Gravitate (19 page)

“Of course.” Her words had become clipped, as though she had heard the way he felt about me in the w
ords he’d chosen so carefully.

“Wonderful.” The word was said in a way to dismiss Donna and, to my shock, it worked, as she turned away and busied herself with collecting her script and heading off to the tech box as quickly as
her feet could carry her.
He watched her go and then walked over to me.

“Are you hungry?” He smiled down at me, as I
finished changing my shoes. I shook my head.
“You have to eat something.”

I produced a chocolate bar from my handbag. “Done.”

“Come outside for some air.” His blue eyes sparkled at me and even though I knew he couldn’t charm me, I felt powerless against
him.
I smiled to myself – he’d definitely won me over, despite his powers being next to useless when I was near him.

We walked out of the drama studio, to a little outside courtyard area that, in the summer, was popular with students, but now, as autumn gave way to wi
nter, found itself little used.
We sat down on the edge of a wall, our thighs touching, but restraining the rest of our bodies to avoid loo
king like anything but friends.
We were silent for a few moments, then I found my voice.

“I felt jeal
ous.”
I stared at my feet, as though my Converse were the most interesting things I’d ever seen.

“When?”
I felt him move his hand to touch mine, then rethink the move and replace his hand on his thigh.

“When you charmed her,” I paused, unsure of how to continue. “I only like it when you look at me like that.”

He sighed.
“I only did it for you.”

“I know. I just…felt jealous.
It was all I could do to not get in the way.”

“That’s how I felt when I was tryin
g to get you together with Ben.
And we shouldn’t really talk about this here.”

“I know.”
I unwrapped my chocolate bar. “And I don’t want to faint either, right?”

He smiled.
“Not if you can avoid it.”

I swayed into him and he nudged me back, spending just a fraction of a second longer in contact with my body than a friend would.

“Thank you for looking out for me,” I practically whispered the words.

“That’s what I’m here for.” Marty said, wistfully.

After Marty walked me back to rehearsal, the rest of the afternoon passed quickly, and within a few hours Donna h
ad been through all the scenes.
Then, she announced a rehearsal for the next day.

“Right, since, by some miracle, we have managed to rehearse all the scenes, tomorrow I’d like to meet in the theatre, to start plotting the lighting and trying out how your voices sound in a bigger space.”

The groans of my fellow students suggested that a Sunday rehearsal was unpopular, but it ap
peared to miss Donna’s hearing.
I knew Marty was on a shift at the hospice in the morning, so I didn’t mind rehearsing when I wouldn’t be
spending time with him anyway.
I wasn’t going to dwell on what tomorrow might bring when I had an evening to spend with Marty.

I gathered my belongings and saw him waiting for me,
my knight in a leather jacket.
My heart fluttered in my chest, unable to contain the sheer pleasure
that seeing him provoked in me.
My
day had improved dramatically.
Marty smiled when he saw me, but I could tell something was weighing on his mind.

“Hi, how was your day?” I asked him, trying to keep my tone light and my voice even.

“Not the best.
One of my
patients is really suffering.”
He looked away from me.

“Oh.
You
should go back to the hospice.”
I put my hand on h
is arm, trying to reassure him. “I can walk home on my own.”
He turned to face me as though I’d just yelled out a string of profanities.

“No, of course I’ll walk you home first,” his face softened, “I’d never forgive myse
lf if anything happened to you.
But I rea
lly do need to get back to him.
I can sense how close the end is for him.”

As we stepped outside, I could see why Marty did
n’t want me to walk home alone.
Even though it was late afternoon, darkness had settled and
a thick fog swirled in the air.
Cold breezes circled around u
s and I shivered involuntarily.
He was right, of course, I wouldn’t have wante
d to walk home, alone, tonight.
I stored up the questions I wanted to ask him, making a mental checklist
of things I needed to ask him.
We walked in silence, briskly, and w
ere back home in a few minutes.
Selfishly, I hoped he would be coming inside with me for a few moments, as
I turned the key in the lock.

He gently guided me into the dark hallway by my elbow and shut the door with his leg. Then his arms encircled me
and he kissed me passionately.
My heart accelerated and, suddenly, it was hard to b
reathe.
All too soon, he pulled away from me.

“I’m sorry, I have to go.”

“I know.
I’ll see you later.” I was grateful for the darkness, as I knew I was blushing.

“I won’t be long.” The sentiment was double edged – his excitement at knowing he would soon be home with me and his sadness that a patient would be passing over shortly.

He left quietly, clos
ing the door softly behind him.
The dar
kness was stifling without him.
I flicked on all the lights downstairs, hopelessly trying to fill the void he’d left
.
I tried not to think about how I would feel if our borrowed time ever ran out.

I needed to keep busy.
I put the radio on in the kit
chen, and began cooking dinner.
I decided to make a risotto – a dish that needed constant attention if it was to cook su
ccessfully.
The song on the radio was cheesy, but it made me feel a little bit lighter and I began dancing around the kitchen, singing as I gathered the ingre
dients from various cupboards.

