Dying to Remember (The Station #2) (8 page)

As he pulls
his lips away, I open my eyes to see that his are still closed. I watch each
feathery black lash until they flutter and part, displaying the deep ocean-blue
of his irises. Studying his face, I wonder if my lips are just as flushed as
his are.

We both say,
"Wow" at the same time. And when we laugh, we share the air between
our mouths, which quiver only an inch or so from each other still. Breathing
heavily, I blink up at Sloan, realizing I've somehow met the wall with my back.
With my right hand fisted tightly in his shirt, I have pulled the collar of the
soft material down enough to see the fine hairs just below his collar bone.
Slowly I open my hand, splaying my fingers across his chest as one of his arms
tightens around my waist. I wasn't even aware he was holding me until I feel
his fingers dig into my hip. The sweet and sour smell of grapefruit fills the
air around us as I struggle to regulate my breathing.

Finding
comfort in the cool wall, I lean against it for support. Sloan closes the gap
between us by lightly touching his lips to mine; not quite a kiss, more like a
promise of a future one, before he leans back slightly and runs his free hand
through my hair. He's twisting it slowly around his fingers when a door opens
behind him.

"Gosh,
I'm sorry to interrupt," says the elderly man that exits one of the two
departure rooms. Even though he smiles, we break apart and step away from one
another like we were caught making out by the school principal.

Sloan coughs
nervously and lifts a hand at the volunteer while I clamp my mouth shut with my
teeth to keep from giggling out loud. After the man removes his assignment card
from the massive wall on the other side of the room, he gives us a quick nod
before making a haste escape.

"Busted,"
Sloan says quietly before returning to my side.

I let the
giggle out and smile up at him, "Yeah, busted is right."

"Are we
in trouble now?" he asks me quietly as he leans a hand against the wall,
effectively trapping me.

"If we
are, I don't really care," I breathe.

"God, I
was hoping you'd say that," he says teasingly against my ear. As his mouth
moves along my jaw, finding its way back to my lips, a light flashes in between
us.

"What's
that?" he asks as he looks down at my chest.

My pendant is
glowing.
What?! Absolute worst timing, EVER!

"I…I
have a case," I stammer, wishing his mouth was still against mine.

"Oh."
He pulls away to get a better look at the necklace and the light that pulsates
from it. "Can I touch it?" he asks softly.

"Of
course, it won't hurt you," I answer with a laugh.

He fingers
the glass delicately, rolling it around in his palm. "How does it do
that?"

"I
honestly have no idea. The first time it went off I thought I was on
fire," I answer with a smile.

"Can you
turn it off?"

"No, I
can't. As soon as I return it, it will just shut off on its own."

"Like
magic," he says softly.

"Yeah,
like magic."

"So you
have to go now, on a case?" His eyes devour mine as he waits for my
answer.

"Yes."

"That's
rotten timing," he says with a laugh.

"I was
just thinking that," I giggle, "Come on, I'll show you what to do
next."

He pushes off
the wall reluctantly, allowing me to squeeze by him. Our thighs brush against
each other and the soft denim of his worn jeans against my exposed skin catches
my breath. The room seems to shrink around me as one of his hands slides down
my arm until our palms meet. He casually interlocks our fingers, firmly
securing himself to me as we leave the Depot room.
I can't believe this. I'm
holding hands with Sloan Nash.

***

It's not
until we enter the busy main room again and see Niles talking to Carlson that
Sloan gradually releases my hand. I miss the contact immediately, but don't
have long to dwell on it before Carlson shoots an unfriendly look in our
direction and scurries over to us, of course with his ever-present clipboard
held tightly to his chest.

"Sloan.
I've been looking all over for you, but I see you weren't alone," Carlson
glares at me then blinks in confusion when I smile sweetly back.

"Piper
showed me the Depot room, Carlson. Don't worry, I was in good hands." He
elbows me just discreetly enough for me to feel, but Carlson doesn't seem to
notice and I struggle to hold the laugh in.

