Isobel was sitting behind her desk.

I crossed the room and sat opposite her, waiting for her to finish reading the headlines of today's newspaper. She crumpled it up and threw it into the waste bin. There mustn't have been much to read about. I couldn't imagine there being anything for journalists to report.

Isobel smiled, but I could tell she wanted to get straight to it. "So, how was your day with Cray?"

"Edu-cational."

"Anything else?" She rifled through her open drawer.

"Interesting."

"There must be more you can say." She smirked. "You were alone?"

"Yes."

"In Sky Meadows. Enjoying the festivities of Memorial Day?"

"That's right." I didn't know she planned on describing what I was doing yesterday. Did she think I was sleepwalking?

"Did you have the picnic I arranged?" she asked.

I should have known that was her doing.

"Yes."

"And you are not willing to elaborate?" She clasped her hands beneath her chin and stared at me defiantly, daring me to divulge.

"We ate and drank some wine, Isobel. Why are you asking me all of this?"

I began to wonder why she was fine with us drinking alcohol, even going as far as to encourage it. But I thought better than to ask. Maybe some rich people liked to bend the rules and have their children and underage relatives become early alcoholics. I also didn't want her to stop me from openly drinking. I needed it sometimes.

"Did he behave?" she asked, ignoring my first question.

"I guess so."

"And how did he behave exactly?"

"Like him."

"How would you describe...him?"

I didn't understand where the intrusive conversation was going.

"He's..." I tried to think of a polite, but truthful way to describe his bull headed arrogance. "Confident."

She shook her head and picked up a pencil to sharpen. "He can be a good, kind, and wholesome young boy, Crystal. I need you to be aware of that." I wasn't sure who she was trying to convince.

"I can see it's there," I said truthfully.

She gave up on the pencil and shot me one of her startled looks, the one that told me I was to only tell the truth or bear one of her religious speeches.
"May I ask you something, Crystal? And please, do be honest."

"Sure." I had a feeling I was going to regret replying so fast.

"Tell me, what were you both discussing?"

"Who?" I asked.

"Why, you and Cray, of course. What were you discussing at the picnic?"

"I can't really remember."

"Try and think."

I did, delving into every aspect I could admit to without blushing away my secret crush. "Um...well we-"

"Go on," she urged.

"We, I asked, no I think he came to the conclusion-"

"That you were interested in being more than friends? Relatives?" She was standing beside me now, waiting for me to continue with her hands at her chest.

"Uh, no. I don't think so." My face heated. She looked pleased to be aware of feelings that couldn't be concealed without a paper bag over my head.

"Did you hurt his feelings?" She walked over to a book shelf.

"No. I don't think so."

"Did he hurt yours?" She turned, her piercing, cat-like eyes searched mine.

"No," was my quick response, and one I proclaimed as the truth, even if in reality it was a downright lie.

"That's good." She smiled, so wide I could see her back teeth. But it just as quickly vanished behind a grim line of lips. "However, I must remind you of your position within this household, Crystal," she said. "It is one of platonic virtue. One must not force the other to abstain from that."

"But -"

"You are a good girl, raised without constraint, but with your own humility. A quality I see you have developed naturally from your mother."

"My mother?"

Had Cray told her what happened? Had he made it seem like I had made a move on him? How could he? Why the little...

"Yes, your mother was very discreet in her actions, always the chased and not the pursuer of affection."

"But I -"

"No, please let me finish, darling. It is within my right to protect you from any disappointments. I need to guard you from any foolishness due to your vulnerability." She sighed and returned to her chair. The small clock on her desk ticked annoyingly during the silence as I considered a way of expressing my verdict on her assumptions.

She may have been right to call my unvoiced feelings foolish. But I didn't chase. And I never would have chased anyone for their affection, even if I desperately wanted it.

"Isobel, you have this all wrong. It's overstated with ambiguous remarks." I tried to throw in a big word of my own, even though I knew it was added in the wrong context. "And as for pursuit. I wouldn't chase your son if he was the last person on Earth. He's too rude and obnoxious." I felt better already for being honest. Partly.

She listened patiently, her expression revealing nothing in return.

"He may be good looking," I continued. "But his attempt at a conversation falls flat." I had to hold back adding that I tended to admire him regardless.

Her lips twitched into a smirk.
Was she finding the insults amusing?
"Cray, darling. We were just discussing you."

Heavy footsteps entered the room, stopping just behind my chair. My heart thumped. I kept thinking about his hands on me, his lips moving against mine; his tongue in my mouth; definitely his tongue in my mouth.

