Girl, you have a knack for drawing trouble,” Billy says, clapping an affectionate hand on my shoulder.
Cynthia HandWhen I was a kid my mom used to tell me that if i have sex before i was married, my... junk would turn black and fall off.
Cynthia HandTags: humor
So who's lucky number three?
No answer.
I turn around to look at him again.
No.
He grins.
Now I get it, I tell him. You're stalking me.
Your hair smells like wind, did you know that?"
Yep, me and Tucker, smelling each other.
Coward, says the nagging voice inside my head. You should talk to him. Find out what he has to say.
What if he says we belong together?
Well, then you'll have to deal with that. But at least you won't be running away.
I think it's more of a brisk walk.
Whatever.
I'm having an argument with myself. And I'm losing. So not a good sign.
Your a member? I think at him incredulously.
He blinks in surprise that I am talking to him via brain. That it could be that easy, between us, when it's so hard with everyone else.
Yes. As of his morning.
And how does one become a member exactly?
You make a promise to serve the light. To fight for the side of good.
I thought they said they don't fight.
He gives me the mental equivalent of a shrug.
And that's what you did this morning?
Yes, he says unwaveringly. I took an oath.
And so the revelations keep on coming.
Hi there," Tucker says brightly, like we're bumping into each other on the street.
"Uh, hi."
"Nice night for stalking," he observes.
"No, I was---"
"Get your butt in here, Carrots.
I lie down on my bed, my back to the window, and the tears finally arrive, running down my face, into my ears, onto my pillow. I lie there for a long time, for hours maybe, and right as I'm about to finally drift to sleep I think I hear the flutter of Christian's wings as he flies away.
Cynthia HandJust so you know, this is the last time I ever trust you," I say.
"But you're so cute all covered in snow."
"Shut up and help me find my ski." We search through the powder for a while, but don't locate my missing ski. After ten fruitless minutes I'm convinced that the mountain has eaten it.
What? I demand to know. "What is it now?"
"You're not going to go." he says.
"Watch me."
"I've been having a vision of this place, too." This stops me from my wild, cowardly (how can he think I'm brave?) retreat back to the road ...
"You're having a new vision, too?" I ask.
"It's right here." He walks toward me, his strides long and purposeful across the grass. "Right now. I've been seeing it for weeks, and it's happening right now."
He stops in front of me.
"This is the part where I kiss you," he says.
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