"Well,
good, good. I guess. So, you are leaving on Assignment now, I see?"
Carlson gestures to my lit necklace with a more relaxed expression.
No doubt
glad that I'm leaving, I'm sure.

"Mmhmm.
Was just going to show Sloan how it works," I reply.

"Ahh,
well, there's no need for that. I'll take over now," Carlson say's
snidely. He points at Sloan and I look over to see his own necklace aglow.

"Sloan -
look," I say quietly.

"Oh,
wow." Sloan looks down at the crystal glass piece with wonder that quickly
turns to panic. "Crap, now what? What if I'm not ready?"

"We'll
go together, at the same time. There are two doors…we can do that, can't we
Niles?" I aim the question at him as he walks up beside me.

"It's
done all the time," he says.

"Okay,
let's go get your first assignment card, Sloan."

His hand
slips back into mine as we make our way across the room and I can't help my
face-splitting grin because Carlson and Niles are behind us. Surely they must
have noticed. Not to mention, there are at least one hundred other people
milling around this room and now they've seen it too.
Me and Sloan; how'd
this happen, exactly?

We stand two
feet apart, gazing up with awe at the glistening glass cards that fill the wall
from top to bottom. With various hues of grey and black, the wall looks like a
dark mural waiting for someone to climb it. I've been tempted to do just that
before, remembering the first time I saw this room; I thought the glass cards
stuck out like the holds of a giant rock climbing wall.

"This is
it. Just pick a slot," I say softly to Sloan.

He steps
forward and carefully slides his glass card into an open space just above his
head and then steps back, watching me do the same, choosing the same slot I've
used since my first case. It was also Niles' first slot. It gives me comfort to
use it and somehow I've been lucky enough on all three of my cases to find it
available.

When I'm
done, we wait for the doors to open and the swish sound makes Sloan jump
slightly. Smiling over at him, I'm aware of the jumbled feelings he must have
in his mind, for I had them too not that long ago.

"Ready?"
I ask.

Sloan laughs
before smirking at me, "No, not really. You in a hurry to get rid of
me?"

"No, not
really," I copy his answer as I walk him toward his open door. The room is
dark, which isn't inviting for someone's first time.

"So, I
just stand in there?"

"Yep.
And remember what I said, you'll feel some sort of sensation spread through
your body as the transition happens."

Just before
he crosses the threshold into the closet-sized room he spins and wraps his arms
around my body, holding me tightly to his chest. I hug him back, inhaling the
fresh smell of him, enjoying the warm feel of his body as it penetrates my
clothes, and when he pulls away I sway toward him.

"See ya
when I get back," he says with a wink.

"Can't
wait," I respond, nearly out of breath.
Please kiss me goodbye, please.

His hands
slowly slide down my bare arms, stopping at my wrists. For a moment we just
stand there, looking at each other, and it's not until I make a move to turn
away that he leans in and brushes his lips softly against mine.
Wow.

"
Good
luck,
" he whispers before turning and walking into his room.

"
You
too,
" I whisper back.

As he
disappears into the darkness, the door swishes closed, swallowing him whole.
It's like losing him all over again. Even though I know the feeling is
ridiculous because
this
time I'm going to see him again. Knowing that
puts a smile on my face as I go into my own dark hole. I'm almost able to block
out the pinching when it starts. Almost.
Crap, I will never get used to
this, will I?

***

When my
tunnel vision has cleared, a beautiful sky filled with puffy white clouds
filters through a pine tree canopy above me. The angle is confusing at first,
as if I'm in a kaleidoscope with the world tilting and turning around me
slowly. And then it comes to a stop long enough for me to get my bearings and
realize my assignment is spinning on a tire swing. I can see we are in some
sort of wooded area, but nothing about our surroundings is familiar. Wherever
we are, the weather is perfect, that I know for sure.

