Medicine Man

The side of my face is flaming. I’m pretty sure I’m red, scarlet. Because he hasn’t stopped watching me.

Maybe he’ll find my fanciful thoughts young and immature. Like he finds me.

“How are you?” he asks, after a few moments.

Gathering my courage and fucking maturity, I face him. The fact that I can look at him without craning my neck means that he’s too far away.

Which is good, actually. Healthy.

Not complaining, at all.

I smile. “I’m good.”

His stare is unnerving. And strangely, it feels perpetual. Never-ending. Going on forever and ever.

And I can’t stop myself from telling him all the things. “School is good. I mean, I struggle with it sometimes but it’s great.”

“And friends?”

It makes me blush, the way he asks me about friends, with such tenderness and curiosity. Like I’m a little girl and he wants to make sure that I’m not alone.

“I do have friends, actually. Um, college is much better about it than high school. I have study partners and lab partners and yeah…” I trail off, not wanting to stop talking and hating it. “And the beach. We went to the beach a few months back. I’m not real fond of the beach and the sun but it was good.”

Something strange happens to his face. It glimmers with intensity. Dare I even say… passion?

“Did you have a good day?”

I swallow. “At the beach?”

“Yes.”

I open my mouth to answer but no words come out. Folding my hands at my back, I rub my tattoo.

Simon is watching. Waiting. I don’t understand the way that he seems to be so hung up on the answer. Whatever that might be.

Finally, I lie, “Yes. It was great.”

I hope for him to catch me in my lie but he doesn’t. He stays silent.

“Okay, well,” I say, loudly. “I have to go. I –”

“I’ll drop you off.”

“Oh, you don’t have to. I can just call a cab.”

“No.” He shakes his head, ready to walk to his car. “Come on.”

“No, seriously, it’s okay. It’s like more than an hour going back to the city. And –”

“Then it’ll be more than an hour.”

Simon is waiting for me like he really won’t move from his spot until I do.

Damn it.

I don’t want to spend upwards of an hour in the confines of his car. The car I’ve only seen on the other side of the black gates of Heartstone. One day when I didn’t have much to think about, I thought about his stupid car, the leather seats and windows fogged up by questionable activities.

It’s actually one of my dreams to make out with him in the backseat of a car like a normal, horny teenager. Or was.

Shaking my head, I start to walk. And to hide my frustration, I thrust my hands in the pockets of my jacket, like he usually does.

We drive back to the city in complete silence. Yup. Not one word.

Simon is staring at the road like if he moved his eyes even for a micro-second, we’d crash and die. His hands are in a perfect ten and two position on the wheel.

God.

He makes me so mad with his stupid rule-following and precision. And the fact that he hasn’t even looked my way once since he opened the door for me like a complete gentleman and we took off.

Whereas me? I’ve been throwing him all the glances that I can, without being obvious. But you know what? I stop there. I won’t make any conversation, not until he does first.

Damn you, Beth. Damn you for giving me hope.

The rain has started to come down heavily now, and when the car comes to a stop, I literally jump out of it, feeling all kinds of caged in and frustrated. Even the cold rain doesn’t do anything to bring down my heated agitation.

I throw the door closed, ready to walk away when I realize I never even told him my address, let alone the address of the bookstore I work at. But I’m magically standing in front of its yellow awning and the glass front.

How did he know –

“Are you happy, Willow?”

His voice makes me jump and halts all my thoughts. I dart my gaze to him and I have to tilt my neck up to look at his face.

He’s standing much closer, rivulets of rain streaming down his thick, gorgeous hair and eyelashes. The strands are stuck to his forehead and neck and when the water sluices down his soft mouth, I want to reach up and drink it down.

Like I’m thirsty and I’ve been that way all my life.

I sweep my drenched bangs away from my forehead. “Yes.”

I wait for him to do something. Say something. Again, catch me in my lie.

His jawline turns harsh, his eyes become dark, but then it all flickers away and he steps back.

As fucking usual. Looking down at my boots, I shake my head.