The House of Grey- Volume 4 (19 page)

He stopped suddenly
when
he
spotted
Taris standing in the shadow of
a large weeping willow.
He slowed down
,
taking deep breaths
and
trying not to appear winded.

He had made it. What a relief.  As Monson hunched over
,
continuing to try to
gain
control of his breathing
,
he
looked at
Taris’ outfit
,
hoping he was not underdressed. An instantaneous
dual
sensation of rising and falling
came over him
.  He could be wearing an Armani
t
hree
-
piece suit and it would not have mattered. Taris looked amazing. A glossy
,
green
dress
with spaghetti straps
fell to
mid-
thigh
as
she
stood delicately
balanced
on three-inch green heels.  The ensemble seem
ed
to simmer as the ever
-
so
-
elusive sun lit
up
her figure. 
She had a thin
white cardigan
draped over her shoulders
and
carried
a
handbag in the same shade of green as her dress. Monson
realized that his breath
was not
lost
because of
his lack of physical
conditioning
, but
because of
a beautiful girl.  He slowly stood, straightening up
to his full height, and
walked towards
her
. It was at this particular second
,
however
,
that
he
realized she was not alone
:
Taris Green stood face to face with Damion Peterson.

Upon seeing this
,
Monson jumped behind a bush
to
hid
e
himself from view.
But
he
also hid
what was happening
from his view
.
And, Monson realized, he was too far away from them to
eavesdrop
. Eavesdrop!
What was he thinking? Why would he care what they were talking about? Now that he thought about it
,
why
was
he hiding in the first place?

“Monson
?
”

He
jumped as a calm
,
steady voice
said
his name.  He pale
d
even before he turned around,
since
he knew exactly who stood just behind him
:
Cyann
,
standing with a thoroughly confused look on her face.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” said Monson
,
quickly avoiding her gaze. He noted wryly that Grayson
had
once caught him a similar
situation on the first day of school. What that was a long time ago.
He
really
needed to start paying attention to his surroundings. He would so not last in a war.

He
watched as she answered. “And what
do you think it
look
s
like?”
Cyann
seemed very fidgety
,
and something
was
different about her. Maybe it was her hair. He was not quite sure.

“Good
question.
” Monson tried to smile. “Why don’t you tell me what it looks like
, and
then I
’
ll tell
you
if
you
’re right
?”

Monson thought that he almost
conjured
a smile out of that one.
But Cyann masked any
reaction to his joke
with
a quick double take towards Taris and Damion
,
who seem
ed
to be wrapping up their conversation under the tree.

“What are you doing here?” asked Monson
,
trying to change the subject.

“Off to do a little shopping
,
” replied Cyan
n, her eyes back on him
. “Are you
OK?
Y
ou look like you’ve had better nights.”

Understatement of the year
,
he thought
.
“Yeah
,
I
didn
’
t
sleep well last night. So
,
shopping
,
h
uh?”

“Yeah, getting ready for the dance,” said Cyan
n,
betraying nothing in her calm voice.  “It should be fun.”

That did it! What in the world was going on? Why was she
behaving
so
formally
? It was
as
if they had just met.  It was so frustrating
, and it
was about time he said something to her.

“Cyann, you made it,” said another calm
,
quiet voice.

Damion walked up to them
,
his
expression
bearing
a
trace
of annoy
ance
. This was odd
,
considering Damion was about as controlled as they c
a
me. He g
lared
at
Monson disapproving
ly,
then
glanced at Cyann.

“Well
,
are you ready? The train leaves at
one thirty
. So we’d better
go,
”
h
e said in a voice that was
very different
from his usual confident tone
.

Cyann nodded and walked slowly towards Damion
,
who placed his hand
on
her back. Monson took a deep breath as he watched them walk away. 

All he could think about was the burn of a knife wound that he was not sure he received in a place where it was unclear if he had been there.

“Taris!” said Monson aloud as he realized that he was now very late for his date. He spun around
,
look
ing for the green-eyed beauty, but
saw nothing but the swaying of the
tree branches
.

“Crap
!
”
H
e ran towards
The GM n
ot entirely sure what to do
,
but he thought that
would be
the most likely place
to find her
. He was in trouble and he knew it. Why did it turn out like this? Stupid. Monson looked for
Taris for
at least an hour
,
roaming the halls and looking in both the Inner Gardens and around some of
the
more secluded stops. She was not
anywhere
. Kicking himself
,
he walked slowly towards
The Barracks,
all while trying to figure
out
how he was going to get out of this mess.

“The Atrium
,
”
said
a small voice in the back of his mind.

“What?” Monson
stopped
dead in his tracks and sp
un
around
on the spot
.
“Who said that?”

“Your fairy godmother! Who do
you
think said it?”

“Dawn?” Monson again look
ed
around. “No freaking way!”

“
Don’t
look around, you fool
. I
a
m in your head
,
remember?”

“I knew that. So what are you doing?”
asked
Monson
,
realizing
how dumb he would look if anyone cam
e
by
while he was
seemingly
talking to himself.

“I was telling you where Taris is
,
”
replied Dawn in an irritated voice
.
“I have to ask you a question. Are you trying to ruin this relationship as well? Stop acting like such a boy.” 

“Shut up
!
” Monson headed towards
t
he Atrium
.

He hurried to the front doors
,
slowing his pace
as he approached
so he could right himself and try to figure out what he was going to say to Taris. Nothing came to mind. He would have to wing it. 
B
racing himself for a severe scolding
,
he opened the
doors
.

He searched
,
taking in the expanse of
space,
and was disappointed when he did not see Taris
anywhere
.

“What now
,
smart guy?” asked Monson quiet
ly.

“Far corner
. I swear, no matter the age, men are always the same,
”
answered Dawn with a note of amusement
.
“Now
,
when talking to women it
i
s important to remember
—
”

“I can do this on my own, thanks.  By the way, is there any way to turn you off? You’re getting on my nerves.” Maybe that was the key
,
maybe Monson just had to ask
,
or
maybe it was a figment of his imagination
,
b
ut with those simple words Dawn was gone.

What
he
saw next totally disarmed him. Taris
G
reen
,
the witty green-eyed beauty
,
sat in a secluded section of
t
he Atrium crying harder than Monson thought possible. Now he really did not know what to do. He
had prepared
himself for ang
er
, violence even
—
but tears? No, that was truly unexpected. He had no idea how to handle tears.

He
stopped as he heard a
n angry
voice.  Taris was saying something in between her sobbing
; it
appeared to be
a stream of swear
words
.
Monson
cringed
as he
caught
“Stupid
i
diot, I can’t believe him
.
”
He
needed to apologize, but how was he supposed to do that? 

Monson
walked forward
,
about
to call out
her
name when she
turned in
his direction. Her eyes were red and puffy
and
her makeup was running all over the place
,
giving her the appearance of a
very
upset
,
slightly deranged clown. She stared at him as if she was waiting for him to say something. Monson tried more than once to do just that, but the words would not come. Taris burst into tears again as she stood and started to run towards him. For a golden fleeting second
, Monson
saw a glorious vision
of Taris
crashing into his arms
,
allowing him to hold her as he wiped away whatever burdens she carried. 
Yet,
like so often happen
ed
in life,
his
dream
was very
different
from
reality.