Page 10 of In the Light of the Moon

In the face of it, I grasped at the strap of my tote bag to calm the nervous fidgeting that would surely start up in my hands. “Looks to me like you’re not in your office,Orion. But I’ll be on my way now.” And just as I was spinning on my heel to finally join Kara like I should have done before this whole disastrous conversation, those piercing eyes met mine and… held them. Just for a stilted, bottomless moment.

That’s what I kept seeing in my dreams. The cream-colored skin even with the height of summer, crooked nose that hadsurely been broken a time or two… maybe even on that night I’d found him. Fuller, pink lips and a square jaw that was clenched tight as he watched me. And those brilliant, green eyes.

Orion broke the contact between us, turning back to whatever he was working on, and I sat down next to Kara in a daze. I pulled out the small book, a translated novel from my Twentieth Century French Literature course, but was scarcely able to retain any of the text that I read. So much so that later that night, after another potion-making lesson from Granna, I had to reread the progress I’d made. But it did little good, because my mind kept returning to that infuriating professor, and, embarrassingly, to how he looked.

There must have been something seriously wrong with me. All my previous partners had been sweeter, more considerate, but, yeah, okay, I had noticed Orion’s clean haircut that still left windswept curls. How his shirt was just fitted enough to reveal broad, sturdy shoulders and arms. How his hands looked thick, capable. I groaned, chastising myself all the way while I slunk under my covers, reaching in my bedside table for my vibrator.

And each time after that, when I saw him in the halls, Orion looked at me with various unintelligible glances, as if I was inconveniencing him by just existing.

One morning, when I was packing my notebook and planner into my bag, my back bristled at some pathetic awareness of him, and, sure enough, he was entering the emptying classroom with his own brown leather satchel slung on his shoulder. My professor, Dr. Vanders, was just exiting, but they gave Orion a friendly fist-bump on their way out, their breezy, paisley-patterned pants flowing with their steps.

Orion was in another well-fitted, long-sleeved shirt, though this one was a deep navy blue. His jeans and boots were equally as simple, but that also just—fit him.

I felt his eyes on me while I gathered my bag and pulled away from my seat in the room, and perhaps I did make an effort to exaggerate the swishing of my hips while I walked toward the door. My long dress was a black and slinky number with large white flowers throughout.

“Hey,” that voice hit my ears just as I was rounding the large desk near the door. My sandaled feet stopped and pivoted, my body like a magnet to him even if my mind was still irritated. And hurt.

“Yes?” I asked, smiling politely even though he didn’t deserve it.

Orion was still standing, though now his satchel was sitting in the wooden chair beside him. He cast a searching look about the room, and I realized then that we were alone. At least for a few moments until his students would start to arrive.

His brows, so close to the color of his skin that they were only visible at closer distances, wrinkled for a moment, as if he was intently thinking through what he was going to say. My arms crossed in front of my chest, and I belatedly realized that the movement just further exaggerated my already full bust when Orion’s apple-green eyes caught there for a moment so fast that I wondered if it was real. I quickly brought a hand up to the thick topknot on the crown of my head instead, feeling awkward.

“I just,” he cleared his throat and settled his eyes very near my mine but not quite, “wanted to say… thank you. Again.” His face was tightened as if he was struggling to even get the words out at all.

My gaze flickered to my left arm before falling back on him. The salve that I concocted truly worked wonders because I didn’t even have a mark from the wound he’d given me in his distress.

“Um, you’re welcome.”

“I am… indebted to you,” he said gruffly. Almost like he was bewildered by that fact.

I shifted on my feet, growing more uncomfortable by the second. My heart was fluttering excitedly with having his full attention on me. Speaking with me. And that just made me feel even more pitiful. Wanting to preen with him treating me like a person, now, and not dog shit under his shoe. He was watching me, nostrils flaring a bit.

But, no, I needed to stop this. It was turning into an unhealthy obsession. I moved here to help and spend time with Granna and to finish my degree. I’d already felt more and more disconnected with this… fixation on him. And maybe if he had been kind in return, it might’ve been worth it.

This was ridiculous. I hitched my bag even higher on my shoulder and forced the words out, “No. You’re not. I don’t do nice things expecting something in return.” And his pupils finally, finally landing on mine gave me a bit more bravado. “Goodbye,” I said with a saccharine smile to hide my nervousness.

Before he could utter a word, I left the classroom with my head held high. Even with my stomach sinking.

Twice more I saw Orion while I tried to focus on my courses. Work at Vinny’s was tedious, studies with Granna challenging, and though my traitorous mind still drifted to that symmetrical, angular face more than it had any right to, I made a point of avoiding his gaze in the halls. And those two times, he started toward me, surely wanting to cut me or speak more of thisdebtbetween us.

So, I walked the other way. I kept my head down when I caught sight of him and turned down another path, even with the hairs on the back of my neck prickling with awareness that those eery eyes were watching me.

CHAPTER FIVE

Orion

“No, Meredith, everything is fine,” I drawled while pushing the rickety shopping cart. My thumb swiped across my phone’s screen and pulled up the list I’d quickly typed before coming into town. The grocery store was almost, blessedly, empty this early on a weekday. There were six, beautiful minutes where I was able to shop in peace without having to navigate around anyone.

The calming crooning through my headphones was quickly interrupted, however, with her calling. “Why do you sound as though speaking with me is the last thing that you want to do?” I could hear her taking a drawing inhale and, a few seconds later, an exhale. She was certainly sitting on the patio, overlooking the sprawling, manicured yard while having her morning cigarette. Just the sound of it was making my fingers twitch.

“Because I don’t like talking on the phone,” I said absently while I examined a bag of red grapes before setting them into my cart. We continued in familiar rhythm with her trying to draw out conversation from me, nearly whining when I gaveshort, simple answers.First produce, then meat and dairy, then pantry, my gait wasn’t nearly as relaxed as it had been when I’d entered earlier, but it was still unhurried.

I was comparing two brands of peanut butter, as my preferred type was nowhere to be found this morning. After swallowing that flare of annoyance combined with exasperation at the incessant droning in my ears, my head snapped up just as someone rounded the corner and started to head down my aisle.

It was her.

That woman who helped me. The warm pull I’d been feeling toward her started up again, but my mind was unable to think through how to act appropriately. Obviously, what I’d been doing was having the opposite effect I wanted.

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