Dark Creations: The Hunted (Part 4) (7 page)

Gabriel silently questioned whether his ears had heard correctly, that his brain had properly processed what Melissa had just said, that
he
had had given her goose bumps.  He knew he ought to say something,
anything
, that his mouth hung open slightly and surely lent him a goofy overall expression.  Hearing her say that
he
had caused her to have a physical response had left him speechless.  But he needed to speak, sooner rather than later, and maintain whatever alluring, playful banter she might want.

“I’m glad,” he fumbled then immediately regretted his word choice.

I’m glad
, he thought. 
How stupid does that sound?  Glad for what exactly, the goose bumps?
  If Melissa were privy to his thoughts, she would realize that despite all the genetic endowments he’d received from his maker, he was completely inept when it came to romance.  He had no idea what to do.  He hadn’t had years to prepare for such instances, like other guys his age; they had had the benefit of experiencing puberty rather than reading about it.  Gabriel could rattle off every physiologic change that occurs when one is attracted to another, was well versed in every stage of human maturation, but had no idea how to effectively seduce his very attractive girlfriend.  He wanted to charm her with his words, be suave like leading men in movies.  Yet everything he said sounded foolish, and
wrong
.

“I mean, I’m glad I do that to you,” he tried again.

In his head he was screaming at himself:
What? You’re glad you give her goose bumps?  What the hell does that even mean?
He didn’t think it was possible to make a bigger fool of himself than he already had, but somehow managed to make things worse.  He wanted to take things slowly with Melissa.  He loved her, respected her.  He also knew that she had been attacked and was almost raped less than a year earlier.  The last thing he wanted to do was make her uncomfortable with ridiculous advances, but what he was attempting, the flirting, was pathetic.  He worried he would never be able to communicate his desire for her at the rate he was going.

“I’m glad too, Gabriel,” Melissa said and rested her hand on his knee.

From her gesture, he suddenly realized that perhaps humiliation suited him.  He smiled at her and placed his hand atop hers then took a large gulp of his wine.  The alcohol did precious little to calm his raging pulse.  It pounded so loudly, he felt it in his temples.  He worried that, with her hand on his leg, she could feel the blood racing through his veins as his heart pumped thunderously.  If he did not get control of himself fast, he would surely hyperventilate.  He took several deep breaths and hoped she didn’t notice then he looked at her.  She looked exquisite.  Her dress showed off her neck and shoulders, and her legs.  Her skin was pale and soft, a departure from the angry red or leathered brown he usually saw on the girls at the lake, and whatever lotion she had used shimmered slightly in the light.  She smelled like cookie dough, sweet and sugary.  Her hair was pulled up away from her face with just a few errant strands that fell in waves.  He wanted to kiss her exposed sweet-smelling neck.  

Gabriel finished his glass of wine and poured another.

“Wow, I’ve never seen you drink so much.  I guess I’ll call a cab or something later.”

“Or you could just spend the night here,” he suggested as he stared at his wineglass.

Gabriel was stunned by his own proposal; that he’d managed to actually suggest she spend the night with him without passing out.  He guessed that any second, she would slap him for his impudence.  Several seconds passed and her small hand had not stuck him.  He was surprised as she seemed to consider staying as an option.

“Isn’t Yoshi coming back?” she asked.

“He’s doing laundry and seeing a late movie, and spending the night at a motel.”

“Oh, so we have the whole place to ourselves, all night?”

Outwardly Melissa was the picture of calm, but something in her eyes betrayed her.  He saw it briefly, a spark of sorts, a look that could only be described as happiness, and mischief.  His heart raced dangerously.

“Yes, if you like.”

“Well, it seems as though my designated driver has bailed on me, so I may not have a choice.”

“Melissa if you’re worried about getting home, I’ll stop drinking right now and in a few hours, I’ll be fine to take you home.  Or I’ll call a cab when you’re ready and ride with you if you prefer,” he panicked.

“Gabriel, I was joking,” she said and moved her hand from his leg to his arm.

“Oh, okay,” he sighed, relieved.  “I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything.”

“Pressured?” she asked with genuine confusion.

“Yes.  I don’t want you to feel like I’m pressuring you to do something you’re, you know, not ready to do, or don’t want to do,” he tried to explain.

“Gabriel, we’ve been going out for almost a year now and the most we’ve done is kiss.  Trust me, I don’t feel pressured.”

“You’re sure?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m totally sure,” she said.  He couldn’t help but feel he was missing some key piece of their conversation.  Her response was so confident, so finite.  He guessed there was more to her statement that he did not get.  His bafflement must have been written on his face because she qualified her answer.

“Other guys our age would not have been as patient as you,” she began.  “They would expect stuff on the first date.  To them it would be dinner, movie, sex.  Period.  And in some cases, it would be meet at a club, next meeting, sex.  Do you get what I’m saying?”

“I guess.  But I really don’t see how dinner and a movie even implies
that
,” he said.   “How exactly, does going out with a girl you like translate into sex afterward?”

“I have no idea really.  I think some guys feel that if they pay for a girl’s meal and movie ticket that he’s entitled to grope her.”

“Entitled?  Really?  That doesn’t even make sense to me.  Just
being
with a girl you like should be enough.  The whole feeling entitled thing is kind of … disturbing, like a girl is an escort or something; her dinner or whatever activity he foots the bill for becomes payment for anticipated services, is that right?”

“Jeez, Gabriel, when you put it like that it’s even creepier.  But yes, I guess that’s pretty much it.”

“And this is how guys have treated you in the past, expecting something in return for whatever they invited you to do with them?”

Gabriel could feel his temper flare imagining other guys trying to paw at Melissa.  His hand involuntarily clenched into a fist.

