Forbidden Fruit (12 page)

As I drifted to sleep, I found myself in a garden once more. It was the same one as before, but I was in a different area. Surrounded by daisies and tulips, I danced in the expanse of color, twirling mindlessly, filled with radiance and joy. Someone approached from behind, wrapping two muscular arms around me. I laughed, turning to find the one I had been waiting for.

I gasped in surprise. It was Michael.

He held me, smiling as if he hadn’t a care in the world. We were free, right then and there. In the back of my mind, I knew there was some reason we weren’t supposed to be together, but I didn’t care. We were together then, and that’s all that mattered.

He picked me up and spun me around and around, as I giggled uncontrollably. His booming laugh was as genuine and carefree as mine.

We were in love.

And there was something wrong with that.

Suddenly, I was being pulled out of his arms. Forceful hands grabbed my shoulders and yanked me away from him. My heart sank into the pit of my stomach, and I screamed, my arms reaching for him as I was forced back through the forest. My captor ignored my protests and kicking. Before I lost sight of him, I watched Michael sink to his knees in the field of flowers. Utter devastation and heartbreak swam in his sorrowful eyes.

I saw a part of him die.

I watch her sleep again, a favorite past time of mine. She’s fitful in her sleep. No surprise really, as she almost drowned earlier. I watch her toss around, sheets twisted and tangled with her long legs. She wears little to bed. Nothing but a tee and underwear. I would ask her to put on more, but I won’t wake her. I can’t let her know I’m here. Her nearly nude body teases me beyond belief; my addiction to her threatens to end my long sobriety. I’m tempted to let it.

She calls out in her sleep, pleads for help that will never come. I clench my fists at my side, silently pacing the rug in her bedroom. Why am I here? I run my fingers through my hair.

I’m breaking so many rules by being here with her. Why can’t I let her go?

I know I never will, which makes me a tortured soul.

Why can’t I be with her?

It’s forbidden.

The words play through my head, a banner that reminds me of my oath, and my loss. I am a cursed man who forces himself to face heartache every day. What a sad fucking life. If I could end it, I would.

That’s not really true though. I wouldn’t end my miserable existence because that would leave her with no protection. The day will come when someone realizes who and what she is. She will become a target, and I can’t let that happen.

I stop mid stride. I hear her sob. She jerks awake, and I disappear at once.

Outside on the tree branch, I wait for her to fall back asleep. She is sad, her heart breaking from some bad dream. I can’t stand her sadness. I’m the one who bears the torture, not her, never her.

I force sweet dreams into her mind then leave her in peace, only to enter the hell that is my life. The never-ending warfare.

All night I had strange dreams. Happiness and torment alternated themes over and over again. I had no idea why I dreamed them, but Michael was in all of them. It’s strange how one person can bring both pure bliss and heartache.

I rolled out of bed and headed to the shower with a little spring in my step. I was still high from last night’s amazing date. I hoped my relationship history was gearing to set a new record.
Please don’t run away screaming
.

On the way to school, I found myself singing aloud to the radio, something I’ve never done, for fear of breaking the windows in my car. I couldn’t wait to tell Bailey all about last night.

I found my parking space, grabbed my bag, and popped out of the Viper…and right into Michael. “Oh,” I was startled. “Hi,” I breathed, with much more elation than I meant to reveal.

“
Lily,” he returned with his irresistible smile. “Did you have sweet dreams last night?” he asked with a grin.

“
Some of them,” I answered honestly.

A strange expression passed his features, but then he quickly wiped it clean. “May I?” he asked, reaching for my bag.

“
Help yourself.” My bag was a bit loaded, thanks to Mr. Brody.

We walked as a pair through the courtyard, collecting awed expressions from some and pissed-off expressions from others, namely Lacy and Alicia. I tried Michael’s nonchalance tactic of brushing off the attention, and I found I liked it.

The only gawking look I acknowledged was Bailey’s, to which I shot a look that reassured her there would be major dishing later. She gave me a sly thumbs up with a wicked twist of her mouth. No doubt, she thought I would be discussing in graphic detail the make out session that occurred. I had never been able to convince her that I really was a virgin who had never made it past first base. Our last conversation on the subject ended with her saying, “So you like to play the virgin card, I can dig it, lots of guys like that, all pure and innocent.”

We found our seats in Mr. Brody’s class where the ogling was still taking place. Michael ignored the onlookers as he placed my bag by my desk and gave me a wink before he sat down. My face blushed of its own accord. It seemed I could do nothing to control that overt display of how he affected me.

“
Quiet down people,” Mr. Brody complained in his monotone voice. A few moments later, he had to add, “Ladies!” in a rare display of raising his voice.

The noise fell to a few brave whisperers as I prepared to take more notes on material I wasn’t really soaking in. How could I, with a guy like Michael sitting right next to me, staring per usual?

The next two classes were the same. People couldn’t get enough gossip about me and Michael. I even heard some talk of me dropping Jason, followed by excitement that he was now on the market. By fourth period, I had started getting used to the new stardom.

Then, Lacy walked in.

Serious buzz kill. She looked at me with an expression of pure hatred. I think if she had knives she would have thrown them directly at my eyes. Then she would pull them out and start shredding my face, all the while screeching “my precious” in a shrill that would make Gollum envious.

She promptly turned that psychotic look into one of innocent friendliness and directed it toward Michael. “Hi,” she sang, as she plopped her bag down and flipped her blonde hair in my face, the ends whipping across my cheek. I suppressed an uncharacteristic urge to grab a chunk and yank.

Michael gave her a nod. I cringed and hoped he wasn’t blind.

