Elemental Awakened by Helen Scott
4
Tessa
When I’d gone back to work after what I was now referring to in my head as “the incident,” Cait had sensed something was wrong. My boss was more than a little observant. It was what made her so good at her job. She noticed the details, picked up on things that people or her clients weren’t saying, and was able to give them more than what they expected because of it.
“Are you ready for tonight?” Cait asked in a singsong voice as she rolled over to my tiny desk in her oversized office chair. When you spent as much time in it as she did, you wanted comfort above all else. I got that, but did it have to make the chair so damn big? She had a small office space at best, and the two of us sharing it with her chair was rough.
I spun in my tiny chair as much as I could and asked, “What’s tonight?”
“Uh, your date with Paul! The cute programmer I set you up with?” Cait’s voice sounded pained as she reminded me of the event that I’d completely blocked from my mind.
“Oh right, that,” I replied. My tone clearly told her what I thought of the situation.
“It’s been forever since you went out with someone. You’re young, you should be playing the field, sowing those wild oats and all that.”
“Yeah, but I just don’t want to.” I sighed as we began the familiar dance of this conversation once again.
“It’ll do you good to get out there, and this is already set up. All you have to do is show up,” she said as she spread her hands to each side like it was the easiest thing in the world. “It’s just a drink or two, nothing major like dinner, just to see if you hit it off.”
I could almost guarantee we wouldn’t.
“You know, I thought this might happen, so I bought a couple things for you. No pressure or anything, but just in case you wanted to use them.”
My suspicious nature flared to life, and I asked, “What things, Cait?”
“Just some makeup,” she began and then mumbled, “and maybe a dress and a nice top.”
“So you want to dress me up like a doll to go and have drinks with a guy I don’t want to?” I asked incredulously.
“I just don’t want you to miss out on being young, is that so bad?” she asked, giving me her best puppy dog eyes. the ones she knew I wouldn’t refuse. The thing about Cait was she’d always looked past the weird shit in my life. If she caught me sketching a dragon, she knew I’d get it out of my system and then be back to work like nothing had ever happened. She also knew that I was willing to work twice as hard to make up for it, which none of my old bosses ever saw.
I’d lost multiple jobs and opportunities because I came off as weird and distracted, when really, I was just having a hard time not staring at the dragon that was prancing around the office or wherever. Most managers weren’t as forgiving as Cait, but then, I guessed that was one of the luxuries of owning your own company. Though I swear I’d never heard her talk about anything other than work, so there were downsides as well. It was that thought that had me relenting.
Cait wanted me to have fun, to relax and enjoy my youth, something that she seemed to regret not doing. After everything she’d done for me, all the hours of personal training and coaching on my design skills, I didn’t want to disappoint her by refusing something so simple. I could go and have a drink with some guy. It wouldn’t be the end of the world.
Finally, I said, “Fine, I’ll go. But I’m not promising anything—not a second date, not a kiss goodnight, nothing. Clear?”
She nodded as she clapped her hands together a few times, grinning and stomping her feet lightly the whole time. I knew she didn’t want to upset the people who rented the office space below hers, and they were fairly touchy. “Let me go get what I bought,” she said with a slight squeal.
Seeing how happy it had made her was enough that I could endure an hour with some guy while I sipped on a mojito or something. Maybe I could pretend I was at a beach, watching the waves and sipping my fancy drink? A girl could dream.
I couldn’t even let myself consider the possibility that this could be something that worked. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust her taste in men, more that I’d had enough bad experiences to last a lifetime already. If I were the religious type, then I might’ve considered becoming a nun, but after your mother tries to burn the devil out of you, you tend to question…well, everything.
When she returned, I saw a black and white striped bag from her favorite makeup store in one hand and a garment bag in the other. What had she gotten herself into? Sometimes, I swear she just needed to shop for the feeling of it.
“Just a few necessities,” she said as she handed me the bag with the makeup. She hung the garment bag and opened it. A very short black dress hung there, and behind it was a floral blouse. I knew what she was trying to do, and it wasn’t going to work.
Cait wanted me to put myself out there in more ways than one, hence the short dress, and knew that I’d be more likely to go with it when faced with wearing florals as my other option. Joke was on her though. I’d wear florals every day for a month before I wore something where I had to worry about my ass cheeks hanging out.
It wasn’t that I objected to revealing clothes, but because of my scars, I had a tendency to hide rather than show off. An hour or so later, and I was dressed with some fresh makeup on and my fancy new floral blouse. “You know you didn’t have to get me all this stuff, right?”
“Bish, please. I’m going to look fucking hot in that dress, and the makeup is no big deal. Plus, I had a ton of points to use up anyway. Consider it my treat—a bonus for kicking some serious ass the last couple of weeks.”
Her words made my heart glow with pride as I gave her a hug and left for the bar. When I glanced over my shoulder, she was already refocused on her computer screen, so I knew that she was going to be working most of the night.
