"Definitely." Alex spotted another gummy marshmallow and reached for it. Isabel pressed her hand over his, stopping him. Alex stared at their hands as if they were completely riveting.
"I was wrong about Liz," Isabel said, focused on their hands as well. "After Max healed her, I was sure she'd betray him, betray all of us. But she didn't. Whatever the opposite of betray is, that's what she did," Isabel added. "You and Maria, too. I was so wrong about all of you."
"I, on the other hand, knew you were a goddess the moment I first saw you," Alex said, slowly pulling his hand away. "And I wasn't wrong." He smiled sheepishly at her, then looked away.
Isabel snorted and started picking at her nails. "Have you had some kind of seizure recently?" she asked. "Something that might have caused massive memory loss? How could you possibly still have me on a pedestal after everything I've done to you?"
Like breaking up with him with all the finesse of a meat cleaver. Like pushing him away when he tried to warn her how dangerous Nikolas was. Like so, so many times just not appreciating him enough-acting like anything he did for her was simply what she deserved.
"Who said anything about a pedestal?" Alex asked. "I'm talking goddess like Greek mythology. Goddesses who were more beautiful than any mortal." He gave a grin that was half embarrassed. "But who were also strong and smart and who would do things like turn men into ashes if they felt like it."
"And that's me?" Isabel asked, not totally hating the description.
"That's you, baby," Alex said. His words were teasing, but his tone wasn't. He really meant it. He thought she was a goddess.
Isabel tilted her head and looked at him, really looked at him.
"Do I have something in my teeth?" Alex asked. He started using his finger as a toothbrush.
"No, I was just trying to decide what you are," Isabel admitted. "If I'm a goddess, then you're… you're like one of the guys out of a fairy tale."
"I don't think I'm liking where this is going," Alex said, sitting up straight in his chair. "You're a goddess, and I'm, what? Hansel?"
"Sort of. You're…" She hesitated a moment, trying to come up with the right word. "You're resourceful. Like when the witch wanted to see if Hansel was fattened up enough to eat and he kept letting her feel the chicken bone instead of his finger-that's something you would do. You think fast."
"But Hansel," Alex scoffed, throwing out his hands. "Just the name. Hansel! How lame."
Isabel shook her head and laughed. It sounded odd, but good. "Forget Hansel. Forget fairy tales. How about Superman?" Alex brightened at this suggestion, and she grinned. "You're a good guy like he is. And you have that sort of geeky-yet-cute exterior-well, until lately, when you became a stud. Plus in the right situation you can kick some major butt."
Alex rocked his chair back on two legs. "Superman. I like it." For one second everything was fine. Then Alex glanced over his shoulder, Isabel followed his eyes, and she remembered what was going on. The smile fell from her face as Alex let the chair legs fall back to the floor with a thud.
"Think I should check on Liz?" he said.
"It's still quiet back there," Isabel answered. "Let's give her another couple of minutes. If Max-if the consciousness-bought our story, she should be safe."
"I wonder how the B team is doing," Alex said. He reached across the table, going for the marshmallow rocket again.
"Me too," Isabel agreed, letting him eat the repulsive thing without comment. Sometimes Alex just had to be Alex. And that, at least most of the time, was a very good thing.
"It sucks being the lovely assistant," Maria muttered as she maneuvered Michael's big old Caddy onto Main Street. "Trevor and Michael are off… someplace, probably someplace really cool. And did they even think about inviting me? Oh no. No, no. I get to drive the car back home."
She slowed down as she passed the UFO museum. She could just drop the Cadillac there and save Michael a trip. Buses ran pretty often at this time of night, so it wouldn't be too much of a pain.
But that wasn't going to happen. Maria pressed her foot on the accelerator and sped around the corner. Michael had said he'd pick up the car, and that's what he'd have to do. And if she just happened to see him through the window when he came to get it, and then just happened to wander outside, and then just happened to throw herself on the hood of the car and scream, "Kiss me, you wild Michael beast," and then just…
And then just happened to watch Michael run like he was training for the Olympics, she thought, rolling her eyes. Which was obviously what he would do.
Maria tried to keep her mind on the road the rest of the way home. She only ended up driving by Braille a couple of times. That's what her brother, Kevin, called it when she let the car wander a little too far to the left and started going over the little bumps marking the white divider lane-driving by Braille.
It took only two tries for her to pull the boat of a car into the driveway. Two tries and one slightly dented antenna. Hey, if Michael had a problem with it, he could do the driving himself.
Maria cut the engine and reached for the door handle, then hesitated. Being in the car was sort of like being a little tiny doll or an elf and living inside Michael's pocket. The interior actually smelled like him-all spicy-musky, with a hint of sweet-and-spicy that came from the number of crullers with hot sauce he'd consumed sitting right where Maria was now. She pulled in a deep breath and let it out with a long, content sigh.
"I have so lost it," she whispered. But she didn't get out of the car. She leaned her head back against the seat and took another breath, savoring the smell, then clicked on the radio and did a pass through the stations Michael had programmed in. She smiled when she caught a snatch of an Elvis tune. She was sure Michael had chosen that station in honor of Ray Iburg, who'd given Michael the car. Any station that played the King would have been fine by Ray.
She punched the buttons again until she found a song that matched her mood, kind of slow and sad and dreamy. She closed her eyes and let herself drift into la-la-la land, which was what she called the place in her head that was in charge of producing fantasies. That little corner of her mind was fully stocked with images of Michael. Maria picked one-Michael in a soft gray T-shirt that matched his eyes-and began to dance with it, breathing in the Michael scent, trying to make the fantasy a little more real.
"Wow." Trevor watched the waves roll into the shore again and again. Michael watched him watch, then returned his own gaze to the ocean.
"Before I hid the Stones out here, I'd been to the beach only once before, with the Evanses," Michael said. "Totally blew me away. One of the best times ever."
"I can imagine," Trevor answered, never taking his eyes from the water. "Can we go in?"
"We'd freeze," Michael replied. For the last fifteen minutes he'd been sitting here, trying to play it cool and not pull his jacket tighter around himself to fight off the wind. "If we had wet suits, we'd be okay, but-"
Trevor turned to look at Michael, and he was grinning. "We have something better," he said, pulling one of the Stones out of his pocket.
Michael smiled. He yanked off his jacket and was out of his shirt in seconds. "What are we waiting for?" he said as he shoved off his sneakers without bothering to untie them. "Last one in is a rotten egg!"