Reborn (12 page)

Chapter 17

“So
she’s here to finish me off again,” I realize. Jasper turns and strides toward
the edge of the roof. I follow him, my steps careful and less assured than his.
“Where are you going?”

“Jasper!”
My shriek pierces the peaceful night as I watch him leap over the side.

I
hear the clang of metal. He looks up at me, his feet planted firmly on the fire
escape. He holds out a hand to me.

“Come
on,” he says, but I shake my head. “You don’t have to jump like I did. Use your
wings to...flutter down to me.” His verb choice makes him grin.

“I
can’t.”

“Of
course you can!”

“No,
really—I can’t,” I insist. “I’ve tried before.” It’s true, although I’m not
sure trying only once really counts as a concerted effort. I didn’t think
they’d be powerful enough, but I did it anyway: climbed to the lowest branch of
the maple tree in our backyard and jumped, but my wings couldn’t carry me.
Instead of landing gracefully like Jasper did only minutes ago, I hit the
ground and broke my leg. That would have been the perfect time to have their super-platelets,
or whatever allows their bodies to heal so quickly.

“Try
it
now
,” he urges me. “If you start to fall, I’ll catch you. Trust me.”

Still,
I hesitate, silently gauging the distance between the roof and the stairs. It’s
not a far drop. I flex my wings, feeling the muscles in my shoulders and back
bunch up, then relax. They do feel stronger, somehow. I continue pumping them
and feel my feet leave the rough rooftop. I can’t believe I’m doing it—I’m fluttering
down to the top landing of the fire escape.

“I
did it,” I gasp, the metal ringing as I make impact.

Jasper
looks satisfied, “I told you so” scrawled across his features, but he doesn’t
say it. He simply unlocks a heavy-looking door, white chips speckling its dark
green paint, and tugs it open to reveal faded plum carpeting and a corridor of
wooden doors with brass apartment numbers. I duck under his arm as he keeps the
door propped open for me. His footsteps plod behind me over the plush carpet, and
the door thumps closed. We walk until we reach unit 6C.

“I
still can’t believe it. It’s just there’s never seemed to be any point to my
wings,” I babble excitedly as Jasper opens the door to his apartment, “except
to be pretty and shiny and pop out whenever I’m scared, angry or turned…on.” I
drop my voice at the end. I didn’t intend to mention
that
part.

“That’s
normal.” When I look doubtful, he says, “They’re in part a defense mechanism.
They may not be as powerful as mine, but they give you some advantage over an
opponent and can get you out of a stressful situation quickly.” He drops his
keys in a porcelain dish on top of the hexagonal, maple wood table right inside
the door.

“I
don’t know. I feel like I can only barely control them most of the time. Is
that
normal?”

Jasper
tilts his head to one side, considering this. “That may be hormonal.”

“Because
I’m a
girl
?” I squeak the last word in offense.

“Not
where I was going with that,” he assures me. “I was thinking more because you
were in puberty when I gave them to you. It’ll be easier and easier to control
them as you get older.”

I
purse my lips, nodding. “Okay. So what’s the other part?”

“What
other part?”

“You
said they’re partly a defense mechanism. That makes it sound like they have
another purpose.”

“They’re
a mark of beauty. Of being special.”

“Oh.
Well, I’m not anyone special,” I grumble, putting my purse on the same table
and taking out my cell phone.

“Of
course you are.” Two fingers slide under my chin and push it upward so our gazes
lock. My breath hitches in my throat, and for a moment I forget what I was
going to do.

“I’ll
stay here. For
tonight
,” I emphasize. “I just need to let our house
manager know.”

He
nods rather reluctantly and trails his fingers down my neck and collarbone as
he lowers his arm. My lower abdomen clenches, but I distract myself by
scrolling through the contacts on my phone for Carly’s number. It’s already
eleven thirty; I’m cutting it close. Carly picks up after several rings.

“Hey,
Siobhan.”

“Hey.
I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

I
can feel Carly giving me a skeptical look through the phone. “Please. I’m still
doing this homework for Concepts of Math. What’s up?”