I could taste the remnants of nicotine and wine as soon it registered, then realized the scent must have been coming from where he was standing so close to me. I tried not to inhale too deeply and make it obvious I was enjoying it. That would have been just plain weird. I couldn't let the Lockes know I was getting weirder than they had already probably guessed I was.

"Cray, we were just discussing your day together," Isobel said. "I'm afraid Crystal declares a very different version of events."

"She can declare it how she likes." If he had been listening this whole time, he didn't sound all that angered considering I'd made him sound like a jackass. Maybe slightly miffed, but definitely not hostile.

I breathed out a sigh of relief, trying to stop remembering Cray pressed against me, his hands twined in my hair. It was making my pulse race. I must have been turning red, since Isobel raised one of her thin eyebrows at me. "Perhaps you will do much better next time," she remarked.

Next time? Was she kidding?

"We're heading out to the filled pool. I thought Crystal might like to join us," Cray mumbled.

Who were we?

I made myself look at him to be sure it was Cray and not somebody else asking me to join him in a partially naked interaction. He kept his gaze on Isobel. Good.

She seemed thrilled by the idea. But what happened to platonic virtue? Not chasing those not wishing to be chased? The invitation hardly seemed to agree with either of those terms, which were, up until a few minutes ago, were priorities on the list of her objections. Or was I reading too much into it? It was just a swim, not a date.

But Cray and I had kissed. It was something I would only have allowed a date to do. It was too late to regret my actions. It was useless convincing myself I regretted behaving so differently with Cray and allowed it to happen, because I had wanted it to happen again, very soon, many times, everyday, all day and forever if I was to get carried away.

"Yes, what a constructive idea," Isobel said, over pleased by his announcement. Her eyes, however, were telling him something else. Giving him a warning? A threat? No. Maybe encouragement?

Whatever it was, he listened. He was turning his head to look at me. I prepared myself for the moment our eyes would lock and see the pros and cons against the swim, in doing anything that would leave us potentially alone and slipping into an embrace that would make it harder for me to forget him.

Yet, our eyes didn't meet. They didn't even bounce back a reflection. He kept his eyes on the tip of my nose.

"We'll be outside." It was barely uttered. "And ..." His gaze fell to Isobel then back to me: at my eyes this time. His were unfocused and downcast, a troubled gray, burdened by the overshadowing tone. It upset me to see him so...tormented. "Maybe we can catch a movie after the swim," he added, but the words sounding strangled compared to his usual tantalizing voice.

It wasn't flattering. Although his mood stone-like eyes still made my heart skip a beat. And in my mind, he was touching me, moaning against my mouth, panting out of breath as I had.

I became hot and tingly from the recollection; my stomach dipped. "I'll think about it," I managed.

He grimaced, becoming his usual self; his eyes churned green.

Isobel's glare was kind of icy, possibly verging on outraged. But at whom?

Cray's stiff stance slackened. He left the room in a sort of daze.

All the while, Isobel kept her eyes on his back, squinting, seeming not to trust him. And it made me wonder.
When had a loyalty toward someone changed?

~ * ~

Cray had been gone for two days. As far as I knew, he never attended the swim that day. I hadn't attended either. Nobody ever mentioned him.
I decided to keep busy by figuring out a way to research my ancestry. I turned down every offer from Zella and Isobel to go shopping or the movies. I had to, even though I still came up with nothing from my attempts to find some morsel of a truth about the women in my family.

When it came to Cray, I decided it was best if I tried to forget our moment. I decided I shouldn't look too much into it. It wasn't a big deal. He hadn't disappeared because of me. I had to assure myself of that countless times of the day.

And when I heard his deep, rumbling voice from the driveway that late Friday afternoon, I darted for the French doors, acting on impulse.
He was talking to Gal by his Jaguar, and like always, my breath caught at the sight of him. Cray turned and slammed the car door closed. His usual tanned skin was pallid, almost yellow. It concerned me how unwell he looked.

He gripped the front peaks of his hair when Gal leaned in close to say something. Cray seemed disturbed by something. It was wrong of me to still admire him. It was wrong of me to still find him so immensely attractive. It was definitely wrong of me to worry about him, more so to still crave his attention, his lips on mine.

I went back to my bed and forced myself to read a book. A knock on my door moments later startled me. I hesitantly answered it, finding Cray in the hallway, the person I'd hoped it would be. His hair was mussed and his eyes were less stern than usual. He was in a crumpled white shirt and black pants. As he stepped forward, I froze, feeling entranced.

