Instinct told me to pul back and I started to apologize, but Michael grabbed hold of me. Just like that, the intensity heightened. His kisses became more and more demanding, and I found myself swept away by his ardor and my own. My pain did nothing to lessen my desire. The feeling was so new . . . but the rush felt almost familiar. Like I was in one of my nightly dreams, flying high above the town below.
Panting, Michael broke away first. We looked into each other’s pale, pale eyes, and I saw a hunger in his matched only by my own. I never knew that kissing could be like this. Not even from the movies.
“I think we should stop,” he said.
I’d never dreamed of feeling so much, so quickly. I didn’t want it to stop. As if in a dream, I said, “No, I don’t want to.” And I reached for him.
“Yes, El ie.” He placed his hand on mine to keep me at bay.
Stil , I wanted more. “Please, Michael.” I pressed forward, against the pressure of his hand.
He pushed me back into my seat. Gently, but it was enough to break the spel .
What on earth had come over me? I was mortified at my aggressive behavior, and embarrassed by his rejection. I recoiled into the far corner of my seat, as far away from his spurning as I could get. But it wasn’t far enough. More than anything in the world, I wanted out of that car.
As I reached for the door handle, he grabbed my hand. “El ie, please believe me when I say that I’m stopping only because we are meant to be together. And this is just the beginning.”
I tried to wrench free of his grip. “Don’t bother letting me down easy, Michael. I may be inexperienced, but I wasn’t born yesterday.”
Michael locked his hands around mine. “Please, El ie.”
I met his gaze as if I understood—and agreed with—his excuses. But I nodded only so he would release my hands. Once free, I opened the door and ran from the car. From him.
Chapter Nine
I tossed and turned for hours after our date. I was restless, both mental y and physical y. My mind raced with replays of our evening together, while my body was plagued by a longing for Michael that even memories of his pushing me away couldn’t shake.
When I final y fel asleep sometime near dawn, I sunk back into my recurring dream. It started out on its normal course; I flew out of my bedroom window and into town. I made my usual pause at the vil age green and town church before heading out to the sea.
Before I could reach the rocky cliffs bordering the ocean, I noticed a clear blue light coming from a house near the beach—a serious departure from my dream’s customary path. It was the only visible il umination in the otherwise black landscape. Somehow my body knew precisely how to perform, and I streamlined my limbs to gain speed.
Within seconds, I neared the street and circled the perimeter of the house. I noted a few lit lamps in the empty family room and kitchen, but this was not the il umination I sought. Although the rest of the house seemed dark, I soon realized that the blue light came from an upstairs bedroom—
Michael’s bedroom.
Michael sat at his desk, staring out at the sea. I couldn’t see the source of the blue light, so I flew close to his window. He looked so handsome and contemplative that I wanted to touch him. Even though he didn’t see me, I reached out my hand for him. But then the wind kicked up and begged for my attention. I watched as it whipped through the copse of apple trees in Michael’s backyard, violently rustling the branches and late summer leaves.
For a moment, I left Michael behind, and fol owed my undeniable compulsion to rise. My head tilted upward toward the sky, and my shoulders broadened as if I had wings unfurling. My eyes closed as the wind swept me into its arms, and the sky tugged me gently toward the heavens. I surrendered to the joyous feeling of flight and freedom.
But then my body lurched downward, tangling me in the apple trees. I looked down, expecting to see hands clutched at my ankles or sinuous branches wrapped around my calves. But there was nothing. Nothing except the earth keeping its hold.
* * *
The next thing I remembered was the phone ringing. I sat up with a start, surprised to see bright sunlight streaming through the slats of my window shades. What time was it? I groped for my clock, and couldn’t believe it was almost ten o’clock. I never slept this late, even on the weekends. I just wasn’t wired for it.
As I grabbed my things for the shower, I noticed the cal er ID alert on my cel phone. I checked and saw that I had messages from Ruth and Michael. I could guess what Ruth was dying to talk about, but what did Michael want? To offer his sugarcoated excuses again? I didn’t think I could face either one just yet.
Instead, I made my way down the hal to my bathroom. I hoped a long, hot shower would help wash away some of the dream and the thoughts of Michael that started to creep back into my consciousness. After I dried my face and moved on to the thicket of my hair, I heard my mom cal from downstairs.
“El ie? El ie, honey, are you up?”
I cracked open the bathroom door, and cal ed back, “Yes, Mom.”
“Good, we need to leave in fifteen minutes.” Although my parents weren’t sticklers for church every Sunday morning, they did insist that we serve at a local soup kitchen on Sundays. They believed God was best worshipped by action, not words.
“I’l be ready.”
So, there would be no long, hot shower this morning. But maybe a morning at the soup kitchen was exactly what I needed. Hard reality would wipe Michael right out of my head.
I raced to get ready, but my brush kept getting stuck in a particularly dense knot in the back. I tried to separate out the tethered strands one by one with a comb. When the knot refused to budge, I realized that something was holding the hairs together. Final y, I shook the object free to the floor and bent down to pick it up. It was a single leaf from an apple tree.
I lifted the leaf up to the bathroom light to be absolutely certain. There was no denying what it was. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been anywhere near an apple tree. Except in my dream. Last night.
Chapter Ten
I successful y avoided Michael on Monday and Tuesday. He tried to get my attention as I left a few classes, but I feigned obliviousness. I did not want to relive the humiliation of our date, and my raw need for him toward the end. In the light of day, walking around school, it was hard to believe I’d actual y acted that way. Just to be safe, I kept Ruth by my side as a shield. She thought I was making too big a deal out of it, even after she heard what happened, but she supported me. As always.
By Wednesday, I didn’t see Michael waiting anywhere. At first, I experienced overwhelming relief that I could stop the playacting. But as the day progressed, I couldn’t help but feel disappointed. Even though I was stil cringing over my actions and Michael’s response, I was drawn to him.
Fol owing an after-school meeting on Wednesday, I walked to the town library by myself. Ruth’s yearbook meeting was running even later, so she couldn’t drive me. And truth be told, I looked forward to the short strol in the crisp autumn air—alone. I needed some solitude to clear my mind of the al -encompassing thoughts of Michael and refocus on my neglected schoolwork.
I rounded a lazy bend in the road and spied the library a few blocks off. The library was a marble and granite confection from the eighteen hundreds, when the prominent mil inery families stil had money to spend on Til inghast, and its founders had spared no expense on an entry staircase worthy of the building’s grandeur. I was just about to walk up its imposing steps when I spotted Michael’s car idling in the no parking zone in front of the library. Did he know I was coming?
Quickly starting up the stairs, I kept my head down. I reached out for the huge brass door to pul it open. I began to let out a sigh of relief, when I felt a hand on my upper arm.