Chapter 9 Atticus #2
Dorian shrugs. His guess is as good as mine. “Warden things? Must be why the door was unlocked. Guess we’re stuck here until he leaves.”
Warden Stone looks tired, weathered and aged like a crumpled-up piece of paper, as if he never went to bed in the first place. Whatever work he’s doing, it must be important.
“We might be here for a while,” I say.
Dorian sighs, and his breath curls against my cheek. He’s taller than me, but only by a little. We stand, touching just slightly, our bodies meeting, coming together, then parting awkwardly. In the narrow space it’s impossible for us not to touch.
I wonder, is this the closest he and I have ever been?
“Comfortable?” he jokes, his whisper drawing my gaze up to his eyes. They’re green flecked with gold, and it’s dizzying to see them up close.
I shrug. “As comfortable as one can be hiding behind a fireplace in a secret room full of magical books.”
The corners of his mouth curl into a smile. “Maybe we can make that making-out lie true.”
He’s joking. Right? Dorian’s straight. He’s in love with Raven. He’d never think of me like that…would he? Even he must realize what he said, because his smile falls and his eyes drop to my lips, and he looks away.
We fall into awkward silence, watching Warden Stone’s shadow moving slowly around the room.
It’s like he’s looking for something and can’t find it.
He looks angrier with each passing minute.
My hands are bunched up against Dorian’s sweatshirt, and I can feel his heart beating beneath the fabric.
I try to move my hands away, but I can’t.
We’re too cramped. Dorian senses me trying to shift, and he lifts his arm above my head, bracing himself against the wall to give me space.
We twist and turn; I’m amazed Warden Stone doesn’t see us.
I tuck my arms to my sides, breaking a brief, accidental embrace.
The urge to touch him is overwhelming, but I don’t because of how he feels about Raven. Every time he catches her eye, he looks like a lost puppy. When she’s around, his aura goes pink and orange, like the most brilliant sunset.
I get it, Raven is beautiful. They would make a great couple. I don’t blame Dorian in the slightest. And I can’t bring myself to tell him how I feel. I don’t want to lose either of them because of something I said. I don’t want to break up our trio.
By now, Warden Stone has moved far enough away, I know he can’t hear us. I have to change the subject, or I might say something foolish, like tell Dorian how nice this moment is. “What you did back there, though, seeing the past by touching the wall, it’s amazing.”
“Is it?”
“Always has been,” I say, feeling dizzy on my feet.
I breathe in his cologne. It’s subtle, and it mixes with the scent of his body, his soap and a dash of perspiration.
It fills my nose, making me feel as if I’ve pressed my face directly into the nape of his neck.
They say that scent is tied closely to memory, that the aroma of one thing can trigger a hundred recollections, so I drink in that scent, hoping to recall this moment.
“You know, I’ve always wondered about your power,” I say. “You’ve never told me what happens when you touch a person.”
Dorian takes a deep breath, half his face lost in shadow. He hesitates, somehow nervous. “I’ve only touched someone once since my powers manifested. It was an accident.”
“You never told me about that.”
“That’s because it…” He winces, and I stare at him, wondering what ails him. We’ve always been friends, but there are some things he likes to keep to himself.
This is one of them.
We’re alike, I suppose, in that regard, keeping secrets.
But maybe because it’s me asking the question, or maybe because he’s feeling brave, he says, “During summer break, right before sixth grade, I was on the subway, and this old man…He collapsed, right in front of me. No one else did anything. And I didn’t think about it, I just reached out, tried to shake him awake, and when my hand touched his… ”
Dorian shudders. “My heart stopped when I touched him. Actually stopped. He was going into cardiac arrest, and so was I. It hurt so much.” His lips twitch, tears forming in his eyes.
“It’s hard to explain, but I think maybe I died.
For a second. With him. I somehow absorbed what was happening to him. ”
“Oh, shit,” I whisper. “What happened next?”
Dorian shrugs. “He woke up, and the paramedics took him away, but…I can’t be certain, but I think he lived.
I don’t know, but I might have saved him.
When they lifted him to his feet, he was talking, and his face was no longer gray.
” He looks haunted, his gaze distant. “It’s one of the reasons why I wanted to come to Sibylline.
If there’s anyone out there who can help me, this is the place—right? ”
I nod slightly.
Dorian focuses his gaze on me, those green eyes of his dancing as he does. All I can think about is him, wanting to touch him, to feel him.
“Do you want to try again?” I ask.
Dorian stiffens, shoulders raised, and his Adam’s apple drops when he swallows. It’s almost like I can see him building a wall around himself.
“As friends,” I quickly add.
“You want me to try to use my power on you?”
“Why not? I’m not going into cardiac arrest, not yet.”
Dorian’s breath comes out a little shaky. He clenches his hand into a fist, still braced against the wall above me. He has the strong hands of an athlete. I wonder what it would feel like to grab his bare hand. To feel his skin on mine.
“What would you like me to do?” He’s nervous. I can sense it. The nervous energy is rolling off of him in waves.
“Whatever you want.”
His gaze drops to my lip again, pausing for the span of a heartbeat, before it snaps back up to my eyes.
I ache with desire.
“Finch, it’s…” His gaze roams the space around my lips, and he bites at his lower lip.
I sense the rejection coming, and I bat it away before it can hurt me. “Right, I know, it’s stupid,” I say. “Forget I mentioned it.”
“I didn’t say it’s stupid.”
Hope can be like hunger. Once you’ve gone long enough without what you want, one bite can make you sick. But there’s something in his eyes, a hunger of its own kind that reignites the hope I’ve grown so used to starving with. It leaves me to wonder what he truly desires.
Dorian, do you want me?
The question hangs between us, the air alive with tension. Just then he moves closer, and my breath catches. His lips part as he presses his chest so close to mine that I can feel the beating of his heart, pounding like a drum, each beat sending shock waves through my skin. I lean toward him—
A loud crack reverberates throughout the tall chamber. I turn, catching sight of Warden Stone lifting a book from the floor. He must have dropped it a second earlier when I wasn’t looking. Dorian withdraws, flattening his back against the wall, shifting so our bodies no longer touch.
Warden Stone tucks the book beneath his arm and moves behind a tall tow of shelves. A door closes, banging shut.
“Is he gone?” I whisper.
Neither of us knows the answer.
We wait, listening, but the room is silent, save for the crackle of the fire, Dorian’s soft breathing, and my own heart beating out a plaintive rhythm.
“Let’s go,” I say. The morning shift will likely be here soon.
I peek out from our hiding spot. Warden Stone is gone.
Dorian follows behind me as I dart into the room. I look for a book, any book that looks interesting, and point to one.
“There, that one, with the blue cover,” I say.
Using the key to unlock the cage, Dorian slips the book from its shelf.
We make our way to the door, lock it behind us, and then we’re sprinting down the darkened tunnel, Dorian with the book in his hands, and me still wondering if he almost kissed me.