His hands pressed against the doorframe, barricading me from making a swift exit. But I had no plans to leave now that I had him all to myself.

He cleared his throat and I blinked, horrified at how I had been gawking. He seemed just as uncomfortable by it, perhaps even confused by my acute interest. Had he never looked in the mirror?

I chose to react in the way I normally would have with the opposite sex: emotionally detached.

"What do you want?" I asked, trying to sound affronting, yet my gaze dropped to the floor.

"I think it's time we talked," he said, all dreamy and husk.

"Talked?" I cringed at the way I sounded half-elated.

"I think it's overdue." His smooth, caressing voice had a way of waking a part of me once asleep, the intelligent side of me less wary, but the naive side all the more gullible. I blinked a few times to respond as me and not the person he made me become. "I have nothing to say to you, Cray." My heart pounded harder. I hadn't fully admitted it, but ever since meeting him, his name had become imprinted to my mind. It was all I could mostly see when it wasn't his face. Saying it out loud made me feel vulnerable, but somehow free at the same time, like his name was the secret code to making me happy. The sound of it on my lips gave me the most tantalizing tingles; the echo of it in my head warmed me from the inside. It was probably why I reacted this way to a near stranger. It was the only reason, other than his model good looks, I could give myself.

"I have plenty I need to say to you." His voice was coarse, possibly with anger at my stubbornness. I felt some kind of victory. It was about time I affected him. And I couldn't help but be intrigued by what he had to tell me. He didn't seem a person of many words, not with me anyway. For him to admit he wanted to talk, and plenty of it, was a sure way to make someone unwisely crushing on him to leap at the chance.

"Where did you have in mind?" I said, as evenly as I could.

"I was hoping we could take a walk." His voice was far from even. After what happened on our last kind of walk, I was glad he at least doubted my answer being a yes.

"...I don't think that's a good idea."

He leaned forward. I breathed in his spicy cologne mixed with cigarette smoke and secretly enjoyed it.

"I won't be offhand," he said, his voice all the more huskier. "I just need to talk, explain a few things."

I risked a glance at him. Out of the shadows, he was pale and withdrawn. The skin around his eyes was faintly dark as if he hadn't slept in a while. They seemed sorrowed, and desperate for me to say yes.

Without giving myself time to think about the consequences, I broke my defense and blurted, "Okay."

He smiled, or maybe it was a grimace, I couldn't quite tell. He was probably against how easily I caved in as well.
He let out a long sigh.

"Are you ready?"

I nodded, letting him lead the way.

~ * ~

My hand seemed to have a mind of its own. It wanted to reach out to him, even if it wasn't supposed to. But Cray wanted to talk, a major first.

The blossom tree on top of the hill felt like the ideal place to sit and talk. I might have needed a scenic surrounding to calm me. And although Cray had spoken little since we left the house, I wanted to bring more out of him like he had practically promised.

We sat and I looked up at the sky turning a slate gray. The woods became a smudge of black. It was just the late afternoon, but daylight was somehow minimal.

I kept hoping it wouldn't rain as Cray gazed into the woods, his eyes concentrating on something in particular. I chose to ask the question that had been on my mind the most.

"Why did you kiss me if you didn't want to?"

The instant pinch above the bridge of his nose told me something perhaps twisted into the tightest knot in his chest.

"Why did you push me away?" I went on bravely.

Still silence.

"Okay. Well, if you can't tell me why yet, maybe you can at least tell me why you left and disappeared for so long?"

He inhaled a deep breath. "I thought it would be best. I still do."

"Then why are you here now?"

"I didn't say I wanted to leave." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "The fact that you're even talking to me after the way I behaved, makes you an exceptional person, Crystal."

The way he said my name again with deep-rooted meaning gave me the shivers in a good way. I closed my eyes for a few seconds, focusing on making it stop.

"Compliments won't make me forgive you that easily," I teased to lighten the mood. He kneaded the grass, lost in thought.

I delayed asking my next question. I wanted this private moment to last a little longer than the previous time he initiated talking to me. But I got the feeling he was relieved by it, so we talked about everything and anything that came to mind to diffuse the tension.

He told me he was taking extra performing arts lessons. It was safe to say he had the movie star looks down to a T, as well as a face that could grace the silver screen and dine at the Ivy or the Chateau Marmont. I wasn't about to tell him he had that kind of potential; wooden acting or not, I was sure he knew how much he was far from average.

