t imagine why. "Perhaps you'll let me take you there sometime."
He smirks and I have the feeling he’s trying to flirt with me,
which is just ridiculous. "You strike me as someone who would visit
Ireland and never leave."

I decide to ignore the possible flirting and his
assumptions about me. “It’s my hope that someday international
travel won’t be quite the hardship it is today. I’ve always dreamed
of going to Ireland — my Gran used to tell me stories about it,” I
say, trailing off; embarrassed I’ve revealed such personal
information.

"There are ways of doing it without being, ah, shall
we say, disturbed by the powers that be." We walk in silence for a
few minutes before he shrugs and says, "Well isn't this nice? We're
talking and no one has been fatally wounded yet. I consider this
progress."

I can’t help but laugh at him. "Progress, yes...does
that happen with you a lot? That you can't have a conversation
without driving someone to violence?"

He considers this for a moment. "Yes actually, about
ninety percent of my conversations end in violence." He looks at me
and smirks. "Some people just don't like the truth."

I find myself grinning back at him. “Something tells
me how you deliver the truth probably has something to do with the
way your conversations end.”

"It's like you've known me my whole life." He winks
at me and I feel a blush cover my face. I shake my head at him,
exasperated with myself for being affected by his antics. I know
better than to let myself be taken in by a handsome faery with a
barbed tongue. He smirks at me like he knows every thought passing
through my mind and I look away, spotting the store just ahead of
us.

“Ah, here we are,” I say, unable to keep the relief
from my voice.

He laughs. "So we are." I plow forward, eager to be
done and get home where I can avoid Flint if I’d like to. I hear
him chuckling as he follows me and bite my tongue to keep from
snapping at him to shut up.

Once we get inside, I lead the way to what was the
petites department back when the store was still doing business. I
plan on grabbing what I need first and then heading to the men’s
area so Flint can look around and I can pick up Eir’s things. Quick
and efficient; I’ve done this many times in my life. Eir and I have
been coming on these excursions for years and we are a well-oiled
machine. What I didn’t count on was Flint.

When we were outdoors he was always well outside of
my personal space, which is how I like things. For some reason the
moment we step inside the store, I can feel him standing just
slightly too close for my comfort. Every time I turn or stop, he’s
right there; much too close and smirking at me when we almost brush
into each other. By the time we get to the department I need, I’m
flustered and blushing and can’t quite put my finger on the exact
reason why. I only know he needs to take three giant steps back
from me so I can breathe again. I practically jog in my effort to
keep space between us as I head to the display table of jeans and
grab up three pairs in my size. They’ll all be too long, but I
learned to hem things a long time ago and at least one pair will be
made into shorts. I hear Flint chuckling softly to himself and bite
my tongue to keep from asking him what the hell is so damned
funny.

Stretched far beyond the normal parameters of my
tolerance, I grab up an assortment of tank tops and tee shirts and
fold them into one of the tote bags without noting anything but
their size. I’m about to head to the intimates department when I
remember the irksome faery dogging my every step and stop abruptly.
Said faery comes to a stop so close behind me that I can feel his
breath on the back of my head, and I feel goosebumps break out over
my skin. His chuckling has gained volume now, and I whirl around
and spit out, “What in the world is so funny?” before I can stop
myself.

He staggers back a couple steps. "I'm sorry, but..."
He’s doubled over laughing now as he chokes out, "Considering
you're someone who always has her panties in a bunch, I never would
have guessed you went commando.
That's
what's so funny."

I feel all the blood rush to my face, and for a
moment all I can do is sputter incoherently. Then I manage, “My
panties are
none
of
your
concern!” and think for a
brief second about whacking him with the full tote bag I am
clutching in my hand. I would really like to push him down the
defunct escalator and watch as he breaks his neck, but instead I
stomp to the intimates department, grab a few pairs of the boy
shorts I wear and stuff them in my bag. Flint is still doubled over
where I left him, chortling at his little joke. My hands are
shaking but I breathe deeply and return to him; throwing an empty
bag at his arrogant face before saying, “The men’s department is
upstairs,” and walking away from him before I give in to my inner
urge to kick him in the shin.

The rest of our outing passes without conversation
and honestly, I am glad for the reprieve. There is a hot rage
boiling over inside me and I have a headache pounding away, thanks
to keeping my jaw clenched firmly shut. I have four bags full of
items and Flint has one bag swinging from his hand; all in all a
very successful trip. I set a brisk pace on the way back home. The
sky is darkening more by the second and I can smell the rain
gathering in the sky. I really don’t want to get caught in the
oncoming deluge. Thankfully the first drops are just falling when I
jog up the back steps to my house and dash inside gratefully. I
consider letting the door slam in Flint’s face but hold it open
instead; the manners my Gran instilled in me prohibiting me from
being that rude to him, even if he is a complete ass.

Eir is at the table inhaling coffee and muffins when
I come in, and I’m happy to see him grin at me around a mouthful of
food. I grin back and bring the bags over to him. “I brought Flint
to pick up some things and grabbed some jeans and things for you,
since you’re still growing,” I tell him; sitting down in the chair
next to his and pulling his muffin closer to me to share.

He slaps my hand away, laughing. “Mine! I’m sure you
ate your fill this morning.” He nods at Flint, saying, “Hey man,”
and then looks back to me. “You should have woken me up. I would
have gone with you guys,” but he doesn’t look angry. I steal a
piece of his muffin and laugh when he stuffs the rest of the bottom
into his mouth whole to keep me from taking more.

“You’re going to choke one of these days,” I tell
him, and feel some of the tension from dealing with Flint ebb away.
Eir shakes his head, still chewing and I say, “Wait until you
swallow to speak, please.” I smile and get up to get coffee for
myself.

Eir swallows and says, “How many cups does that make
for you today, sister dear?” I grin at him and lean against the
counter.

“I’d rather not say,” I tell him and he laughs.

Eir looks at Flint. “My sister is the only person I
know who can drink her weight in coffee and still come back for
more. She has a serious caffeine addiction.” I laugh despite
myself; ignoring Flint and the smirk I’m certain is on his
face.

Flint chuckles. “I never would have guessed.”

“Okay, demon child — enough about me,” I say;
bringing my coffee back to the table and setting it down. I start
unloading the clothes out of Eir’s bags. “I need you to try these
on please, as soon as you’re finished stuffing your face. If you
get any taller we’re either going to have to sew extensions on to
all your pants, or cut them all and you’ll just have to wear shorts
year round.”

Eir grimaces. “Well I don’t mind shorts in the summer
time. I won’t be wearing them in the spring like you do, though.
I’m pretty sure frostbite isn’t the way to end my never-ending
growth spurt.” He stuffs half a muffin in his mouth, hands me the
other half, gulps down the rest of his coffee and stands; hugging
me quickly before grabbing up the clothes and heading to his room
to try his things on. I nibble on my half of the muffin and smile
happily, feeling the rest of the Flint-related tension leave
me.

Flint surprises me by pouring himself a cup of coffee
and sitting across from me at the kitchen table. “I like that kid,”
he says with a surprisingly non-irritating smile on his face.

I can’t help but smile in return. “It’s very easy to
like him,” I say sincerely.

Eir’s door opens and he sticks one leg out into the
hallway, calling out in his attempt at a falsetto. “Look, look,
look — no more showing off my ankles!” and I giggle at him. He
steps the rest of the way out of the bedroom and sashays into the
kitchen with an exaggerated swing in his hips. He stops by the
table and turns all the way around, looking at Flint and raising
his eyebrows. “Hey there, sailor. Do you come here often?” Flint
chokes on his coffee and then sputters.