The Knight Of The Rose (17 page)

dangling off the side. “I just—I don’t know if I’m comfortable being in your room now, is all.”

“Right.” Mike nodded, letting his gaze slip past me to the window.

I rolled onto my side and propped my head up with the ball of my palm. “So, what ’s the plan

today?”

“Well, a change of shirt’s fi rst on the list.” He unzipped his suitcase. “Then, I wanna hear all

about this new boyfriend of yours.”

I grinned at the sound of his accent—how, alone, in a quiet space, the Aussie in him became

more prominent, more noticeable—not a strong accent, just enough to surprise me.

“What?” He frowned.

“Oh, um. It’s the accent,” I said, ceasing my stare at his face. “It sounds so...foreign.”

“Have you heard
yourself
? You’re all
American
.” He put on a mock American accent, but it

sounded more Canadian.

“Hey, don’t knock the accent.” I rolled onto my back and looked up at the ceiling. “Took me

weeks to get it right.”

“Well, it sounds very authentic,” he said warmly.

In a dream-like state, I listened to the sound of the small pockets in his suitcase unzip, and the

gentle thud of the drawers along the wall at the foot of the bed. I loved that sound.

When the suitcase scuffed along the floor, I looked at Mike as he kicked it under the bed and

laid a clean shirt on the blanket. Until the moment he lifted the worn shirt off his back and grinned at

my gaping mouth with that gleaming smile, I’d never thought much about his body. But his sexy

physique, with his bare chest, the softball-sized muscles on his arms, and his honey-brown tan made

me take a deep, shaky breath. “Looks like you’ve been working hard to get into the Tactical Group?”

I smiled at him one last time before a shiver ran down my spine, forcing me to look at the roof again.

“There’s no way
not
to appreciate that kind of workmanship.”

“Well, they expect a certain level of f itness,” he said, ruffling about at the foot of the bed,

“it’s my duty to exceed that.”

“Well, you certainly didn’t look like that the las t time you took your shirt off, so...duty

fulfilled,” I scoffed, and everything went dark with the strong scent of Mike. “Ew. Wash this thing. It

stinks,” I joked, peeling his shirt off my face then throwing it back at him.

He caught it, held it to his nose, then shr ugged and threw it behind him. “Come on—move

over.”

“Make me.”

“Fine.” The giant jumped onto the queen-sized bed and sunk his elbows heavi ly into the

softness beside me, making me roll slightly into him.

I shoved my pal m against his arm and rolled onto my back. “God, you take up so much

space.” He chuckled and tucked his elbows under his ribs to hold his head off the bed. “If you don’t

like it, you could just get off my bed.”

I smiled as he shoved my gently. “Like I said;
Make me
.”

“If anyone could
make
you do anything, Ara-Rose, my life would’ve been much easier.”

“Ha-ha,” I remarked sarcastically. When I looked back at him, his smiling eyes traced circles

over my features. I smiled back, seeing the fine lines I’d memorized from all our nights lying beside

each other, watching movies, and the little pupil-sized scar on the bridge of his nose that he got when

I threw a rock at him for being a jerk one day. I felt at home in the comfortable silence—the kind we

were used to. “What is it, Mike ?” I asked when he t ook a long br eath and suddenly rolled onto his

back.

“I’m just tired. Long trip, you know.”

“Yeah,
that
I know.” Wit h a sigh, I looked at the clouds through the top of the window.

Mostly, I coul d only see the eaves of th e roof jutting out above the glas s, but beyond that, t he

summer sky went on forever.

As the shadows and the yellow glow of the sun moved across the floor and to the wall, I lost

myself in the peace around us —watching Mike’s chest rise and fall with his quiet breath, and the

vein on his neck pulse lightly with his heartbeat. It’d be nice to hear his hear tbeat—to place my ear

against his chest and rest my head there for a while. But I can’t bring myself to touch him that way

ever again. Mike’s made it way too clear how he feels. I won’t make the mistake of mis reading any

interactions between us ever again.

I stared out the window again, leaving Mike, with his eyes closed, to his own private dreams.

