Chapter 13 Mariella #2
Leaning forward on my knees, I grasp the handle, twisting it back and forth until it budges open. Parker steps out into the communal corridor. “And they say chivalry is dead,” I murmur, laughing as I slump back against my door.
Parker’s tall frame towers above me. He drags his thumb along his bottom lip, his mouth curving into a dimpled grin.
“What?” I ask, struggling to focus on his translucent skin.
“You look beautiful,” he says, his voice almost pained. He sits opposite me, lazing against the wall with his forearms resting on bent knees.
“All Anna’s”—hiccup—“doing.”
An easy smile flitters across his face. “Have you been drinking, Ella?”
“A bit.” Wait. Why is he transparent? “Why do you look like that?”
“I’m not sure.” He studies his large, faded hand. “It gets worse the further I am from Rose.”
I push myself more upright. “Do you think she’s losing her powers?”
“No,” he says, a little too quickly, and looks away. “She’s just exhausted.”
“Where is she?”
He tips his head to his apartment. “Sleeping.”
I press my lips together and nod, but I can’t stand the silence stretching between us. “Are you really going to take me to see my mother when you get your powers back?” I ask.
The tension in his shoulders ebbs. “I promise,” he says, staring me directly in the eye. “You’re my first stop the second I can travel again.” He leans toward me, squinting at the side of my face. “Hey, did you get your ear pierced?”
I beam. “Anna pierced it at the club with the back of her earring.”
“Sounds sanitary,” he says, shaking his head at the ceiling, but there’s a wide grin on his face.
My heart squirms. I want to make him smile again, large enough for those dimples to appear.
“How did you meet Anna?” he asks.
“She came to class on the first day drunk and sat next to me. She thought I was someone else—her friend, Janice.” I snort.
“She spent the whole hour calling me Janny-Wanny.” Parker’s warm laugh mingles with mine.
“She’s been hounding me to go clubbing with her pretty much every day since.
That and get a tattoo or more piercings.
” I gesture to my ear. “She swore it wouldn’t draw attention, but you noticed it, so… ” I shrug.
“There isn’t much you could change without me noticing,” he says, and something flutters in my stomach. “It looks great.”
Why is he giving me compliments? I doubt Rose would approve. “Is Rose your girlfriend?” I blurt.
“What?” Parker says, all emotion leeched from his voice.
I fiddle with the hem of my dress. “Well, I mean, you’re always together. And you were so avoidant about my dream. I thought she might be the reason. You’re different when she’s around.”
“I’m sorry, Ella, I’m trying to—” He runs a hand through his hair. “Interacting with the past can alter your memories when you return to the future. We call it memory splitting. Your original memory overlaps with a new one, and once it’s done, you’ll never remember which memory was real.”
“So, you change the past, but you can’t remember how?” I ask.
“That’s the thing. Changing the past isn’t possible.
I mean, you can make small ripples by interacting with it, but nothing will change long term.
McGregor used to say it was nature’s way of balancing itself out.
For example, you can stop someone getting on a plane, but if they really want to go, they’ll get on the next one.
” He shrugs. “Or they won’t. Either way, it won’t change the grand trajectory of their life.
Meddling in the past won’t achieve anything other than splitting your memories, and I don’t want that to happen to me.
It’s easier for me if I keep my distance.
And as for Rose, she’s like—an annoying sister. ”
A knot of tension releases in my chest. But—a sister? I tilt my head to the side, but my whole body follows, and I catch myself before I slump over. “Why are men so clueless when it comes to women?”
“You’re the psychology major, you tell me,” he says, another grin playing on his lips.
“I’ll let you know once I figure it out. Which I will, once I’m a boss clinical psychologist with my own private consultation rooms.”
“Okay, Ella,” he says with a low chuckle. “Time to go to bed.”
“Can’t. Lost my keys,” I say, my eyelids drooping.
“Where’s Anna?”
“She went home with tongue-ring guy, but it’s okay.” I gesture to the floor. “I’m going to sleep here.”
“What a great idea,” he murmurs.
“I’m a clever woman.” I smile, closing my eyes, and Parker sighs.
“I know. Come on.”
I open my eyes and he’s on his feet.
“You can sleep in my bed. Just be quiet because Rose needs her sleep.”
Looking up at him, my head lolls back against my door and the corridor spins.
He suppresses a laugh. “Okay, Ella. I need you to get up.” I stand and trip, giggling. “You need to be quiet, remember?” he whispers. “And don’t forget your jacket.”
