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19
CLARISSA
I’M ENAMORED. THERE. I’VE SAID IT.
Not even aloud but to myself in the mirror, where I stand mulling over which T-shirt I should cut into an extra midriff jogging top. I have an excuse to look good and plenty of pent-up energy to burn off.
“Especially trying not to do what you want to.” My voice sounds more judgmental than I intended, and I wonder if it’s the echo of the bathroom tiles making my tone more harsh. “No, it’s the situation you’re in. You need to get it together.”
Since when did I start sounding like Agent Todd? I’m not even halfway through with cutting off the right sleeve of my cotton shirt, conveniently riddled with holes in the exact spots I wanted to trim.
I can’t wait to casually jog by Emile in this. It’s the perfect blend of ‘no, I’m not trying to look good’ and ‘yes, I do look good’ to be a passive smash. I need to start thinking about my future and not the past, and the Holy Rollers are just that.
Sure, maybe they aren’t in the distant past, but I shouldn’t be worried about exposing myself to the right person because my name is different. It’s only temporary and so is the rest of my predicament.
If my nightmares have taught me anything at this point, it’s that I don’t need to be led by fear. Just because I dream about something, doesn’t mean I should stop living when awake. It’s only natural that I’m afraid, but Emile won’t be around forever.
Isn’t that kind of another problem, though?
“When did I become Agent Todd?” I practically yell, only realizing on the last syllable that I’ve worry-walked into the spare room. The flowers and their not-so-quiet eyes gaze back at me, and I don’t have the energy to decipher each of their knowing looks. Not right now, at least.
I’ve been meaning to get to some of the boutiques downtown before they close. I’ve missed burning incense and could use a few more plants to complement the beauty Emile dropped off. Maybe I could even pick him up a gift or two, something edible and a touch more difficult than he’s yet to experience at my table. I could get used to planning my days around Emile, at least somewhat, to suit both of our needs.
I take a short jog toward the town, lost in my thoughts. Seeing the expression on his face as I pulled away from his lips on the boat the other day might forever remain as one of my top favorite moments.
Neither one of us had mentioned the ‘couple’ comment, and I wonder if he’s thinking about it as much as I am. We do work well together. There’s a small boat full of kids and a handful of grateful parents to attest to that. I relive the moment over and over as I gather a decent collection of groceries and then check out, before moving on to the next store.
I keep thinking about what to tell Agent Todd when he no doubt accuses me of blowing my cover by ‘heading into town.’ The bouquet of silver bells hanging over The Rare Earth and Vine Boutique chimes in my ear as I enter the heavenly-smelling shop.
“Welcome,” a cheery employee dressed in a dark-brown romper says. “I can hold your bags back here if you want to shop around hands-free.” She extends her hands palms up, and I smile as I hand over my overflowing grocery bags.
“Thoughtful of you.”
“Having a party?” she asks, no doubt noticing the numerous bottles of literal blood wine. “Because I’d be happy to give you a little discount to get on the guest list.”
I note her pale skin and ageless face and immediately realize the woman is a vampire.
“Are they any good?” I ask, hoping her excitement means yes.
“All of them, but I love a good glass or five, so maybe my standards are low?” She tilts her head playfully, and I smile. “Let me know if you need help with anything.”
“Oh, I think I’ve got it, Sandra. Your best customer will show her around,” a familiar voice says from behind a rack of hand-made gifts and postcards.
Before I can turn, Marcel’s pale hand is on my shoulder. He’s somewhat cold to the touch, but his grin more than makes up for it. The warmth of it hits me like a ton of feathers, and I know one thing for sure. He’s grinning like he has a secret.
“Marcel, hi,” I reply lamely. For something to do, I grab a candle from an oak shelf against the wall and inhale.
“Shopping for the new bathroom?” he asks before grabbing another candle and handing it to me. I take a big whiff of sage and citrus. I let my eyes roll to the back of my head as I take another long inhale.
“Okay, now you look like you’re in a commercial shop for the new bathroom.” His tone is gleeful, and I rack my brain for ways to change the subject without looking obvious.
Has Emile mentioned the bathroom to him since the last time they saw each other? Did the conversation drift into any other territory? Such as romance? I chew my lower lip while wondering if I should broach the subject myself.
Hey, you know your best friend, right? The full-grown adult with the killer body and kind eyes? Yeah… does he, like, like me, you think?
“Just trying to get out of the house and enjoy the day.”
“You and Emile are both like that,” he says, almost before I can even get my full sentence out. This might be easier than I thought…
