Page 500 of Flirting with Darkness

I missed him already.

3

He came after that, many more times, never acknowledging what had happened that day. But that was fine; no one ever did.

He and I sat beneath the trees, and I taught him how to read. Somehow the rain trickled in the treetops above but never landed on us. He’d lean close, his elbow brushing mine, and I’d inhale his scent, which was all fresh greenery and the sweetness of flowers. I’d have teased him about it, but something about Tor was always a little intimidating, even though I loved having him close to me.

That day—the last day he came—I sat on one of the broad swings and kicked my legs, pumping myself higher and higher into the ground. The rain was cold and piercing, on the edge of becoming hail, and it stung my face all the harder when I came so close to the sky. But it was worth it. I always swung facing toward the towards the woods, so I could see him coming.

He emerged from the woods, slinking out of it as if he were one with the woods. One second, he was not there, and the next he was.

“What are we reading today?” he demanded.

“You know how to read,” I said.

He flashed me a smile, and I noticed he’d grown taller, his shoulders starting to spread. It made me feel small and clumsy beside him.

“I need you,” he said lightly, teasingly, but the words still made something inside me tilt. We were both starting to grow up.

He reached down and took the book out of my hand. He rested one elbow casually on my shoulder as he flipped the book open and read a random bit.“Her parents were still arguing when they left for the wedding. Weddings were supposed to be the happiest day of someone's life, but she thought no day could ever live up to that hype. Weddings were always such a production and spectacle, with all the attention on the happy couple. But were they really that happy? She couldn't imagine being happy with all that attention. When the officiant asked for the rings, she realized she'd been daydreaming. And someone was staring at her.”

He flipped it shut. “I can see why you like this book.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’re always trying to disappear.”

He said it so confidently, as if he saw more than our little moments under the trees.

I opened my mouth to argue with him, and he added, “What’s a wedding like?”

“You’ve never seen one.”

His lips quirked to one side. “Not around here.”

I wasn’t entirely sure what to make of that.

“Well,” I said, “the groom is already waiting at the alter when the music starts playing.”

He straightened his jacket, his posture rising to be even taller, and took a place by the swing set. “Like this?”

“Yes, like that, I guess.”

“So, you must be the bride. There’s music?”

I nodded. The wind between the trees began to sound like music itself, drifting from the forest in faint, high strains.

I walked toward him, and the grass seemed to sway before me. I paused uncertainly. “This is just pretend.”

He cocked his head to one side, studying me, as if he was understanding something about me. Then he said, “Do you still want to see me as I really am?”

“Yes.” My voice came out a soft breath.

“Come here, then,” he said, holding out his hands to me.

There was definitely music playing now, rising from the forest, haunting and eerie and beautiful.

But unlike that first day, even when I felt the hairs on my arms stand up, I still walked toward him.

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