Already, from where I laid, I could see the yellow foliage falling to the ground below, leaving a bare,

lifeless and empty body in its wake ; abandoned and alone. I couldn’t stop it, and I couldn’t slow it

down. One day, merely two weeks from now, I will lose them both; Mike and David, forever.

But then, Mike still hasn’t confessed hi s undying love for me. Maybe that means I ’m

supposed to...

“What you thinkin’ ‘bout?” Mike’s voice startled me.

“Oh, hi, I thought you were asleep.” I tried to smile—it was a pathetic effort.

“
Clearly
.” He sat up and shuffled to the edge of the bed. “What was on your mind?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I stated quickly.

Mike sighed and dragged me, by the hand, to sit beside him. As the weight of his heavy arm

fell around my shoulder , I r olled my head and nestled my brow und er his jaw. Th e deep, almost

candy-musk scent of his cologne made a flash of his bedroom, back home, pop into my mind. “You

smell good,” I noted.

“It’s the cologne you bought me for my birthday.”

“Really?” I sat up and looked at him, incredulity littering my grin. “I thought you said it smelt

like an unopened coffin.”

“Hm. I did say that, didn’t I?” his gaze became thoughtful.

“Yes. Among other things.” I looked down at my hands.

“I was a bit of a dick, wasn’t I?”

I shrugged. “You were only young.”

“I was your age.”

“Then I reserve the right to be an annoying cow, since you were.” I grinned, then,
It
growled.

“Ha!” Mike poked my belly; “The ogre! I see some things haven’t changed at all.”

“Nothing’s changed, Mike—not really.” Oh, God. Why did I jus t say that? I’m beginning to

think unintentionally-leading comments are my sp ecialty. Internally, I slapped myself on the head

with a novelty-sized baseball bat.

Mike stopped for a second, half-way betwee n getting up and s itting back down, then shook

his head and pulled me off the bed; “Come on, let’s just feed the beast.”

“Okay. Then, later, I’ll take you across to the school so you can meet my friends.” I bounced

on my toes a little at the word
friends
.

“Friends, hey?”

“Yup. I’ve made this whole new life for myself, Mike. I’m like, totally normal, now.”

“You’ll never be normal, Ara. You’ve always been—special.” That comment should’ve been

followed with the usual head-tilt-eye-wink-combo, but instead, his gaze delved into mine. Golden

brown eyes, like maple syrup, creasing in the corners a little with his smile.

“I hope you don’t mean that in a derogatory sense,” I said.

He rolled his eyes, groaning. “Come on, I need food—it’s past lunch time already.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” I ran down the stairs ahead of him. And ever ything was just

the same as before—before all the tragedy and the awkward I-don’t-love-you-the-way-you-love-me

stuff. I threw pieces of fruit at Mike while he prepared food, and we talked about old times, movies,

music—home, and it was easy—for a moment.

Mike, with the sleeves of his dark-bl ue shirt rolled up, stood chopping onions and cor iander

at the bench, looking so tal l and so gr own up that I tried not to look at him—t ried not to feel…

anything.

But the strange sensation in my body, fl ooding me with pul sing hot blood ever y time he

smiled, made me long to be in his arms.

Then, that confusing pendulum of indecision kept changing things. I’d go back to square one

and think, No, Ara, what are you saying—you don’t want him to love you, be cause that means fate

has decided you should let David wander the earth, miserable, for eternity.

I felt kind of like Sherl ock Holmes, examining clues, and could even see myself pacing

around in my own head; I love David, but I love Mike, too.

I love David more, but Mike is good for me.

But, Mike doesn’t love me.

I guess, when I think logically, I wish he did—in a way. If I have to be without David, I can’t

think of anyone in the world I’d rather spend the rest of my life with, than Mike.

See? Woven tangle of what-the-hell. Erk! I dropped my head to my hand. Why did I get out

of bed this year?

When the plates no longer contained food and the last of the enthusiastic catch-up wore down

to more planned questions, Mike shook his head and smiled; “Know what I found the other day?”

“What?”