When the conversation moved onto a deeper level, casual but definitely friendly, he told me how he had once owned a dog named Cromford when he was five and how he had his tonsils out at seven, how he had his first crush on a girl with buck teeth when he was ten. He even told me how he had been skiing in the Alps, not camping in Vermont, last fall, which had been a well devised plan to make Isobel call him less, or not at all.

His confiding in me only made me all the more aware of him, my heightened spirits bounced like a mad ping pong ball. Still, my heart beat easier, connecting with the trees that seemed to hum from behind me. I wondered if he felt it. If he felt as whole around nature, if he somehow felt my spirit moving through the rustle of leaves to reach out and touch him, even for just a second. It didn't matter now why he kissed me and pushed me away, all that mattered was that he was changing, and for the better, and that eventually, when he was ready, he could explain. I knew he had to have a valid reason for his distance. I always had.

Eventually, his easygoing way of conversing gave me the courage to tell him about myself, including my time at the group homes, my fateful meeting with my best friend, Sal, at one of my foster placements, how she had recently gotten engaged to start a new life in Florida. I even told him how my love for art had shaped my goals to pursue a career in fashion, and talked about my part-time job at the bookstore, and of course, Jared and T.J. Usually, I wouldn't have revealed so much so early in any relationship. Not that I had previous experience wanting a boy enough to have considered it.

"I'm sorry about your folks," he muttered. "That mustn't have been easy." He leaned his shoulder against mine. Not too much, but enough to make me zing all over. "If it's any consolation, I haven't had any real parents. Mother isn't what you can call the most affectionate, and as you probably know, my father died when I was five."

I knew now why I could tell Cray was the type who needed his independence, how he was someone who steered his own destiny and crafted his own way without a helping hand or a pat on the back. He stood strong on his own because that was who he counted on: himself.

Learning about Cray's life also put mine into perspective. It wasn't necessary to have parents to have a happy childhood. In some cases it wasn't all it was cracked up to be. It sounded like I had a better upbringing than Cray. I had nobody to feel disconnected with. I only hurt myself.

I was quite fortunate in a weird way. Guilt gnawed at me for always thinking that I wasn't. "But Isobel cares," I insisted.

"I know. We just have a hard time showing it."

I nodded, understanding. "I'm glad you had at least one decent parent." I said, playing with a piece of thread fraying on my top when he began staring at me.

"I'm not going to lie to you," he said.

I looked up. His eyes were dull, yet still magnetic. It took all my strength to look away. As for what he was about to say, it made me tremble, my shoulders tense. Zella had told about his dating track record, but I wasn't ready for him to tell me himself. Maybe keeping his distance would have made things less complicated.

"My relationships haven't lasted more than a couple of weeks," he added, his voice just as sad.

I was still repeating the word relationships, in my mind. Hoping he meant nothing beyond first base.

"With you, it feels...different, though," he said, his voice rough with an emotion I couldn't fathom, perhaps just sad regret. "I don't know. Maybe if you gave me half a chance I would experience something...lasting."

I blinked a few times, wondering if I was imagining everything.

"The moment I dreamed of you, I knew what was missing in my life, and always would be," he said, all too quietly to himself.

"Me?" I gasped.

He smiled bashfully.

I was shocked. Was I really causing an effect on him? I could admit I was pretty. My exotic, half Spanish looks had often been admired. But I never would have considered myself in Cray's league. Guys that seemed as visually perfect as him didn't seem real enough to enter your life.

Suddenly, no one else existed and time stood still. All that was left to feel important was him and what he was about to say.

He picked at the grass, or what was left of the patch beside him. "I've dreamed of you since I was a child, Crys." His smile lifted to become all the more prominent, causing the dimple I had missed to appear.

Had he noticed he had shortened my name? My heart thumped so hard I could hear it. I tried to breathe to slow it down so that I could hear the rest of what he had to tell me.

"I was eleven when you first appeared." His eyes glazed over with the memory. "Your hair was violet and streaked with yellow. Your eyes were gold with hints of blue. I could see right through them, into your mind. You were always willing to share with me, yet careful not to give away too much"

I wasn't sure why he dreamed of me that way. It was exactly the way I had envisioned myself in some dreams. I wasn't sure what it could mean, either. But I recalled the beings Elandra had described, how they had looked in my dreams as a child. They had colorful hair. Maybe Cray had heard the story throughout childhood and it had been reflected in his dreams. It still didn't explain how I dreamed it, or how he knew how I looked.

"What did my mind tell you?" I asked, confused and excited. He cleared his throat.

"That you felt different, incomplete. And were unaccepted. I understood."