“Look,
I’m sorry for the last minute notice, but I was out with Jimmy, and I think I’m
just going to stay at his place tonight.” I wouldn’t care if Carly knew where I
was really staying, but if it gets back to Farrah I don’t want her knowing I’m
having a sleepover with her son.

“You
know that’s fine with
me
,” Carly says. “Thanks for calling, though. See
you tomorrow!”

“Bye.”
I end the call and turn to back to Jasper. He stoops to get something out of
the fridge.

“Milk?”
he asks me. He smiles sheepishly. “It’s all I have.”

“Sure.”
While he fills two glasses I wander around his apartment. It isn’t anything
like I imagined it would be, although it’s more realistic for someone living
off of a graduate student’s stipend. The efficiency apartment and meager
furnishings don’t at all reflect the sensual, elegant presence that permeates
it. There are really only two separate rooms: a bathroom packed with a shower,
a toilet, and a sink that’s too big for it, and a living room/kitchen. A pale
wood room divider separates his full-size bed and bureau from the rest of the
living room. What remains is only enough space for a love seat, small coffee
table and a television. There are several TV trays folded up in the corner.

He
nudges my shoulder, and I turn to accept a glass from him.

“Are
you hungry?” he asks me. “I don’t really have a lot here, but I’m sure we could
scrounge something up.”

“I’m
fine. Still full from dinner.” Right…I can pretty much eat whenever, but I
don’t know him well enough to divulge all of my darkest secrets. Sipping my
milk, I grimace slightly but swallow it anyway.

Jasper
notices my frown. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,
really. It just tastes really sweet,” I explain. “Not that I’m anti-sugar. It
just surprised me.”

“Sorry,
I should have mentioned—it’s lactose-free. Sometimes I forget it tastes
different than regular milk.”

So
the paragon of love and desire has a lactose sensitivity? For some reason this
makes me happy. I guess even a Greek god isn’t utterly perfect.

“You
asked me why Aphrodite’s here,” he recalls, sitting down on the love seat’s
glossy black cushions. I already forgot, but nod to encourage him to continue.
“As I mentioned before, it’s forbidden for us to cross universes,” he says
after swallowing a big gulp of milk. “Aphrodite and Hephaestus are here for
me.
But she’s insanely jealous of you. She always has been. I’m concerned for your
safety.”

“I
see.” I use my hands to sweep back flyaway strands of hair out of my face as I
think back to our confrontation with Hef. “Who are Apate and Dolos?”

“Olympians.
Brother and sister. Why?”

“Hephaestus
asked you if Dolos came with you.”

“Ah,
that’s right. I don’t really know what that was all about.” The way he shrugs
it off makes me suspect he
does
know. He drains his glass and takes my
empty one. He walks back into the kitchen and sets them in the sink. “Do you
mind if we turn in soon? It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”

“Sure.
Do you have extra sheets?” He raises his eyebrows. “For the couch,” I explain.

His
lips curve into an amused, wicked smile. “Why do you think I’d make you sleep
on there? You’re sleeping in the bed. With
me
.”

“I’m
fine. I’m small—I fit. See?” I curl up on the love seat, only bending my knees
slightly.

“We
can sleep together without
sleeping
together,” he points out. His
expression grows serious. “I won’t touch you. Look, if it makes you
uncomfortable, take the bed, and I’ll sleep on the floor.”

From
the tone of his voice, you would think it’s really no big deal, but my
reluctance has dulled the glitter of hopefulness in his eyes. He assumes an
inscrutable mask, but I know he’s hurt. Pouting, like a child. Even so, I
concede, “No, you’re right. We’re both adults here. We’ll just…go to sleep.”

