Though there was a beautiful familiarity to the colors around the people I cared about, they didn’t understand that my world wasn’t the same since this had started. No one could hide their true colors from me.
And they didn’t know I was now terrified of something—or someone—I couldn’t name.
After school, I slung my messenger bag across my shoulders and walked toward the Santa Cruz Parks and Rec Center, where I volunteered at the Boys & Girls Club. Rain threatened. For the millionth time, I wished my dad would let me get my driver’s license. But apparently, the world gets bigger with wheels underneath you, and Dad liked my world nice and small. He’d kill me and Mari both if he knew that on Tuesdays—her day to get the car that she shared with her brothers—she’d been secretly teaching me how to drive.
Each palm tree lining the street rustled like crisp paper in the wind. Overhead, the slate sky growled, and I felt a drop peck my cheek, followed by five more in quick succession. I walked faster.
My neck bristled with the sensation of eyes on my back. I looked over my shoulder and spotted a tall man about a block away walking briskly behind me. He wore a black woolen cap and a gray leather jacket. Longish blond hair stuck out in tufts from under the cap. There was something familiar about his lanky build, about the way he stared. That’s when I recalled the chilling sensation of falling out of myself in his presence. Like being sucked into a tornado and spit back out.
For every step I took, he seemed to take three. The gap between us narrowed, and his aura—pure white—flared between us. Internal alarms I didn’t know I possessed blared at me. My quick steps beat in time with my heart.
The rain intensified, splattering the contents of my bag as I dug out my umbrella. I wouldn’t open it. I wanted a weapon, and the umbrella was more useful closed. The man drew even closer. I ran.
Next to me, a car honked. I jumped, pointing the umbrella defensively at a classic powder-blue Mustang. Finn leaned across the passenger seat and rolled down his window. “Do you want a ride?”
I glanced back. The man now walked in the opposite direction, having abruptly switched course. I resented the fear pulsing through my body. When I most wanted to break free from the sheltering of my childhood, someone made me want to run to the safety of my father’s arms. I felt exposed and vulnerable. Had he followed me from school? I looked back at the handsome boy in the car, opened the door, and slid in. “Thanks,” I said. “You have good timing. Honestly, I’m pretty sure I was being followed.”
Finn looked through the back window streaked with rain. “I don’t see anyone back there, but I don’t like the sound of that.” I liked the way his lips pursed together in worry.
“Sorry, I, uh, I’m getting your car all wet.”
Finn pointed at himself. “Irish. Rain doesn’t faze me much, but I prefer to enjoy it from inside.” He looked me over. “The rain is lovely on you. Though you might try opening that umbrella next time.”
“I thought it’d be more valuable as a spear.”
His eyes roamed from my face to my hair, which must’ve resembled the twisted strands of a mop. We did that thing again, where we looked in each other’s eyes a fraction longer than was considered comfortable in polite society. Or maybe it wasn’t that the look was longer. It was deeper. His greedy stare settled on my wet lips, and I finally looked away.
“I’m Irish, too,” I told him in an unnaturally high voice as he pulled into traffic.
“Yeah? Seems everyone has a bit-o-the-Irish in ’em here. Maybe it’s because we tend to leave when things go really wrong on our island.”
“No. I mean my mother was from Ireland.”
“No shite?”
“Truly. Lock, stock, and shamrock. I was born there.”
Finn gave me a surprised look, which kind of pleased me. “Were you now? I believe ya. You’re quite fair. From what county?”
“Kildare. I don’t remember it. I was five when we left.”
“My family is from County Meath, north of Kildare,” he said with a twinge of excitement. “But there is something else about you.” He reached up and gently teased a wet strand of my black hair through his fingers. “Something…striking. A little bit exotic.” He looked at me again below his dark lashes, sending bubbles streaming through my body.
“South American. My father was born in Chile.”
“Why did your family leave Ireland?”
My jaw went rigid. “Things went really wrong.”
Finn didn’t press, which I appreciated. I pointed the way to the rec center. He slowed in the empty parking lot, and I opened the door before the car fully stopped, my foot hovering over the asphalt whizzing by. “Thanks for the lift.”
“I thought you were going to stop the car like a superhero,” Finn teased, then cut the engine. He gestured to the rec center. “What are you about in there?”
I rubbed my hands together to warm them and maybe dispel a bit of jittery energy. “I volunteer. We help out the kids who are kind of on their own.”
His eyebrows rose. “You mean they have no family? Orphans?”
“No. Most of them have at least one parent. I empathize with the kids who are looking for the whole sandwich and only get the crust, you know?”
“Do you mind if I tag along? I’d like to see what you do.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” I said with a dismissive wave.
“Yes,” he said, opening his car door. “I would.”
I got out and crossed my arms. “Why? What is up with you?”
“What kind of foreign policy is it not to show a visitor your customs and culture?” Finn laughed, which sparked some irritation in me. I wanted to walk away, but his gravity pulled me out of my own tight orbit.
He raked his hands through his wild hair, the kind of hair that wanted to be messed. Why was I suddenly imagining leaving rows in it with my fingers? My hands clenched. I turned and began to walk toward the building.
“Cora.”
I paused. My name falling from his lips was exquisite, but sad, too. It sparked a rogue memory of my mother’s Irish accent calling to me.
“Is it so hard to believe someone would be curious about you? Want to spend a little bit of time with you?”
Yes.
I turned around. “No. It’s hard to believe that you do.”
Quickly, Finn closed the gap between us. His breath formed small clouds of steam in the rain. The warmth of it touched my face.
“You’re in my personal space,” I said weakly.
We fell into each other’s gazes again. A drop of rain landed on my head. His cheekbone. My nose. His beautiful mouth. He wasn’t touching me, but it felt like he was. Every nerve responded to him. His spiced scent. His colors. They reached out and caressed me.
“Let me be around you, Cora. It’s all I seem to want since we spoke in the hospital, so let me.” Despite the determined set of his jaw, his eyes looked lost, bewildered. As if he didn’t understand himself what he was doing standing there in the rain with me.
I blew out an exasperated puff and tramped toward the building. “Suit yourself. But,” I called over my shoulder, “for every hour you spend with me, you have to answer a question about Ireland.”
The double doors opened to a gymnasium full of children. Tennis shoes squeaked on the glossy wooden floor. The center had the dank smell of used equipment, kid sweat, and something vaguely food related. I could feel Finn’s smile on my back. He slid onto a bench, watching me while I signed in.