"What does this mean? Are you...psychic?"

He laughed; the sound was literally music to my ears. "I don't think so, though maybe I'm just linked to you in some way."

That conclusion seemed to please him more than me. I wanted us to have more than just a link. His smile was relaxed, carefree, even whimsical. "But I'll probably ruin every expectation you have of me."

"You won't." I felt certain. "Not if you always talk to me like this and tell me how you feel."

"I don't think I deserve your patience." The glint in his eyes was no longer strong and identifiable. He frowned. "Why are you so willing to forgive me?"

I needed only a second to reply. "Because I know you'll be worth it."

He lowered his gaze with another shy smirk. "I knew in time you would appear, Crys. I knew you existed. I just couldn't face you yet."

It wasn't an off chance now. Cray was shortening my name, making us more acquainted. A smile brimmed on my lips, wanting to spread wider, prouder.

"It's f-fine," I stuttered.

"I can't promise you anything," he answered, his glumness returning.

"I'm not asking you to."

"Then what are you asking of me?"
His eyes lifted cautiously to mine.

"I just want you to let me get to know you."

The bridge of his nose pinched like before, he seemed to be struggling with that one simple request. Was it really too much to ask?

"I might disappoint you."

I never would have guessed he would be so insecure. I doubted it was because of me, but that same egotistical side of me was yelling that it was.

"You won't." I wasn't surprised by my certainty, only him.

"I hope not." He smiled. "I hope you never regret me." His hand rested on mine. I pulsated against his touch, warming against the incredible softness of his skin gliding up to my shoulders before stroking the length of my arm.

Goosebumps rose like imbedded seeds on my skin. I warmed beneath the surface as his hand reached my hand again, circling my palm and gliding his thumb to the end of my index finger. There he paused, barely touching the end of my thankfully manicured fingernail. He flipped my hand over to inspect every inch of my diamante encrusted nails, smoothing his thumb over each one before turning away to stand.

I took the moment to retrieve my breath, swallow hard before I said something I'd regret. He ran his hands through his hair, or maybe he was tearing at it. Whatever he was doing, it looked painful.

I placed my hand on his shoulder. He actually flinched. "I shouldn't have said those things." His voice sounded distant, empty. "It was wrong of me to initiate all this."

"But-"

"I think it's time you went back." His breathing was ragged, like he was finding it difficult to speak.

"I'll go back to the house when I'm good and ready," I retorted, coming back from the feelings he inappropriately brought out of me.

"I mean home to Utah. Go and don't come back. It'll be for the best."

Why did it hurt me so much to hear him change so suddenly and say that? Why did it puncture through me and tear at my heart like it would stop beating? Like I would rather end than go back home and never see him again?

This was all too much, too soon, even for someone who had once believed they had been dealt one the hardest lesson of all and come out displaced of reason, but stronger. There had been no suicide attempts, no living on the edge. Yet here I was, wanting to give in, perish along with the piece of me that was falling apart every time he pushed me away. "You...don't mean that. You said -"

"How many times do I have to tell you? You don't know anything. Not what you should." The muscles of his arms tensed as he tightened his fists.
I bit my lip to keep the tears from falling. I felt sick, tormented by too many mixed feelings that couldn't be washed away. I couldn't just leave. I had to bring him back to the way he was only moments ago. I had to make him...mine. Please, Cray, I thought. Please, don't leave me, not like this.

As if he'd heard my internal begging, he turned and faced me. He brushed back my hair and fingered my lips. He was listening, sensing somehow that I needed him. He was coming back to me. I couldn't describe my relief.
I dared myself to look at him, see if his eyes held any meaning to how he could make me feel so alive and happy. He peeled away any ability to detach myself from the hungry stroke of his hands now roaming my body like they owned every part of me. I felt ready and eager to allow him inside, to find me like I'd never wished to be found by anyone before now.

I closed my eyes and allowed the wet warmth of his tongue to lick my lips. He moaned my name, tugged on my bottom lip with his teeth and kissing me with as much vigor. It made me light headed, weak as I fell against him. He encased me in his strong arms.

I held him back. I wanted to show him I didn't want him to ever let go of me, not in this lifetime or the next. The taste of him, his touch, his warmth was what I wanted. It was what I needed and yearned to be repeated. I didn't want it to ever come to an end. I didn't want it to take away these desires that were healing me. It was too powerful of a solution, and much simpler than I thought life could be.
And for once, I felt certain of its worth, for once I wanted to stop pretending I was alright.

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