“Well, yeah.  And some of them, like Kevin, didn’t even attempt the whole courtship route.  I mean, he just drove to the Rec Center and tried to maul me.”

Though Kevin Anderson was dead, he could not help but tense at the mention of his name.  He had seen him as he attacked Melissa in the woods behind Harbingers High School the night of the bonfire.  If he hadn’t come when he did, if he hadn’t stopped the attack before it went any further, Melissa would have been a statistic, another faceless victim of date-rape.  The thought of her alone, vulnerable and trapped in a car with the lecherous jock that outweighed her by more than a hundred pounds, made his blood boil.  His fist tightened.

“Gabriel, are you okay? You’re knuckles are white,” Melissa noticed.

“Oh, sorry,” he said sheepishly.  “Just mentioning that guy’s name makes me so mad.”

“He’s dead, Gabriel.  There’s nothing more he can do,” she reminded him.

“Of course I know that.  My mind just goes right back to that night in the woods after the bonfire, what was happening, what could have happened.  I think of you alone with him at the Rec Center, and if he weren’t dead already, I’d want to kill him myself.”

Gabriel wasn’t sure but he assumed discussing the night she was almost raped was the most effective way to cool whatever romantic fire burned between them.  In fact, he felt confident he had just dumped the verbal equivalent of cold water on the meager heat he had generated.  He took another sip of his wine and scolded himself silently for ruining what could have been the best night of his life when Melissa surprised him by kissing his cheek.

“What was that for?” he asked dejectedly.

She took his face in her hands and looked at him.  The medley of green shades in her eyes was highlighted by the purple of her dress as she seemed to stare straight through him.  She closed them briefly then pressed her full lips against his.  Her gesture was tender, gentle.  Suddenly, it did not matter to him what direction their relationship went in, as long as he could continue to kiss her perfect lips.  She leaned back and looked at him a second time, then grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him toward her.  She kissed him again, only this time it was not tender.  She kissed him with urgency.  Her hands moved from his shirt to his hair as she tangled them in the longer top-portion of it.  His heart raced and the world began to spin.  She kissed him passionately and paused only to playfully nibble his lower lip. 

He could not place exactly what he was feeling, the sensation of fear and assurance colliding.  He was terrified; there was no denying it.  But whatever they were doing felt natural, right.  He decided to not hold back, to match her intensity.  He moved his mouth from hers and kissed her chin, then down the length of her neck, inhaling the intoxicating fragrance she wore the entire time, before working his way back up to her ear.  He kissed and teased the soft skin of her earlobe.  She let out a sigh of approval and he knew their feelings were mutual.  He returned to her mouth again and felt her arms tighten around him, felt her softness press against him.  Then, just as he contemplated exploring her throat and bare shoulders with his mouth, her cell phone began to sound with her father’s ringtone.

“You’ve got to be
kidding
me,” she groaned as she sat up and retrieved her phone from her purse. “Hello?”

Gabriel could not hear her father’s end of the conversation, only the slight exasperation in her tone.

“Yes, yes, that’s fine Dad,” she said into the receiver.  “Oh and by way, don’t wait up.  I don’t think I’m coming home tonight.”

There was a pause then she said, “Please don’t be disappointed.  Love you, Dad,” and depressed the
end
command on her touch screen.

“Sorry about that,” she apologized.  “My dad, he has such great timing.”

She dropped her phone back in her purse and turned to him.  The thought of her father having any inkling of what was going on before he called and what Gabriel hoped would happen since he’d called was unsettling at best.

“I can’t believe you told him you were spending the night.  How did he take it?”

“Not good.  But better than I ever imagined he would surprisingly enough.  I guess he sees enough girls at his job who are my age, or far younger, and have been around the block a few dozen times.  Don’t get me wrong, he yelled a bit and told me in no uncertain terms that he’s disappointed, but what can he do?”

“So that makes it okay you think?”

“I’m eighteen, and a virgin, Gabriel.  That’s like a record nowadays for a girl my age,” she said jokingly.

“Even still, the last thing I want to do is get on your father’s bad side,” Gabriel admitted and remembered Christopher Martin’s rage at the Kevin incident. And though what would happen between them was not violent and completely consensual, he guessed her father felt a degree of disappointment at her decision, nevertheless.

“Can we forget about my father and get back to where we were before he called?” she asked and tugged on his shirt playfully.

“Sure, no argument here,” he said and leaned in to steal a kiss.

When Melissa stood unexpectedly and walked toward his bedroom, the world went completely still.  Her slender body, sheathed in the thin, delicate material of her dress was backlit by the faint light of his bedroom.  She was a vision.  In her face, he saw his past, his present and a future he hoped she would agree to share with him.  He rose to his feet, crossed the small living room and took her hand.

Sergeant Jack Downing’s Ford pickup truck rumbled along Interstate 8, balking and protesting each time he depressed the accelerator.  The sun had just risen and thick fog still clung to the trees and low-lying areas.  In the distance, the Pine Valley Creek Bridge loomed and seemed to hover precariously above the canyon below, its thin supports completely consumed by the fog.  The Laguna Mountains were shrouded as well, only their peaks transcended the milky miasma and protruded with ominous majesty.  But Jack was unimpressed by mountain ranges, mist and bridges.  He had seen his fill of them during combat.

At twenty-nine years old, United States Army Staff Sergeant Jack Downing had been fighting insurgents in Iraq and Afghanistan for nearly ten years.  As a career soldier during wartime, he had seen dozens of his men killed, two of whom died on his birthday a year earlier, and had personally killed more rebels than he cared to remember.  Now, however, after completing his final tour of duty, he had decided to switch careers and was headed somewhere far different.  He was headed home.  And he could not get there soon enough.