"Cray."

"Hm?"

"Before we...well...earlier, there was something...wrong with you."

We had taken what we'd finished in the bedroom to continue in the shower, a place that in the past I hadn't found remotely erotic. In normal cases, and when I wouldn't have been so swept off my feet and feeling so...extremely attracted to someone, I wouldn't have done so much so soon. But here I was, standing next to a shirtless Cray in the bathroom, with just a small towel wrapped around me.

I was a different person from who I had been a short while ago. The girl who arrived here would never have allowed a guy to kiss her so much and so easily, never mind sleep with her at every given opportunity. Just thinking about what we had done three times now, made me blush and tingle. I wanted to be with him over and over again. I kept wanting him, even now, as I thought about it. I mean, what girl in her right mind wouldn't.

We were careful this time and used protection, but I had to admit I might have risked being careless just to be with him as close as possible. He was becoming addictive. The feelings he conjured up were out of this world. It was no wonder he likely had so many admirers begging for more of him. But that thought only made me afraid of how reckless he could make me, how self-conscious again. And I wondered if he was or had been comparing me to the others girls he'd slept with, whether I satisfied all his needs like they had or maybe more. I only knew from the way he reacted to my touch how difficult it was for him to contain himself. His reactions couldn't be faked, and neither could mine.

As for the headache from earlier, it was now more like a prick of pain between my eyes and temples. But everything still sounded above the level it should be. A brief whisper caused what felt like a brain seizure. Cray tried to speak quietly, but his voice was too deep not to rumble through my ears. And thinking back without reliving the tantalizing moments, I recalled how I'd found Cray in my room.

"Something wrong?" He frowned. I could tell by the way he was standing slanted that he was wary of asking me.

"When I found you in my room, Cray, you were sitting in the rocking chair."

He nodded.

"Your eyes were open, but you weren't awake. And they..."

His eyes turned a rare monochrome. I wondered what that meant. If it was a good thing or something dire for me to notice.

What was going on with him? I couldn't be imagining his eyes changing colors to every emotion he hid so well. I hadn't imagined him look hypnotized like he was sleepwalking last night. What was wrong with him? Did he have some kind of rare condition? I wasn't ready to ask just yet.

What bothered me the most right now was that I was likely to be okay with whatever it was, even if it was beyond human understanding.

"Your eyes were white...completely coated over like..." I couldn't think of a word to describe them.

Cray simply washed his hands at the sink. I pulled the towel from my shoulder and brought my hair over to one side to dry it.

I wasn't overly concerned about the discussion. If Cray didn't want to tell me too much yet, I didn't want to push him. I was just too curious to give in until he told me...something.
"And your skin, Cray..." I touched his arm as he rubbed soap between his hands. The action, I noted, was way too slow and deliberate.
"It was so white you looked..." I didn't want to say it.
He peered at me from under his wet lashes. His eyes were now a metaillic blue. He was so beautifully handsome it was hard to believe he once looked so...zombiefied.
"Dead?" he finished, not seeming to care.
"Well...drained, I guess, like you had no blood under your skin. Like you were...made from...salt rock."
"Salt rock?" He chuckled.
"Yes. Salt rock."
"And then what happened?" His voice was too casual, joking rather than being interested. He turned to me, shaking his wet hands.
"Then I shook you until you actually woke and saw me." I passed him the towel.
"What else?" he persisted with a jocular smile.
"And then...you pounced on me." I remained serious.
He licked his lips all too seductively. "And?"
"I think you know the rest."
I snatched back the towel. He mockingly frowned.

"Just forget it," I said coolly

"Forget what?"

