The Guardian (14 page)

“She’s learning Chinese.” I can’t help but feel proud and a little awed at her ability. “She listens to it in her car and her pronunciation sounds just like the instructor. She’s amazing.”

“I don’t know about that.” Conscious of all of us beaming at her, she begins gathering plates. “Is everyone ready for dessert?”

Over chocolate cheesecake and fresh strawberries, Kate regains her composure. Clearing her throat—a tell-tale sign she’s heading into uncomfortable territory—she asks, “So, uh, how did you two meet?”

Choking with surprise, I stare helplessly at Gabriel. Without hesitation, he answers, “My locker is above hers.”

Gabriel’s answer is smooth and I think we’re in the clear, until Steven freezes mid-bite. His quick mind recalls something that causes his eyes to bug out slightly from his head and he makes a small, strangled sound. “You—you were responsible for her
neck
?”

I’ve forgotten all about my first day of school and the lies I told to them about the bruising on my throat. Blaming it on a locker incident rather than an attack, it now looks like Gabriel was the perpetrator rather than my rescuer. My heart starts to hammer. My mouth goes dry. All I can do is stare down at the table and wait.

“It was entirely my fault, Sir.” Gabriel’s sincerity has me jerking up to gape open-mouthed at him as he continues. He’s answering Steven, but focusing on me, his luminous eyes shimmering with remorse. “I didn’t move fast enough and I’m so sorry. I will never let it happen again. I swear.”

I believe him, because he’s my guardian. And because he means what he promises. And mostly, because I trust him with my life.

Once Steven has calmed down and we finish Kate’s gourmet meal, it’s time for Gabriel to go. After the appropriate thanks, I walk Gabriel to the door, trying to ignore my cramping stomach as the food I’ve just eaten congeals into knots.  From behind me I hear Kate whisper in a voice meant for us to overhear, “Alex’s boyfriend is very nice.”

Flinching, I follow him out onto the porch. My cheeks burn as I stammer, “I’m sorry about that. We’re just friends, and I’ll make sure they understand that.”

Looking out into the night Gabriel gives no acknowledgement he has heard this, so I wait in awkward silence for him to speak. I’m afraid he won’t pick up where he left off in the living room—and afraid he will. Suddenly he turns to face me, a storm raging in his eyes.

But all he says is “The Fosters are nice.”

“Yes.”

He makes no move to leave, his eyes continuing to flicker with some internal struggle. He looks younger in that moment, more vulnerable, somehow. Reaching for my hand, he takes my fingers in his. Lifting my hand to his mouth, he brushes his satiny lips against my fingertips, a butterfly kiss, and then presses my fingers to my blushing cheek.

Quietly, he muses, “I think you’ve got things backwards.”

Completely confused, I stare until he elaborates in a strained voice, “The second day I walked you home, you asked how I knew you needed a friend. Maybe I’m the one who needs you.”

There’s so much to ask, but without warning he turns away, hurrying down the path to the street. When he gets to the end, he falters and then stops. Turning around, he comes back up the walk in long purposeful strides, his face tucked toward his chest so I can’t read his expression.

Afraid of interrupting, I wait in agonized silence as Gabriel stops just short of the porch. Kicking absently at the lowest step with his foot, he watches his shoe as he speaks. “I think I could protect you better if I was your boyfriend.” When his eyes flash up to my face they’re veiled. “Think about it and let me know in the morning.” Pivoting like a soldier, he walks away, leaving me to stare at his retreating form, my mouth open, catching flies.

What the hell am I supposed to say to that? Knock yourself out?
I mean it’s not exactly what girls dream about when they imagine getting their first boyfriend.
But I don’t want a boyfriend
, I remind myself.
I want—need—answers!

Find Derry.
Avoid the darkness until I’m no longer a minor. Keep control of my life.
Do
not fall in love!

Shaking my head vigorously, I try to wipe the bitter thoughts from my mind. Alex doesn’t dream about boyfriends and romantic gestures flowing with romantic words. It shouldn’t make any difference to me. But I’m not really Alex, not anymore—but I’m not Alexia either. At this point, I’m no longer sure who I am.

*

The next morning, I practically shove my backpack at Gabriel. My assent comes out unintentionally sharp. “Fine.”