He
nods but doesn’t perk up again at my change of heart, just disappears into the
bathroom and slams the door shut behind him. I hear running water. Sighing, I perch
on the foot of his bed for a moment. I don’t think I can do this. Not the
sleeping with him in his bed part—the rediscovering our love part. Maybe it’s
true that I’m Psyche, his deceased wife reincarnated, but I honestly don’t know
how she put up with him. Even though his fervent gaze and teasing caresses are
hard to resist—he’s a black hole of insatiable sexual energy, sucking me in—it
only takes seconds for his mood to switch from flirty and playful to dark and
resentful. Can Olympians be bipolar?

“Can
I borrow a shirt?” I shout when the sink turns off. When he doesn’t answer, I
get up and slide the door of his closet open. It’s sparser than I imagined,
with only a few pairs of dress pants, shirts and suit jackets hanging inside. I
reach up to the shelf and grab a plain black t-shirt. When I put it on, it
comes down to just above my knees. The bathroom door clicks open, and Jasper
comes out. He looks me up and down with renewed interest.

“Seeing
you in my shirt is pretty sexy,” he admits. Although his mischievous grin has
returned, worry flashes in his eyes, as if he’s wary of my reaction.

I
smile to let him know it’s okay. “Excuse me,” I tell him, ducking into the
bathroom.

Minutes
later, we lay side-by-side on his bed without touching each other. The rest of
the apartment might be minimalist, but there’s a touch of Jasper in the dark
red satin sheets covering the bed. He’s turned on his side, his back to me. I
stare at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep even though my sore muscles welcome
the soft firmness of the mattress and my eyes feel heavy. Thought after thought
tumbles through my mind, distracting me from sleep.

“Do
I look like her?” I whisper into the dark. I don’t even realize I’ve said it
out loud until I hear Jasper’s questioning grunt beside me. He rolls over to
face me.

“Do
I look like Psyche?” I repeat. “Is that how you knew I was her?”

Jasper
shakes his head. “Not exactly. You share some features with her—your stature,
pale skin, blonde hair. But you don’t look like her any more than you look like
any other petite blonde girl.

“Except
for the eyes.” He shifts closer to me. In the darkened room, his eyes glow like
black marbles. The streetlight filtering through the blinds on the window send
stripes of alternating light and dark over the bed. “You have the same eyes. I
could see her in them.”

“Was
she prettier than me?”

“Siobhan—”

“Did
she have bigger boobs than me?” A snort of laughter escapes from me before I
can turn it into a girlish giggle, and now that he knows I’m kidding he joins
in.

“Seriously,
though,” he says after our laughter has subsided, “you
are
beautiful,
but it’s not just about that. You have her charm, her grace. Her caring heart.”

Suddenly,
he breaks his “no touching” promise, pulling me into his chest. His face is so
close I can feel his minty breath on mine when he says, “Maybe you don’t
remember me, remember us—and maybe you never will. But I hope you can learn to
love me, as we are now.” His lips on mine prevent any reply from me—not that I
was ready with one, anyway. It’s a soft, closed-mouth kiss, but filled with a
gentle passion and a desperate yearning that makes my body sink further into
him. When it’s over, I stay curled up beside him and fall asleep with my head
on his chest.

Chapter 18

It’s
still dark outside when I wake up. During the
night,
Jasper and I
drifted apart to our respective sides of the bed. I feel it move as Jasper sits
up, then gets up. I look over at the blazing red numbers of the digital clock
on the nightstand. I hug my pillow and moan into it.

“It’s
six o’clock. Why do you have to be up so early?” I ask him, my voice still
groggy with fatigue.

“Some
of us have to be on campus by eight,” he says. “
You
don’t have to get
up—stay here, if you like.”

I
blink back the sleep threatening to take me over again and sit up. “I should
get up, too. I need to stop by the sorority house. All my stuff is there,” I
remind Jasper when he shoots me an alarmed look. “I’ll be careful.”

He
doesn’t look convinced but says nothing, except “I’m going to take a shower.”
Draping a forest green towel over his shoulder, he disappears into the
bathroom. I get out my phone to check in with the world, even though most of
the people I know probably aren’t up yet. Anna is first on my list. I feel bad
for not having texted her sooner.

you
get home ok last night?