I tsked and walked out of the bathroom, throwing the towel on the back of a chair as I sat and combed the knots out of my hair at the vanity table.
I tried not to look too much at myself. I looked kind of like salt rock, except blotchy and sallow, and in need of a facial.
Cray stepped up behind me and massaged my shoulders. I stopped brushing my hair and closed my eyes. He massaged well, as good as a fully trained masseuse. He knew just where to place his thumbs; his fingers hit the muscles that felt twisted.
"Sorry," he said. "I just don't know what you described could mean. I've never seen myself that way."
I let my head hang back until it pressed against his stomach. Even his face upside down took my breath away. But he wasn't smiling. He wasn't looking at me either, but ahead, into the vanity table mirror.
"Maybe I've exaggerated," I said. It didn't seem to fix his grave
expression. "I could have been dreaming again."
He smiled, trying to thank me silently for the attempt at explaining it. "Maybe," he said, contemplative.
I turned and put my arms around his waist, hooking my fingers onto the belt of his pants. "Let's not talk about the past so much. Let's just move on."
His smile became more flippant as he trailed his finger down my nose and onto my lips. "Sounds good to me."
I kneeled on the chair so I could put my arms around his neck. "Where would you like to start?" I asked, trying not to grin crazily.
"Ditching dinner?"
"You read my mind." I giggled. Me. Giggle
"No, I think you read mine." He winked, but for a second I thought he knew something about me I hadn't mentioned: that I could read people sometimes. At certain irrelevant times anyway. "Do you think Isobel will be angry if we do," I asked, trying to concentrate as he began
feather kissing me.
"She doesn't have to know," he breathed against my neck
"About us or missing the meal?" I was losing my concentration and my ability to stay upright.
"Both," he said, kissing me harder.
"I think she should know." A moan escaped.
"If you insist," he muttered against my lips.
"When the time's right," my voice shook
"Okay."
"When I'm feeling ready."
"Fine with me." He kissed my chest, causing shivers to ripple through me.
"Then that will be it." I said, lifting his head and kissing him back, and as usual, without a care for how fast we were moving. "It will be our new start."
~ * ~
I wanted to see Elandra, but decided going somewhere with Cray was a good enough excuse to delay facing something so daunting.
We were about to leave when Isobel recommended, well commanded, that we all have a good, home cooked, family lunch; a first.
It was clear she was back to showing me she wasn't overjoyed about us dating. Maybe she was worried I was going to get pregnant. Maybe like me, she was afraid of my trip being ruined even more than it had been. Things had only just started looking up. Had she heard everything?
The rest of the Lockes slept on the upper level. Surely they hadn't heard Cray and me being intimate. I suddenly felt awkward, especially after the conversation I had with Isobel on the porch last night. I didn't want to disrespect her by not at least trying to comply with what she asked. I just couldn't think of anything other than Cray when he was around and so close.
Isobel ordered our plates to be prepared and brought to the table. Syd put a reassuring hand on my shoulder as she placed my food on the table, smiling over at Cray with a seal of approval that didn't look all that honest.
The quick spreading news of our relationship was making me uneasy. It didn't look like the added attention was appealing to Cray, either. Zella and Gal continued to pay no attention to the fact that we were even sitting there, so that was good. Although Gal did look over at Cray once to mumble, "I pity the fool."
I was so used to his rudeness that it went over my head. The same couldn't be said for Cray. His hands balled into fists and he muttered, "Then just pity yourself."
Gal tore the meat off a lamb chop with his teeth. I pitied the girl that got lumbered with him, that was for sure.
Isobel told them to behave like she was eating with disobedient children, and then asked Zella to pass the salt. We ate in silence after that. Cray looked over at me every now and again, rolling his eyes or pretending to fall asleep. I had to stifle a laugh.
"Kellice called for you, Cray." Zella said, announcing, what sounded to me like useless information about an ex or friend. I hoped she was the latter. "She sounded eager to talk to you about, you know, the current situation."
Cray looked at Isobel whose concern had creased her forehead.
"I'll deal with it," was his flat response. He continued to eat while I wondered what needed dealing with. The way he avoided my glare at this point, I had a feeling he wasn't telling me something.
"Girls like Kellice are not susceptible to being replaced or disregarded," Isobel advised him as she adjusted the napkin on her lap, confirming my doubts.
"Like I said, I'll deal with it," Cray retorted.
"You can't just drop one girl for another one." Zella looked at me like something a cat had dug up and brought home.
"She's not my girlfriend," Cray gritted. "She never was and never will be." He looked at everyone. "So, quit with the mind games."
Zella shrugged. "Your funeral."
"HA! I want front seats," Gal high fived Zella.
I'd never seen him so happy.
"That will be quite enough," Isobel said, returning our attention back to our meal. The company and conversation had made mine tasteless.
~ * ~
Later that day, Cray and I managed to go out for dinner to one of his favorite places out of town: The Delabon. It was expensive and prestigious, with a crowd-pleasing eminence that would have attracted any local celebrities.
It was definitely to my fashionable liking; chic and classic, all the way down to the décor and the waiters with burgundy bow ties and matching waistcoats. Even the serviettes were folded like origami; the cutlery was spotless and chromed to a silver white finish.
I felt chaste but moderate next to the fine upholstery and carved ice statues. The violinists playing some wistful and romantic melody as we dined. It was a lot grander than I imagined, classier than the Ritz. And the food was delicious like Cray had promised.
My poached salmon with lemon dressing had been cooked to perfection. My lemonade tasted more like a hint of summer fruits sun drenched in a French vineyard.
A thorough description wanted to roll off my tongue to create a vision to escape to. It wasn't that I wanted to escape my meal with Cray. I wouldn't have missed it for the world, not for a Vivien Westwood or Christian Lacroix launch party in Madrid. Those were expendable if it came to that decision, since it was crucial I got to know Cray as much as possible before my flight back to Salt Lake City. Something that was going to be painstakingly difficult.
But I had to face that it was going to happen; that I was going to have to leave and remember everything I had learned from Cray about relationships, about finding someone you wanted to connect with in every way.
I was still trying to pluck up the courage to ask what kind of relationship he had with Kellice. Why everyone seemed against Cray and me being together. Maybe Isobel had warned him not to get me pregnant. How embarrassing. I wondered if he knew about the curse, and what he thought if he did; if he believed it.
"Are you okay?" Cray sliced into his rare cooked steak and caramelized onions.

