Page 27 of It's In His Hiss

My head may be spinning like a washing machine, but I’m a statue. Literally. A naked statue lying in a very unflattering position that only my OBGYN would be proud of. If I die like this, I’ll need a Y-shaped coffin.

And there he is, my gorgon with the hypnotic green eyes, now dulled by worry, flipping through ancient tomes so fast I can practically feel the breeze.

“Come on, come on,” he mutters, running his fingers through his snake-laden head. “There has to be something…”

He’s handsome when he’s focused. The way his green eyebrows furrow, how his jaw sets. If I could move, I’d sigh. Instead, I watch him light some sage and another, less identifiable herb, creating a smoke that swirls around me like a caress I can’t quite feel.

It’s hard to keep my thoughts straight. Like they’re drifting apart, slipping through mental cracks I didn’t know I had. I try to focus, but some things blur around the edges—memories, words, time.

If I didn’t want to get out of my stony state so desperately, I might be content to sit and watch him like this for the rest of my life.

“Anything?” he asks aloud, though it’s clear the question is for himself. The hope in his voice is a physical thing, almost enough to crack the stone of my cheek.

Maybe I have magic that could help,I think, desperate to break free from this stony prison. But how do you tap into potential magic when you’re more sculpture than sorceress?

I do my best to send him a mental image of Verity and Gideon, the only people I think could help, butno thought bubble appears over my head, and Gordy doesn’t click his fingers as if he’s had an epiphany. For hours, I try to send him mental pictures of Verity and Gideon, but nothing happens.

Where are they? Did they forget me?

No—Verity wouldn’t. She’s probably tearing the magical world apart trying to reach me. Unless… she doesn’t know. Unless I’m slipping through the cracks of everything.

Then, my sluggish brain remembers. They’re traveling—some magically warded retreat Gideon insisted on for their belated honeymoon. No cell service, no magical interference. Just my luck to get turned into a statue the one time my best friend is off the grid.

Days pass. They must because Gordy grows more stubble, and the piles of rejected solutions around us grow taller. At some point, he wrestled me into an oversized robe and leaned me against the wall beside his desk—good to know my gorgon is respectful of my nakedness, even in my stony predicament.

He’s on the phone now, voice hushed, pleading. “Please, she’s…No, no conventional curse-breaking has worked. Yes, I’ve tried reversing the gaze, I’ve tried…” He cuts off, sighing deeply. I imagine I can feel his warmth as he stands close.

“Al, I’ll fix this,” he promises again, looking at me with those eyes that turned me to stone but now look so heartbreakingly soft. “I’ll find a way.”

Will you?I silently challenge the universe.Can anyone?

He slumps, pinching the bridge of his nose, and I wish I could touch him, comfort him. Guilt exudes from him, as tangible as the herb-scented smoke wreathing the room.

His next call is more frantic, the edge of fear sharpening his usually calm voice.

“Look, I know it’s been a while, but I need your expertise on petrification.” Pause. “Yes, it happened. I didn’t mean to…”

Of course you didn’t,I think fiercely.You’re too careful, toocautious.

“Okay, I’ll hold,” he says into the receiver, rubbing a hand over his face.

Gordy,I mentally prod, trying to infuse my silent words with warmth,you’re doing everything you can. More than anyone else would.

But he doesn’t hear me. He can’t hear the growing affection in my stillness, the way my heart would race if it weren’t made of stone.

More sex would be awesome,I muse, a chuckle trapped inside my marble throat.Preferably without the whole turning-to-stone part. Note to self: discuss boundaries and safe words. Or safe looks, I guess. Blindfolds, maybe.

Stay strong, Gordy,I tell him silently, the man who doesn’t know I’ve fallen for him, hard as the rock encasing me.For both our sakes. And please remember me telling you about how and why Gideon turned Verity to stone.

Watching him now, so forlorn, I wish for nothing more than to ease his pain. To tell him he’s not alone in this mess, that this strange, impossible love blooming inside me is strong enough to endure even this stony silence.

Keep trying, my sweet, nerdy gorgon,I urge silently, hoping somehow, someway, my feelings reach him.But remember, I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere.

I’ve had my share of crushes, sure. Dated a few jocks with more brawn than brain, flirted with the sensitive types who write poetry by moonlight. But Gordy? He’s different. He’s smart, funny, and has this shy charm about him that could make any girl swoon if she dared look into those hypnotic eyes. And the night we first kissed? Yeah, I knew then I’d give anything to be his, even if his caresses were more petrifying than tender.

It’s been days—or maybe weeks. I’ve lost track of time, and he’s a mess. Dark circles hang beneath his eyes, more luggage than anyone needs for a trip to nowhere.

He slumps in his chair, resting his head in his hands, and something inside me cracks a little more. If I could cry, there’d be a river turning the hardwood floor into a sappy lagoon.

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