“
I am so worried about this test Friday, aren’t you?” she asked him.

“
Nope,” he said simply.

“
You aren’t? Oh thank god, I’ve been looking for someone with brains to study with!” she laughed, having no idea she just pinned herself as brainless.

He had no comment.

After a very sexy leg crossing that left her foot pressed against his leg, she asked, “So what do you say to you, me, and a little studying Thursday?” She batted her eyes, pulling out all her tricks.

I bit my tongue and held my breath as I waited for him to answer.

He opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by Mr. Garrett calling the class to attention. I gave an inward sigh of relief. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know what his answer was.

I went through the rest of class wondering what the hell I was getting myself into. I wasn’t one for warring over a guy, but then again, I had never had anyone worth warring for. A part of me I had never met wanted to tell Lacy to bring it on.

I endured the rest of the class watching Lacy’s desperate ‘notice me’ tactics directed at the new object of my every thought. But as the bell rang for lunch, I beat her to the punch. I knew it was a dangerous game to play with her and possibly social suicide, but I couldn’t help myself.

“
Hey,” I got Michael’s attention right as she turned toward him.

He smiled widely at me, surprise on his face. Did I sound desperate?

“
Wanna eat lunch with us?” I asked. His smile spread further in reply. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lacy snatch up her bag in a furious little tornado, blonde hair quickly whipping out of the room, plowing through her minions.

I found Bailey at our usual table as I walked over with Michael in tow. She beamed when she saw me. I could tell she was barely holding it together, she needed details and she needed them soon.

“
This is my bestie, Bailey,” I motioned to her and Michael shook her hand formally.

She giggled in response. “Well, how do you do?” she mocked.

“
Bailey, this is Michael,” I continued. She gave me a crazy, wide-eyed look and turned to Eric, “We’ll be back.” There was no invitation for any of the boys to follow.

“
Save me a seat?” I asked Michael. He nodded with an easy smile and set my bag he had been carrying into the seat beside Bailey’s.

“
Oh. My. God,” Bailey said as soon as we were out of earshot. “When did this happen and how. Details here, I’m dying!” she pleaded, her grip on my arm like a vice.

I laughed. “Just last night. Well, yesterday actually.”

“
Wait, I was here all day yesterday, and I only saw him being smothered to death by Lacy’s crew.” She recalled.

“
I know, I know. But then in art class yesterday, he asked me to have dinner with him.”

“
A gentleman, I like,” she cooed.

“
Yeah, so he picked me up and took me to a little place on Folly Beach, and then we went for a walk on the pier.” I could feel my cheeks burn with the grin I had carried since last night.

“
And…” she prompted.

“
And then, I fell,” I scrunched my forehead remembering the confusing fiasco of the reason I fell. I hadn’t even though about it in light of everything ‘Michael’ today. The guy seriously fogged my wits.

“
Wait, what? You fell? You mean like fell in love, on the first date?” she asked incredulously.

“
No, I fell off the pier,” I shook my head at her, “And almost drowned!”

“
Oh god! Wait…don’t tell me, he saved you?” she looked like she had died and gone to heaven at the thought.

I smiled at her and said, “Keep it down, we have half the school trying to listen to our conversation.”

“
Oh who cares!” she said with a wave of her hand.

“
About you? No one,” Lacy said as she walked up to us.

I cut my eyes at her. I could take plenty for myself, but I didn’t let anyone treat Bailey like that.

Lacy turned that evil look I had so recently become accustomed to on me and said, “I guess you think your something special now, don’t you? So, the new guy thinks you’re an easy lay. So what, big deal! Every guy likes to run through a few easy ones before they settle down with a worthy one.”

Ouch.

Then she leaned in closer and said, “Stay out of my way. You don’t want to fuck with me.” The threat was real. I had no doubt Lacy would do anything to get what she wanted.

Out of nowhere, Bailey surprised me with, “Why would he want something that everyone has already had?”

Kudos to Bailey. I would have to give her props for that one later.

Lacy turned a rare shade of red, “No one was talking to you, dumpster diver! How’s my leftovers?”

Right before Bailey did something she would be suspended for, I took over. “Actually, no one was talking to you as I recall. Not even when you so desperately threw yourself all over them,” I said with an obnoxiously sweet smile.

She sneered and said, “This isn’t over.” And with one more slice of blonde hair to my face, she walked away.

“
And here starts World War III,” I sighed.

“
Let the battle begin,” Bailey challenged, following Lacy’s back with slitted eyes.

We got our food and tried to pretend everything was fine when we sat down with the guys. Bailey had more trouble with the act, still visibly livid. I was sure her mind was rehashing the comment about Eric being Lacy’s leftovers.

Michael seemed to notice something wasn’t right the moment we sat down. He reached over and touched my arm, “Everything okay?”

I nodded and stuffed a piece of my sandwich in my mouth as a distraction from that penetrating, knowing look he had. Sometimes I got the impression he could read my thoughts.

He dropped it and turned back toward the others. I was glad to see how easily Eric and his buddies accepted Michael. I was worried about leaving him with them, considering yesterday he was that ‘annoying new guy’ all the girls were panting over. I guess they were cool with him just hanging around me.

Sitting so close to Michael was distracting. I went through the motions of the conversation around me without taking my mind off of him. I couldn’t concentrate when he was near. It was like my mind was automatically tuned into him, and I couldn’t change the channel. Not that I wanted to.

Art class was the same. I couldn’t put anything of value into my painting, and the little bit I did only took away from the picture. Michael seemed to do more staring over at me than painting so I teased, “You better start painting before Ms. Wood catches you slacking.”