I wanted to swap plates, minus the blood juices. But I had my weight to watch now that I was dating a heartthrob and all. I was having to outstare to every female old enough to ogle him, including the wheelchair bound elderly. It was tiring work.
"Fine. Why do you ask?" My poached fish crumbled in my mouth.
"Your mind seems somewhere else." He stopped eating to hold my hand across the table, giving me instant tingles. His dark long lashes created shadows on his impressive high cheekbones.
"I was thinking about leaving," I admitted.
"Now?" his voice rose an octave.
"No." I smiled to console his panic. I had been testing him and his attention. He wasn't noticing any of the women eying him like candy. It was safe to say I had him all to myself for the moment. "I meant my flight back home."
He didn't say anything for a while, just drank his juice. "We've plenty of time," he said unevenly.
"I know. I'm just not looking forward to it. I mean I would miss...some people, but I'm only just getting to know you."
He smiled at that. "You can always come back."
I wiped the corners of my mouth with a napkin and drank some of my lemonade. "So, you're fine about me leaving?"
"No," his response was blunt, almost angry. He quickly flashed another mesmerizing smile. "You could stay here. You know that's what Mother wants."
He lifted my hand from the table and looked at it, stroking a thumb across my knuckles; my skin tingled everywhere he touched. Then again, it did even when he wasn't touching me. It just intensified when he did. He licked his lips, maybe contemplating the same things as me. Things that involved us entwined, mouth to mouth, and very naked.
He frowned. "What's really bothering you?
So he could tell. I really was that readable. "I'm just being silly."
"About what?"
"Nothing much."
He placed my hand down and brushed his over the top before moving it back to his plate. It kicked started my heart into overdrive. I sipped more of my drink to calm down.
"If you're worrying about who Kellice is, there's no need," he said practically under his breath. "She's just a friend. Besides, she'll be gone soon. She's moving away." He scoped the room like he was waiting for her to appear.
Why did he sound so guilty of something whenever he, or anyone else, mentioned her name?
"If there's nothing between you, there shouldn't be a problem with us seeing her." My voice was escalating. Jealousy had a sneaky way of making you sound like a chipmunk. This was all new to me: being immensely attracted to a guy, needing his attention, his approval, hoping he wouldn't leave. I couldn't start to show traces of being needy. It would likely push him away, not pull him to me.
He cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair.
Waiters rushed around our table, peeking at our full plates, contemplating a time to step in and ask if we were happy with the meal.

