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When we reached the end of her street I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding. I finally looked at Jules. She had her legs crossed and her right elbow on the window’s edge twisting a curl in her hand.
“You’re sweating Elliott Gray,” she said coolly.
“What?” I said, reaching my hand to my forehead, wiping away the perspiration.
“Need a towel?” She teased.
“Yes, actually,” I laughed, “I nearly hyperventilated from the very look of you. I don’t think your dad was too happy with me when it took me forever to break my stare.”
“He’ll survive,” she said. “Besides,” she leaned in close, “I like the way you stare at me. It’s a sweet stare. It makes me feel beautiful.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem for you Jules. You should feel that regardless.”
“It means a little more when you make me feel that way though. So, thank you.”
“You’re welcome ma’am,” I said and tipped an imaginary hat her direction.
On our way to the library in Charleston, Jules and I talked about anything and everything. When the conversation turned toward music, it got heated though. We were both extremely opinionated when it came to music. Ironically, we loved all of the same bands but differed in opinion when it got down to the nitty gritty of the inner workings of individual songs. The heat was awesome actually. It was fun to talk to someone who held legitimate interest and opinion in something that mattered to me and we traded banter for almost an hour on the subject. When we reached the library and parked in the garage across the street, I put my truck in park and sighed with satisfaction. She was the most intellectually stimulating conversation I had ever had.
“You’re somethin’ else miss Jacobs,” I said trying to catch my breath.
“You’re quite a match, my friend. Sparring with you sure does bring out the spirit in a girl.”
I got out and ran to the other side of the truck. I opened the door for her and grabbed her hand. She thanked me and I grabbed our bags. We walked up the giant steps of the large stone library and ducked through its majestic entrance.
“This library is my Mecca,” whispered Jules.
“If I could, I would set up a tent in the back and read my life away,” I whispered back. “Join me?”
“Yes, sir. I will. I would,” she said looking up at me.
I grabbed her hand and we left a sparkled trail leading to a secluded table in the corner at the back of the library. Jules looked behind us.
“We have a supernatural gift that only we can see and benefit from Elliott,” she said matter-of-factly.
I stopped short.
“You know, for weeks I’ve tried to pin it down, get an exact name for it. I’m still trying to decipher its capabilities and parameters and all but it’s definitely our own exclusive gift. It’s fascinating.”
“And awesome. Really awesome,” she barely whispered the last part.
We smiled at each other.
Jules and I smiled a lot. So much, that I found my cheeks actually hurt when I finally rested my head at the end of the day. I would rub the muscles in them, readying them for their inevitable workout the next day. We were unashamed about showing the way we felt on our faces. That’s what I liked about Jules. She was not afraid to tell me through words, expressions, or our ability what she thought and how she felt. What a firework.
We sat at opposite ends of the table and poured our books onto its dark veneered surface. An hour had passed, I looked up and noticed we were absolutely alone. I interrupted her frenzied writing by placing my hand on hers.
“Jules?”
Her head popped up.
“Yeah?”
“Can I? Can I try something?”
A sly smile spread across her face.
“What?”