The girl
whose mind I inhabit wears a flowy sundress with a tiny floral pattern, along
with a pair of canvas slip-on shoes. And she has long hair; so long that the
breeze keeps blowing it across her face with each revolution on the tire swing,
showing off the shine from the wavy, straw-colored hair. Her limbs are slender,
her knees a little knobby, but she has lovely hands. These I can see every time
she looks up the swing chain to glance at the sky.

"I
thought I might find you here," says a low male voice from behind us.

We stop
spinning and she turns to glance over her shoulder, greeting the boy that
stands in the grass with an almost dismissive wave of her hand.

"Mmm."
It's more of a sound than a word, but she straightens herself up long enough
for me to get a level view of what's around us. And it's a glorious view. Pine
trees dot the horizon as far as I can see, with large patches of meticulously
groomed grass the color of fresh lime in the distance, filling in the gaps
along the ground with a wavy pattern.
A golf course?
At first I think we
are in a park of some sort, obviously at high elevation. But the boy says
something that brings the feeling of 'home' into my Assignment's head.

"I
knocked on the door, but no one answered, so I figured you'd be out here
somewhere," he says as he sits down on a low rock wall about ten feet
away. He's wearing dark-washed jeans and an open plaid shirt, showing off the
bright-white of his t-shirt underneath. He appears to be about my age, but his
voice is low and very manly. "Aren't you going to talk to me?"

She glances
over at him long enough for me to see that his eyes are a dark brown, matching
the color of his short hair. His face is a handsome one for his young age, but
something heavy hides behind his gaze. It makes him seem mature and…dark.

"Talk?
We already did that, remember?" She sighs into the mountain air and spins
again on the swing, leaning back until her body is horizontal. Her hair drags
along the ground, moving pieces of dried up pine needles and dead leaves.

"Jess,
you know what I mean. We need to talk about it; about what you said."

Jess. Nice
to meet you, Jess.

She sits up
then and stares hard at him. I can feel emotions building up from inside of
her, jumbled together into a messy ball that seems to endlessly bounce from one
side of her brain to the other. I can't catch hold of that ball for the life of
me.

"It's
my
body. That's what
I
said. You are obviously using
your
body the
way
you
want. I can't do the same?" Her words cut through the
peaceful quiet with enough force to silence the birds high above us.

The boy
frowns before standing and crossing his arms at his chest. "If you do
this, it's murder. And I'll tell your parents," he says. His tone is
sharp; his brown eyes darkening like charred wood.

She moves
slowly and deliberately off the swing, straightening her dress with one gentle
tug and closes the space between them in a few strides. She seems about six
inches shorter than he is and maybe one third his weight. Up closer I can
clearly see the defined muscles of his arms and chest beneath his clothes. He's
obviously a high school jock of some kind. I don't like him. With a sudden
shove of her hand, she pushes him backwards hard enough for him to flail for
balance. When he regains it, the anger in his eyes is palpable.

"What
the hell did you do that for?" he snarls.

"If you
had kept it in your pants while we were together, you'd have a say in this. But
you didn't, you had to sample half of Flagstaff, and then I got a piece of your
cheating ass growing inside me. And I won't keep it, I won't keep a part of you
anywhere near me, Chris," she says.

Flagstaff?
As in…Arizona? And wait…oh. She's pregnant?

"But you
can't do this, Jess!" he wails.

"It's
already been done, Chris."

Or, she
was
pregnant.

He inhales
sharply before speaking, "You didn't. You wouldn't do that to me."

She spins
away from him and snaps, "Like I said - it's already been done. Why do you
think I avoided you all week?" I can't see him anymore, but I feel his
hand on her skin as he yanks her backwards, pulling on her arm hard enough to
hurt, pulling until her back slams against his chest.

With his arm
now around her throat and his other hand fisted in her hair, he growls into her
ear, "Stupid whore. You'll regret this, just watch."

"Let
go!" she screams.

This has gone
from a pleasant swing ride to an abusive ex-boyfriend so fast that I'm not sure
how to respond at first. But then my instincts and my training kick in.

Use your
nails, use your elbows, use your feet…use whatever you can to get away from
him!