I was jealous if I was to be totally honest. But I needed a clarification from Cray. I needed to know that whatever he might have had with Kellice, was completely over with, done and dusted, and closed for the foreseeable future. I needed to protect myself.
He wouldn't look at me as he spoke. "There's nothing between us, Crys. She's just a friend. A friend that had wanted to be more, but hasn't."
"Can you look at me when you talk about her?"
He did, reluctantly. His eyes were a smoldering brown and making my insides quiver in the way I could do without right now.
"I don't want to be with Kellice," he said with a great diligence, intent on making it believable, even if it was possible it wasn't. I had been careless to have let him do so much with me so soon. It was another first and hopefully the last mistake I would make with someone.
"Have you slept with her?" I asked nonchalantly. I couldn't look him in the eye.
"No," he answered, picking up his knife and fork to continue eating. I did the same.
"I don't think you would tell me anyway."
He peered up. "I would tell you anything you needed to know, Crys." "Anything you think I needed to know, you mean."
"No. Anything you had to know."
I needed to quit sounding so whiney. "Then you would tell me if there was more to it?"
"Yes."
I shrugged. Jealousy also made you immature.
"I'm with you because I actually want to be," he added.
I shrugged again.
He sighed. "I haven't been a..." he lowered his voice, "saint, but now that I've found you, that life is behind me. I swear."
"But how about those relationships?"
"Relationships?" he scoffed. "They could hardly be called that."
"How many were there exactly?"
He sighed again. I decided he did it too much "Is it really that important?" "To me, yes."
"Why?"
"Because I need to know. It's a part of who you are. How you date. It's your track record and now it looks like I'm going to be a part of it. I have a right to know how this could end."
He leaned forward. I tried not to pout, which would have been another first. The list was getting longer.
"Are you worried I'm going to dump you in two weeks?" I could hear the amusement in his voice.
"I might be finding out."
He laughed, bringing the attention of other diners who acted like they'd never discussed fidelity in public.
"The reason why they lasted two weeks was because of you," he said, incredulous to my comment.
"That's a lie," I said, a fizzing warmth filling me.
"It's true. And you know it."
"You're so smug, Cray Locke."
"And you're somehow all the more beautiful when you're angry."
I rolled my eyes. "That was so corny."

"Well, you've made me that way." "Fine, blame me."
"How about I have one back."
"What?"
"A compliment."
"Haven't I given you one already?"
"No, and it wasn't corny, as you nicely put it."
I felt stupid now for not accepting his compliment. I wanted it. I just wasn't used to it coming from someone I was attracted to.
"So?" he asked.
"So, nothing. You must get plenty of compliments to keep your ego boosted."
"I'd still like one from you."
"So you can make fun of me?"
"No. So I can hear what you think." "That's just lame, Cray." I tried not to blush.
"So?" he persisted.
"You're incredible." I shook my head. The tip of his shoe touched mine under the table and sent shivers coursing through me, exploding tingles in my stomach. I was getting too affected by him in public.
"That's one." He smirked, multiplying the tingles.
"I meant as in you're full of yourself." "Am I right to be?"
"What do you think?"
"I don't know. That's why I'm asking." "Okay, if you must know, you can be annoying."
He nodded in agreement.
"You mash your food."
He looked at the partially mashed contents of his plate, surprised to find I was right.
"You bite your bottom lip too much." He stopped biting it.
"And your pinky finger needs to touch the glass when you drink something." He was doing it as I spoke, and corrected himself.
"Is that it?" he asked, his flirty mood gone.
"For now." I folded my arms and stared at him. He looked away first, seeming actually upset as he tried not to bite his bottom lip.
I had belittled him to make him feel inferior. I suppose I wanted him to sound like a person with as many emotional flaws as I had, and I wanted to keep hidden. I wanted to feel his equal, but I'd gone too far in keeping to the truth. Besides, I loved all those things about him. Yet I made them sound like a problem. An inadequacy.
I had been mean, someone too insecure to see I was bringing someone down to my level. How was he going to want to be with me now, when I didn't live up to what he may have expected? How could I reassure him that he seemed perfect in every way?
"You have a way of reaching me like no one else," I began nervously. "It's like I evolve around you and your emotions." He pretended not to listen.