Soon, I had plenty to keep my hands and mind occupied, the risotto gently simmered as it thickened and I stirred it in time to the
music.
I tried a mouthful and decided it needed a touch of the fancy, expensive, balsamic vinegar my parents had brought back from a trip to
Italy
a few months ago.
I opened the cupboard to get this ingredient, noting with annoyanc
e that it was on the top shelf.
Considering that both my parents were quite tall, it amazed me that I had ended u
p at a less-than-medium height.
They often put things away at levels where they could reach it, but I couldn’t – a throwback from my trou
blesome toddler years, I guess.
Now, having finished growing, I still struggled to
reach things from high places.
I struggled up, leaning on the work sur
face and stretching my hand up.
I could feel cold air hitting the skin around my waist as my shi
rt lifted up with my movement. Still not high enough.
I tried climbing up onto
the work surface with my knees.
I wobbled unsteadily, my knees sliding off the counter and I realised I was falling.

Suddenly, Marty was behind me, hands catching me on the exposed flesh around my waist. He held me tight, stopping my fall and placing my feet g
ently back on the tiled floor.
I didn’t know if it was the shock of nearly falling, the surprise of him being there to catch me, or the feeling of his fingers caressing my naked skin, b
ut I felt breathless and dizzy.
He reached one hand up, past my face and reached for the bo
ttle I had been trying to grab.
He placed it on the counter, and then returned his hand to my waist, gently brushing the skin in sma
ll circles with his fingertips.
A trail of goose bumps rose on my skin where he’d touched m
e and I trembled with pleasure.
He kissed my neck and I c
ould barely contain myself.

I swung around to face him and threw my arms around his ne
ck.
He kissed me, gently at first an
d then with increasing passion.
His breathing became more urgent, his lips more insistent and he lifted me up so I was sitting on the edge of the kitchen counter with m
y legs wrapped around his body.
My heart was drumming out an irregular rhythm and it felt so
loud I thought it would burst.
I couldn’t stop now, even if I wanted to, and
I didn’t think he could either.
I felt combustible, like he coul
d set me on fire at any moment.
My hands moved around his back, feeling the muscles r
ippling as his arms cradled me.
I grabbed the back
of his jumper and pulled it up.
This time he didn’t stop me, pausing only to break off from our kiss as I eased the jumper over his head and then he was
crushing his lips back to mine.
My fingertips traced over his newly exposed
flesh, relishing every touch.

A loud, piercing,
stabbing sound interrupted us.
I felt dazed, intoxicated by the closeness of him, and it took me a few seconds to realise that the
noise was the smoke detector.
The risotto was bu
rning to the bottom of the pan.
He was aware of it before me, of course, and broke away from me to turn off
the hob and silence the alarm.
I sat
on the counter, watching him.
I’d never seen him without a top on before and the sight made me feel giddy as I watched him fan the smoke detector with a magaz
ine to clear the air around it.
The phrase ‘poetry in motion’ coul
d have been written about him.
He even made the most mundane of movements look graceful.

I jumped off the counter to exam
ine the damage in the pan.
It was beyond repair, a sticky, burnt
mess welded to the metal pot.

“Damn.
I
think I’ll just throw this out.
I’m never going t
o get this pan back to normal.”
My voice sounded husky and I knew it wasn’t the smoke in the room t
hat had caused the effect.
When I turned around, Marty had put his jumper back on and had resumed clearing the air by opening the French doors.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have di
stracted you from the cooking.”
He gave me a guilty grin.

“You can distract me
any time you want.”
I looked away, embarrassed now that the spell had been broken.

“Don’t tempt me, Claudia, my willpower is weakenin
g every second I’m around you.” His voice sounded serious.
“I don’t know how I would have stopped if the alarm hadn’t gone off.”

“Explain to me again. Why we can’t…you know.”
I began trying to clean the pan, to have something to focus on, other than my embarrassment.

“Make love?
Claudia, if you’re thinking about doing it
, you should be able to say it!
I love how red your chee
ks go when you’re embarrassed.”
He chuckled at me and I couldn’t help but join in.

“Yes, make love, have sex, bonk, shag, do the horizontal mambo
, whatever you want to call it. Why can’t we?”
I gave up with the pan, slinging it in the bin and wipi
ng my hands clean.
I walked over to where he stood by the open door and slid my arms around his waist.

“You’re human, I’m an angel.
It isn’t meant to be.”

“You’ve said that before.  What would happen?”

“I don’t know.
Fallen angels have taken human wives
before.
I’m not fallen – I’m not meant to think this way.”

“You’re going too fast for me.” I felt his hand rub my back in a way that felt soothing, rather than sensual.

“I’m
sorry I can’t be human for you.
Fallen angels are those who have been cast out of
heaven and are stuck on earth.
They lack most of the qualities that make u
s angels, they aren’t like me.
Those who decided to have human wives did have offspring.”

“Are you wor
ried about getting me pregnant?
Cou
ldn’t we just use protection?”
I buried my head in his chest, knowing my cheeks were burning scarlet.