Gabriel flinches as if stung. “Are you mad at me?”

“No.” With a shrug I brush past him, stomping down the walkway at a determined pace.

“Yes, you are—you’re mad.” He catches up with me easily, reaching out and gently pulling at my arm until I’ve got no choice but to stop and let him read my face. Gravely he studies my eyes, trying to mask the hurt I’m causing him—but I notice it anyway. “Don’t you want me to be your boyfriend?” he asks.

With a small huff, I roll my eyes in exasperation. “I said it was fine, didn’t I?” Needing to move, I turn back to the sidewalk in front of me. “It’s just pretense anyway, right?”

He doesn’t answer this, but instead threads his fingers through mine. His hand feels warm and real, and I have the inexplicable urge to cry about it. Instead, I pick up my pace until I’m almost pulling him along, muttering, “Now we’re going to be late.”

We arrive in plenty of time, but I go straight to class anyway. The first part of the morning passes in a blur. Gabriel keeps trying to hold my hand in the halls, but it feels too real, which in turn triggers a hollowness in my chest because it’s only for show. He said himself—by posing as my boyfriend he can protect me better. Since that’s his purpose—his entire reason for being on earth—I can’t say no. And I don’t really want to deny him, even if it’s just for pretend. Because, maybe I want to pretend, too—make believe our interlaced fingers are real and he truly does want to be with me in that way.

After Biology, Naomi ducks her head into the classroom, presumably to corner Gabriel. She’s made a big deal of the fact they share the same fourth period history class and I don’t. The class empties quickly, until just the three of us are left.

“Gabriel.” Naomi always utters his name with a certain breathiness behind it. I think she means it to be sexy, but to me it just sounds ridiculous. I busy myself by searching around in my backpack, resenting her stupid intrusion. Usually I find her laughable, but today I want to scratch her eyes out.

“I was hoping we could walk to History together,” she coos, while I bite my lower lip against my violent impulses until the sting of pain placates me.

“Sorry.” His eyes meet mine apologetically as he reaches to shoulder my bag and I can’t help notice how Naomi skitters back a few steps in reaction. “I’ve got to walk my girlfriend to Government.”

Her perfectly shaped brows shoot up in disbelief. She looks from Gabriel to me and back again before fixing her hands to her hips. “Your girlfriend? You’re going out with
her
?”

“Yep.” As if to emphasize his reply, he lets both our bags drop to the floor. The resulting thud reverberates throughout the empty space. He is fearsome, his face severe and determined as he reaches for my hand.

Before I can process his actions, he pulls me toward him and I feel his perfect lips press abruptly against mine. Although I know it’s merely a show for Naomi’s benefit, he feels warm—supple and electric against my mouth. Unable to stifle my surprise, my lips part in a small gasp.

In response to my movement, his restraint vanishes with a soft groan. His mouth opens to me and I feel the tiniest flicker of his tongue against my teeth. My eyes close of their own volition as Gabriel’s hands twine behind my back, fisting with lightly exquisite pain into my hair. My heart races in my chest in anticipation of what’s ahead and in reaction to the exploration already begun.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I register Naomi’s clompy retreat. As if from far away, I hear the click of the door as it shuts behind her, cutting Gabriel and me off from the rest of school. Alone, the deserted classroom becomes our oasis as we cling to one another.

Tasting faintly of mint he deepens the kiss, turning my knees to jelly. Heat’s radiating off him in waves, like the scorching midday sun off the white sands of a tropical beach. And I melt into his heat, clinging to him and kissing him back with everything in me.

Suddenly the room spins and he’s pressed me against the wall, holding me in place with the lower half of his body. My hips are pinned fast, restrained by his sharp angles and burning from contact despite layers of fabric. Our kiss takes on a life all its own, Gabriel’s hands caressing my face, as if learning me by touch. They slide over my cheeks, my jaw, my brow, my neck… My fingers are moving also, feeling the prominent bones and compact muscles that make up the planes of his chest.

Frenzied, he takes until I have nothing left, and then replenishes me, filling me with his essence until I think I’ll burst. My hands slip under his t-shirt, my nails clutching his back in a way that will leave territorial marks on his skin.