I had to get to his physical attributes. I gulped and drank all of my lemonade. I filled another glass from the bottle and downed that too. It was a good thing it wasn't alcohol. I wasn't good with compliments. Not even with someone who had a lot to be appreciated. I was weary of sounding infatuated, especially in this situation
Before I could continue, he called over the waiter and asked for the bill, even asked a variety of boring questions and gave his opinion on the choice of music. It had to be a way to keep me from talking.
When the waiter walked away with a big smile on his face, Cray shot up. "Cray, let me finish."
I reached for him, but he mumbled something before walking away to what I presumed was the restroom.
As I waited for him to return, I thought about what I could say to make him feel better, what compliments I could give him. But it might have been too late. I had dug nasty nails in too deep. He was scarring, becoming infected by the hurt. Maybe no one had ever said anything about him to that effect.
I needed to take back what I'd said, but I didn't have a time machine to do it. I needed to correct my mistake before he mistook me for someone else, someone who wasn't falling for him too fast. It had been a while when he returned, carefree as if he was here alone. He stopped by the
table and picked up the black book the waiter had left, filled it with notes from his wallet and a hefty tip, and then flapped the book shut. Cray didn't work while he studied, but Isobel made sure his pockets were brimming. It was why he had a flashy sports car. I suppose that was how she showed him her affection.
A waiter returned just in time to take it from his hands. He smiled my way and bent down to kiss my hand, much like he had when I arrived. He even handed me a single red rose as a way of saying thank you. I was getting more action from the waiter than Cray
"Are you ready?" Cray asked, halfheartedly.
I pushed back my chair and got up. Cray wasn't bothering to help me out of it, considering he had helped me in. I followed him to the exit. Onlookers whispered as I tried to dodge hurrying diners dressed in Anne Sui and Chanel. I admired some others in Ghost or Fendi. If I had known where Cray was taking me, I would have dusted off my Yohji Yamamto dress to stand out. It was one of the few rip off extravagances I had saved up for.
When the valet brought over the car, Cray got in without opening my door for me. I stayed outside, waiting to see if he would notice I wasn't getting in.
It took a while, and people were beginning to stare. Another valet asked me if I was lost. Minutes later, Cray stepped out and slammed the door shut behind him. "Are you coming or not?"
"No." I crossed my arms.
"Why not?"
"Because I need to talk to you."
"Can't we talk in the car?"
"No. You're angry and I need to speak to you without any distractions. You drive like a maniac as it is."
I was insulting him again.
Why were relationships so difficult? Couldn't we just find everything amusing and interesting? Couldn't it be simple mathmatics.

He slumped himself on the back of his car and crossed his legs, keeping his hands in his pockets as a way to tell me he wasn't feeling sociable.
"First of all, I'm not angry," he said, before I could speak. "Just..." He huffed. "Never mind."
I stepped closer so nobody could hear what I was about to say. Not that I was ashamed. I
was proud of how I felt about him. I just didn't want to possibly humiliate him in front of all these people.
He was looking down at the ground, behaving like he was unworthy of being eye to eye with me, like he was an abysmal person or something. It made me see how much he cared about what I thought of him. It meant I had to say it solely from the heart.
"I know all of your habits because I've looked for them. And they're your qualities, not your downfall. They single you out from the rest of the world that seems mediocre next to you." I released a breath I hadn't known I had been holding. "I'm no good at this because I've never met anyone who stands out so much. You're...so much more than just...a handsome face."
He bit his lip, his cheeks turned pink.
"I can't think of words to describe how attractive you are to..." I looked around me. "Practically everyone around you."
"I don't care about any of them," he cut in with one of his deep frowns.
"You feel unreal to me, Cray," I added before I lost my nerve. "It's like I'm dreaming you, and I'm afraid you're going to disappear."
The pink in his face deepened. It was the only way for me to know if I was doing it right. "And you make me feel like I can do anything, but at the same time, feel like I might be a failure." "Seriously?"
I nodded. I was surprised by that one too. "Why? I don't want you to ever feel a failure."
"Because you're too good to be true. It's a cliché, but you are."
"A cliché?" He raised a brow.
"A big fat cliché."
"And that's a good thing?" He sounded afraid of my answer.
"Are you kidding? It's amazing. It means you're hard to find. Sometimes even impossible."
His frowned deepened, all the more confused.
"I told you I'm not good at this."
"I think I get it." He grinned, standing up to hug me.
His heart was beating fast. It could only mean it had worked. He believed me. He understood.
The valet left and Cray kissed me for a very long time. Maybe to keep me quiet.
I wasn't going to complain.