“Okay.” I follow him through his half-furnished apartment to the bedroom. The light from the living area spills over Rose, lying on her side on one of the single beds.
Parker gestures to the empty bed against the opposite wall. “Sleep there. I’ll be in the living room.”
“Okay. Wait,” I say as he turns to leave. There’s no sofa in the living room, only a hard wooden floor.
“What?” he whispers, pausing inside the doorframe.
“I can’t let you sleep on the floor”—hiccup—“after you’ve given up your bed to stop me from doing the very same thing.
” But what’s the alternative? I stare at the single bed and nerves flood my vodka-soaked body.
I’ve never shared a bed with a man. And his bed is tiny and he’s enormous.
My eyes crawl up his expansive chest and over his defined jaw, hitching on his lips.
I won’t be able to sleep knowing he’s on the cold floor because of me.
I finally reach his eyes, a deep bronze in the dim light. “We’ll share the bed.”
“Are you coming on to me, Ella?” He arches a dark blond brow, that adorable dimple appearing in his cheek, and heat floods my face.
“Stop being”—hiccup—“an idiot.” I stumble into the room, place my things beside the bed, and lie down, trying my best to be quiet. Parker watches me from the doorway, relaxed against its frame with his arms crossed and one ankle hooked over the other.
“Okay, I’m going to sleep out here now. Goodnight,” he whispers.
“Parker,” I whisper-yell.
“Shh,” he says, glancing at Rose. “Okay. Just… keep it down.” He straightens and walks toward the bed and my heart rate escalates with each step, until his broad frame towers over me.
I shuffle over, and he lies on his back next to me. He tucks his hands under his head, eyes fixed on the ceiling. He takes up so much space, my back is flush against the wall for the both of us to fit without touching.
I study the profile of his face, the swell of his lips, his straight nose and dark blond lashes.
I trace his silhouette, the rise and fall of his chest. He must sense me staring again, because he turns his head toward me, our noses less than an inch apart.
His dilated pupils lock with mine, stealing my breath.
I’m suddenly one hundred times more sober.
My breathing quickens as I observe him. Even in his translucent state, tiny flecks of brown fill his amber eyes, and freckles spot his cheeks.
I focus on the freckle above his top lip and an image of my tongue sweeping across it, tasting him, flashes across my mind.
My pulse spikes, but I don’t break his unwavering stare.
He studies my features in turn, as if memorizing them. Under his penetrating stare, awareness ripples through my entire body, every skin cell scorching.
“You know, you never told me your favorite place,” I whisper, breaking the silence.
His mouth curves into a gentle, nostalgic smile.
“There was a beach I used to visit with my family. It was my favorite place in the world,” he says, his voice deep and soft.
“The dirt’s so red it bleeds into the sand, and it has these massive, red sandstone cliffs that hang over the ocean.
And the water is the most vivid, turquoise blue.
I’ll never forget the first time I saw you—that little wedge of color in your right eye.
” His gaze hasn’t left mine, tracing my features as he speaks.
“All I could see were those red rocks, jutting over the sea.” He shifts and places his transparent hand on top of mine. “God, I’ve missed you.”
I stare at his large hand resting over mine, yet I feel nothing. No weight or warmth. Only air, as if he isn’t touching me at all.
“It’s impossible,” I say.
A sad smile plays on his lips. “Another downside to losing my abilities and being in the wrong time.” His eyes lock with mine again. “But I’d give anything to touch you, one last time.”
Rose stirs in the bed beside us, partially rousing, and I swallow my reply.
My heart’s in overdrive, my fingers aching.
I’ve never wanted to touch anyone in my life more than in this moment.
Is it a cruel blessing that I can’t? I’ve dreamed of the warmth of Parker’s skin, the passion in his embrace.
Would it differ in real life? What would life be like at Neurovida with Parker’s younger self?
Am I accepting this bizarre fate? Giving up any hope of the normal life I’ve been fighting to create?
And if I do, when will that be? How many more nights will I have to wait until our times align?
I ignore the tiny voice of reason in the back of my mind, muddled by darkness and vodka, whispering that I’ll never throw it away—everything I’m working toward—to be a time traveler. That I can’t have Parker and a normal life.
But just for tonight, I’ll let myself pretend.
“Go to sleep, Ella,” Parker whispers, but his greedy gaze stays trained on me.
I’m unsure whether we lie there for minutes or hours, silently staring at one another, my heart pounding in my chest. But at some point I fall asleep, and when I wake, both Rose and the man from my dreams are gone.