“Remember that picture we took at the golf course?”

“The day you tried to teach me how to play?” I started laughing, already replaying the tragic

ending to that day in my mind—tragic for the window of a golf cart, that is.

“Yeah.” Mike laughed. “You we re so much smaller then, and you still had that gap.” He

pointed to his front teeth.

I ran my tongue over my gums. “I thought you said you didn’t look at any pictures of me over

the last few months.”

Mike looked down at his hands, smiling under reddening cheeks. “Well, maybe a few.”

I shook my head. “Then how did you forget what I looked like?”

“I guess I didn’t, really. You’ve just...You know, you’ve grown up so much while we were

apart.” I smiled. “Of course I have. Did you think I’d stay a little girl forever?” Although, he has no

idea how close I am to
that
fate.

“I just never expected time wou ld change you so much while I wasn’t around to see it .

You’re,” he considered carefully, “well, you’re a woman now.”

“A woman? Mike, I’m seventeen. No older than when I left.” I laughed.

He shook his head. “I t’s not your age, it’s something…else. You’ve been through a lot. It’s

bound to leave its mark.”

“You mean scar.”

He reached across the t able for my hand; I reluct antly placed it in his. “I’m here now, baby

girl. I didn’t know how much I was missing you until I saw you. Now it feels almost like my heart

might tear out if I have to leave you again.”

“I’m sure you’ll change your mind after two weeks with me—then you can go back and get

on with your life,” I said, then laughed in an attempt to bring nonchalance back into the room—since

it suddenly got very intense.

He nodded. “I’m beginning to rethink that.”

“What?” My heart stopped with an almost audible thud. “Why would you say that?”

“I miss you, Ara—you belong in my life, you al

ways have. I…look…I have to tell you

something.” His shoulders lifted a little. “Please don’t get mad, okay?”

“Okay?” My limbs tightened in panicked anticipation.

He looked down at our hands for a second, then back at me with those caramel eyes, warmed

with a smile hidden under the corners, but infused with anxiety. “T he truth is—I came here to say

goodbye, Ara. One final go odbye before I let you go for good. You seemed to be getting on with

your life, but, now I’m here, I can’t do it.” He shrugged and one corner of his lip turned up. “So, I’m

going with plan B.”

“What’s plan B? Hire a time-machine for the week and change the past?”

“Not quite.” I could tell he wanted to roll his eyes at my lame joke, but he only toyed with my

fingers nervously. “I guess what I’m trying to say is…I...I love you, Ar. I want you to come home

with me.”

“That’s not funny, Mike.”

“Good, because I’m not joking.”

A deadening sense of shock and heartbreak melted through me, starting in my hear t and

pulsing through my tor so until finally, i t filled my head. The r oom swirled as his words hung l ow

around my ears, repeating themselves under the echoes of things he said when he rejected me—when

he told me what I was doing that night wasn’t right.

“Ara, say something. Please. I’m dying here.” Mike squeezed my hand; I stole it back and

glared at him, not bot hering to fight back the hot tears brimming my lashes. “Ar—” He reached out

for me again. “Baby, you okay?”

“This is wrong, Mike!” I jerked up out of my chair. “You’re lying. You just feel guilty

because my mum died—you don’t want me.” I leaned forward as I spoke. “Remember? You told me

you don’t love me. You—”

“I was a damn fool .” He stood up and grabbed my arms gently. “I di dn’t mean it like that . I

didn’t mean a
bloody
word of
any
of it.” He closed his eyes tightly and angled his face to the ground.

“I can’t take back what happened, but I—”

“Please stop.” My head shook almost uncontrollably. Why is he doing thi s? What did I do to

make him think he has to lie to me? “Mike? You were right when you said that just because we work

well, doesn’t mean it’s how thi ngs are meant to be. We’re friends. It was
me
that got confused. I

shouldn’ta made you feel you had to make a choice—I shouldn’ta put you in that position.”

“I never got to tal k to you about it , Ara,” he spoke louder. “You never let me fini sh and

then—” he ran a brisk hand through his hair as he stood back from me, “—then everything happened