Next
I check my email. There’s nothing important except for the minutes and
reminders from yesterday’s chapter meeting. While I’m skimming over them Anna texts
me back:

yep!
everything's fine. you too?
Before I can reply, she sends me another
message:
did you see this? there was a fire at the WPH after we left?!!!
I select the link she included and glance over the news article: Firefighters
were able to contain the “fire of unknown cause” to the garden, the hotel
itself remaining unscathed.

I
look up to the sound of the bathroom door opening. Jasper emerges with the
towel wrapped around his torso, his hair damp, stray droplets of water
glistening on his chest. I turn my attention back to my phone. My libido can’t
handle this much sexy so early in the morning. I go back to my email and hit
“compose” to send out another reminder about the dance on Friday.

“Crap,”
I mumble as I’m pounding out the message.

“What’s
wrong?” Jasper asks.

“We’re
supposed to set our big sisters up with a blind date for our dance on Friday. I
haven’t found anyone for Victoria yet.”

“That
shouldn’t be too hard. You don’t have to look very far.”

“What
do you mean?” Without thinking I look up, forgetting about the towel. I’m not sure
if I’m relieved or disappointed to see he’s since put on pants.

“I
think she has a little crush on you,” he explains, buttoning up his shirt.

“How
did you know she’s—”

“I
didn’t, until I saw her hovering over you after your fight with Liz.”

“Like
a mother hen,” I insist.

Jasper
shrugs, his mouth set in a skeptical frown. “If you say so. Anyway, I’ll find
her a date,” he assures me.

“You
will?” I sigh gratefully. “Thanks.” It occurs to me that, knowing a houseful of
Sigma Iota brothers, it should be easy for him to find Victoria a lavender
date. “You like playing matchmaker, don’t you, Cupid?” I realize, recalling
Liz, and Eric and Anna.

Jasper
grimaces. “You can call me anything you want. Anything except
that
.”

“Got
it, Cupid,” I tease him and take my turn in the bathroom. I splash my face and
change back into my torn dress. I’ll shower when I’m back at the house.

“Do
you have a jacket I could borrow?” I ask him later.

“Sure.”
He comes up behind me and engulfs me in one of his black suit jackets. The
sleeves stop just above my fingertips. “Ready to go?”

“How
are we getting there?” I ask, suddenly suspicious.

“Relax.
I have a car.”

***

We
sit in silence as Jasper navigates the side streets to get back to campus, but
it’s a comfortable, contemplative silence rather than a tense one. The suburbs
are waking up under the gray dawn as people get in their minivans to drive
their kids to school or go to work. Just like with his apartment, I pictured
Jasper behind the wheel of a sleek, black sports car—not this wheezing, tan
station wagon that looks like something my grandparents might drive. Still,
it’s better than flying.

“Thanks,”
I tell him when he rolls up to the Quad. “See you in a few hours.”

He
takes my hand and pecks a kiss on my knuckles. “Thanks for staying over last
night.” Unsure of what to say, I give him a shy but contented smile before
getting out of the car.

Swiping
my card key in the front door, I push it open to the sound of Tanya’s
high-pitched, angry voice shattering the peaceful morning.

“You
can’t
do
this!” she screams as I come inside. I close the door loudly
behind me, but she doesn’t look up. Her eyes are trained on the open door to
Farrah’s room.

“Tanya,
calm down.” That’s Victoria, a note of warning in her otherwise reassuring
tone.

“I’m
not going to calm down! She can’t do this!” Tears streak down Tanya’s tan
cheeks. She’s still in her pajamas, her blonde hair sticking up at odd angles
around her head. “We’re a sorority—we try to retain members, not kick them out!
Recruitment’s in two weeks! How are we supposed to recruit anybody with only
half our chapter?”

Half
of our chapter? Farrah wants to kick out
half
of our girls? “What’s
going on?” I call out, making my presence known, but no one turns to me.

“I
can’t explain everything right now.” Farrah’s calm, sweet voice is the hardest
to hear, further muffled because she’s inside her room. “All I can say is they
don’t represent the ideals of the sisterhood. They don’t belong here.”

