Page 33 of Fate Fiction

My entire body went cold. I suddenly knew exactly how I recognized the song. It was the Sword of Thorndown theme. Of course, when stripped away to a few simple notes whistled slightly out of key it was far removed from the source material, but it definitely was that.

For someone who spent nearly a decade of their life involved in a fictional universe it made sense that its very theme song would be embedded into their brain, but hearing the Thorndown theme escaping from the lips of Evan McLeod himself was…unsettling…in a way.

“Is that the theme from Sword of Thorndown?” my voice cracked a bit when I casually asked, maybe too casual. Quickly, I wracked my brain to determine if the average person would recognize it. Alarm bells were going off in my head. My brain was a building on fire that desperately needed to be put out. I was tempted to dive back into the water.

Evan was silent. Maybe I’d done a decent enough job of covering up my fandom, or maybe he’d been anticipating this moment since he first met me. His quiet grew unsettling.

“You’ve seen it?” he asked tentatively, he turned his face skyward. His fingers drummed on the rock anxiously.

My fandom was a mask I could put on and transform like the Green Goblin. I envisioned myself ravenously obsessed, finally able to show my true colors, chasing Evan out of the woods waving around a replica of the very sword he carried in the show.

Surely that’s how he’d perceive me if I gave off even the tiniest indication of being a fan.

Maybe four years ago I would’ve been slightly more unhinged in the presence of him, not exactly the chasing in the woods piece, but head over heels for sure. Four years ago I wouldn’t have even been able to look at Evan, much less speak to him. Maturity was a fickle thing. Sure, much of my obsession had dissipated, but there was still a small glow of embers, almost waiting to be reignited. Every so often I’d need to tamp it down.

Especially in the past twenty four hours.

“I have.” I paused a beat, ruminating on if the statement even needed a follow up, “it fell off for me a bit after season six, truthfully.”

This was a half lie. The show’s chokehold on my psyche had absolutely waned, but I still held onto it like it was a liferaft and my mental health was a sinking boat. In the weeks surrounding my breakup I’d been rewatching old episodes on repeat as a small comfort. I would most definitely not tell him that.

“Sorry,” I continued quietly, “I didn’t ever want to bring it up while you were here and make you think I had ulterior motives or was going to make things weird.”

My heart was racing, the rush of blood in my ears as loud as the falls. Evan remained silent, his mouth was twitching ever so slightly, like he was formulating the right thing to say. I could imagine the calls to his lawyer later, made from the corded phone hanging in the makeshift office at Sue and Randy’s house. How quickly could the local cops show up to escort me away from the premises?

The pause stretched and became excruciating. I had expected him to snatch up his towel and take off running into the woods to get away from me.

“It fell off after season six for me, too,” he said with a light laugh. I so badly wanted to turn and face him, just to see if his eyes indicated how he really felt, “is that why you’ve been so cold to me?” Sadness laced his question.

My cheeks were getting hotter and hotter. “Partially, sure,” I lied, because if I reacted how I truly had wanted to, I’d still be screaming into my pillow. “I didn’t want to seem like I was ruining your trip being here. You must think I’m such an asshole.”

“On the contrary, I assumed you thought I was the asshole.”

The tension left both of our bodies. I could see his shoulders lower. He didn’t need to know the rest of my truth. Half the weight was freed off my chest, that would have to be enough.

I let out a laugh. “I promise I won’t bring up the show, at all. I know you didn’t run away forty miles into the woods to talk about it, much like I didn’t run away forty miles into the woods to think about my ex.”

As I flipped myself over to tan my back, I noticed a smile had spread across his face.

I didn’t realize that I had fallen asleep on my towel, or that Evan had somehow done the same. Maybe neither of us were truly built for early morning wake up calls followed by a hike. The weather was so perfect and the sound of the water was so relaxing that after I buried my head in my arms I must’ve dozed off. I lifted my head to see Evan, slack jawed, with his sunglasses obfuscating his closed eyes behind tinted lenses.

It was fascinating being so close to Evan now. I could see the smile lines developing under his eyes and the slight curvature of his nose. He seemed so oddly comfortable, even immediately after finding out I was, at one point in time in his eyes, a fan.

I think I liked Evan, this Evan, not “the” Evan McLeod. I liked that he was so easy to get along with, despite my continued protests. Maybe he and I could be friendly companions for the next five days.

After turning back over and stretching a bit—rocks were hardly an adequate sleeping surface for someone pushing thirty—I stood up.

My hair had dried into loose curls, skimming against my shoulders. My body was limber and warm. The hike back to the car wouldn’t be difficult, but it would be decently long, and I was grateful my swimsuit had dried enough to comfortably put my clothes back on over it.

I gathered my things as quietly as I could, taking a quick bite of my sandwich before folding up the towel. Evan was still asleep. Should I gently wake him or wait until he arose himself? I stood at a distance, still contemplating the options.

Fortunately the decision was made for me. He stretched out on his towel like a cat and immediately looked to where I had been laying. I whipped around to see Evan sitting up and looking at me.

“You weren’t planning on leaving me here, were you?” His voice was groggy, his accent seemed to have a stronger hold on him when he was half awake.

“I think Sue would be pissed if I killed off her only guest this week. Unless the check already cleared.”

His laugh was breathy, like he was mid-yawn when I made the quip.