As our mouths continue their exploratory dance, I’m overwhelmed by the sensation my molecules are evaporating into the atmosphere one by one. I’m being undone until there’s no longer any sense of Alex or Alexia—the only thing that exists is Gabriel’s kiss.

I have no idea how much later it is when I come to my senses. Minutes? Eons? But the room’s deserted except for Gabriel panting into the crook of my neck and my own gasping breath thundering in the silence. My hands shake as I cradle his head, holding him against me while we catch our breath. In my breast, longing, aching and poignant for this boy I now hold, overwhelms all else. And I wonder if you can die of happiness…

After a moment, Gabriel pushes gently away. My bereft arms reach for him to come back—to make me whole again—but he evades my grasp. He takes a few steadying breaths, still trembling as he carefully regards me. His shuttered eyes cause my stomach to turn to acid. “I’m sorry, Alex.”

Not sure what I want to hear, his actual words are a slap in the face, a cold bucket of water dousing the most incendiary moment of my life. The kiss was an
act
—just a show that got a little carried away
—
and I’ve been duped as badly as Naomi. Gathering tears sting my eyes.

I force my voice not to waiver despite the shivers racking my chest. “No problem.” With a sense of satisfaction, I note the breeziness of my voice, as if I’m kissed like that every day. “We needed to appear convincing, right?”

My back’s still against the cool wall, as Gabriel pins my shoulders, forcing me to look at his face. There’s still something a bit wild and out of control in his features. He’s repulsed by what we’ve done. I can see it plainly, etched into the facets of his searching eyes. Fighting down my humiliation, I force my emotions away until I’m numb under his scrutiny. I shrug, rebelling against his hold on me. “It’s not a big deal.”

“No! I’ve never done—
that
—before. Ever! I’ve never even wanted to kiss someone before. But with you—it’s all I’ve been able to think about—for weeks.” He rubs his hands across his face, as if it’s a blackboard he can erase, expunging what he’s done. “It was so much more powerful than I could’ve imagined.” He shudders at the memory of kissing me, whispering, “
Terrible!
”

His turbulent eyes are the embodiment of misery as he continues to unburden his soul. “But now that I’ve started, I don’t think I can stop
kissing
you!”

Turning on his heels, Gabriel stalks out of the room, leaving me reeling with shock. Kissing me was
terrible
? My first kiss, so wild and out of control.
So disastrous
. All I can think is I’m some sort of perverse addiction which sickens him even as it beckons irresistibly. I’m Satan, his serpent, and the apple all rolled into one—a loathsome creature directly responsible for the destruction of a glorious angel.

With a silent admonishment not to shatter until I’m in the privacy of my room at the Fosters’, I head numbly to Government, nearly twenty minutes late.

The rest of the day Gabriel keeps a close distance. Our interaction’s polite and perfunctory—a perfect show. With each exchange, my hollowness eats away at me until nothing remains of my heart but a void.

After school, he’s at my side as I contemplate our seven long blocks that now hold all the appeal of a death march. We’re standing still for the moment, not quite looking at each other, when he says tightly, “Earlier was a mistake. I won’t do
that
again.”

Soundlessly I turn and start walking—fast—trying to outrun my tears because I don’t want to be a mistake. And because I want him to want to kiss me again, even if I am.

CHAPTER 8

Thanksgiving break comes two days after the kissing incident. But not nearly soon enough. Two days…forty-eight hours…two thousand, eight hundred and eighty minutes. Each minute a torture all its own. In two days, I learn a heart can hurt in more ways than I could ever imagine.

There’s the way it hurts when Gabriel acts like nothing’s wrong, his nonchalance a constant wrenching of my insides. The way it cuts because he can barely look at me, his anguished eyes brimming with remorse. The all-encompassing ache governing the uncomfortable silence as we walk my long seven blocks. There’s the stab of Naomi’s smug smile, because she senses our rift and goes out of her way to flirt. The throbbing when I lie to Kate and Steven about the “boy friend”—who’s not really neither. And the feeling of trust that shatters every time I remember Gabriel whispering “
terrible.”
Mostly there’s the pain of nothingness, the hollow void in my chest when I gaze at my heartbreakingly beautiful angel and his blazing halo that leaves me dazzled with sunstroke.