“You
never explain
anything
!” Tanya erupts, wiping at her bleary eyes with
her thumbs. “And how dare you say that! You just got here—you have no right to
make that judgment! This is bullshit!” With that final exclamation, Tanya spins
around and runs upstairs.

“Twin,
what happened?” I ask, hurrying after her.

She
stomps into our room and growls. “Our stupid House Monster has decided to
suspend twenty five of our active members. And Victoria’s taking her side!” She
plops down on her bed and puts her head in her hands. When she next speaks, her
voice is quieter, more confused than angry. “Why would she do that? They love
this sorority.”

I
shake my head. “I don’t know,” I tell her, although I have a sinking feeling
that something else is going on—something neither Jasper nor Farrah will tell
me, something beyond her supposed personal hatred of me. Something deeper, more
disturbing.

Tanya
dries her eyes with a tissue and then blows her nose noisily into it.

“I
need to take a shower,” I tell her. “Are you okay?”

She
nods and sighs in defeat. “I guess I’ll go eat breakfast.”

When
she’s gone, I shed Jasper’s jacket and my ripped dress, wrap myself in a
terrycloth robe and plod to the bathroom. The cool, gentle spray from the
shower wakes me the rest of the way up. I put on a pair of black leggings and an
aqua tunic. Into my messenger bag I stuff my books for class before slinging it
diagonally over my left shoulder so it’s resting on my hip. I fold Jasper’s
jacket over my arm and decide to return it to him now, before class.

Downstairs,
Tanya sits cross-legged on the couch, stuffing her mouth with brightly colored
cereal. The door to Farrah’s room is closed again, and Victoria is nowhere to
be found.

“We’ll
figure this out,” I tell her as I’m heading out the door. “I promise.”

“Thanks,”
she says, milk dribbling onto her chin.

Outside,
the sky remains overcast in typical Shadesburg fashion. It looked like it was
going to rain all weekend, but the sky still hasn’t opened up. I take my time
crossing campus to the humanities building, watching as the zombie-like faces
of those unfortunate students with nine a.m. classes pass by me. I bring up the
World Myths and Legends syllabus on my phone to double-check Jasper’s office
number: Room 2B.

Inside
Frasier Hall, I walk up the hardwood stairs to the second floor and wander the
hall until I see a pair of glass doors stamped with History Department in gold
letters. I’m about to go up to it when I see a group of people emerging from
the depths of the suite—a group that includes Liz, with Jasper bringing up the rear.
None of them have seen me yet, and for some reason instinct sends me diving for
cover just inside the doorway to the women’s restroom.

“We’re
still on for Friday,” Jasper reminds them. I peer around the wall. “We’ll meet
up here at six p.m.” Besides Liz, Genie, Sam and several of his Sigma Iota
brothers are there. The rest I don’t recognize. “Do you think you’ll be able to
get the stones?” This question is for Liz.

“Yes,
Master,” Liz twitters. She gazes up into his face, and the unwavering reverence
I see in her deep brown eyes makes me feel numb.

“
Please
don’t call me that.”

“Yeah.
Grow up,” says Genie, her breath fluttering her shiny black bangs as she
emphasizes the last word.

Liz
crosses her arms, her lower lip jutting out in a childish frown. “The next time
Farrah leaves the house, I’ll get them,” she assures him.

“Thank
you. We saw this coming,” Jasper confesses, “but this is just a hiccup, guys.
Once they’re out of the picture, we can continue with our work. Thanks again
for your hard work and patience, everyone.”

The
group continues to roll down the hall, a ball of anticipation and excited
chatter, but Jasper lingers in front of the glass doors for a moment. His eyes
dart in the direction of the women’s restroom, and I flatten myself against the
wall, palms sweating, heart pounding. It feels like an eternity before he
finally goes back inside. I wait a few minutes before creeping out and take off
in the direction of the stairs, his jacket still draped over my arm.