The bar we’d agreed to meet at was a few blocks down from my office. As soon as I walked in, I saw him sitting at the end of the bar, nursing a glass of something. He was wearing the blue and green polo shirt he said he’d be in, and it was a weird checkered pattern that made him look like a picnic table. Who was I to judge though, when I was wearing a bright floral blouse?
I took a deep breath and headed toward my date. This was going to be fine. I just needed to be friendly, and we could have a nice evening without any expectations.
“Paul?” I asked once I was close enough that he could hear me.
“Tessa?” he replied, his eyebrows rising above the square frames of his glasses as he gave me a once-over. When the smile broke over his face, I could tell that he was relieved by what he saw, which made me wonder what Cait had told him.
I smiled and pulled out the bar stool sitting next to him. The bartender was right there, so I ordered my drink, then we began to make that super awkward small talk that happens when people first get to know one another.
The thing was…it wasn’t terrible, not like I’d been expecting. As I sipped on my drink, I began to wonder if Cait was actually on to something.
“So Cait said you have a thing about your glove?” he asked when there was a lull in the conversation.
The question was like a bucket of cold water being thrown over me. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Your glove? Cait said you were weird about it. What’s that about?”
Okay. Just breathe. She’d given him a heads-up, that was all. Just because the man had no tact didn’t mean that Cait had actually insulted me like that.
“I have some scarring from a childhood accident.” It was mostly true, but if he couldn’t handle scars, then he definitely couldn’t handle the truth.
“Is it bad?” he asked, looking at my gloved hand with concern.
I forced a laugh and took a bigger gulp of my drink. “It’s enough for me to wear a glove, so what do you think?”
His gaze was glued to my hand as though he couldn’t hear a single word that was coming out of my mouth. I’d met guys like this before, or at least I suspected he was like them. They wanted to see the ruined skin, the distorted fingers, all of it. They didn’t want to date me. They definitely weren’t interested in me as a person, just the side show attraction that was my hand.
“Can I see it?”
There it was. As if I needed to know anything else. Still, I’d promised Cait I’d give this a fair shot, so I said, “Sure.” The word was sour in my mouth, and I had to fight against my instinct to hide my hand from view as I removed the glove. The slinky black material slid off my skin, then I held my hand out so he could see.
His voice was much louder than I was comfortable with as he exclaimed, “Dude, that’s gnarly! Can you even bend those fingers? Can you feel anything, or is it all just numb, like too much nerve damage?” His eyes shone with fascination, but not the kind I wanted to be directed at me.
I quickly withdrew my hand from view and slipped my glove back on. As subtly as I could, I removed a twenty from my wallet and placed it on the bar under my glass as he continued to pepper me with questions. How old was I when it happened? What caused it? Do I have nightmares? Can he touch it?
“It was nice to meet you,” I said quietly as I swung off the bar stool and turned to leave.
It was just in time to hear one of the other patrons at the bar whisper to their friend, “Oh my gawd, did you see that girl’s hand? What the fuck causes something like that?”
“I hope it’s not contagious,” the friend stage-whispered back as they both gave me a wide berth as I exited.
My stomach rolled with disgust at the fact that I’d shown someone my hand. The reaction he’d had, the fact that he didn’t protest my leaving or apologize, or even question what had gone wrong told me exactly what this was. He’d been just as on the fence about a blind date as I had, but then Cait had mentioned my glove and his curiosity got the better of him.
It was fine. Really.
I kept telling myself that, even though I felt the hot tears running down my cheeks. I should’ve been used to this bullshit by now, but apparently, I wasn’t. Maybe it was because after everything with Brok and his comments, I was already feeling touchy or something, but tonight hurt my heart, hurt my pride. I’d promised to stop giving a shit about that kind of behavior anymore, so I wiped my tears and took a few deep breaths, pushing the pain and humiliation down where it couldn’t hurt me, at least not for a while, and locking it away.
As I moved toward my apartment, I saw eyes flashing in the dark, ones that reminded me all too much of that night with Brok. I tried to convince myself that it was just because Brok was on my mind. No one was actually out there. No one was following me.
That didn’t mean that I didn’t pick up the pace and circle the block a few times around my apartment before going inside and triple checking that my door and windows were locked up tight.
Some days, it felt like I just couldn’t win. Brok attacking me, Finn somehow knowing that I had delusions of demons, and now Paul and his weird fascination with my hand. Fuck men. Fuck them all.
I grabbed my book and blanket and flopped down on the mattress I called my bed, letting the emotions flow over me until they were spilling out as tears once more. Why was everything so damn hard all the time? How could people be so cruel just because someone looked different? These were the questions that plagued me as I tried to lose myself in my latest book.
I wanted to have a peaceful night’s sleep, but after everything that had just happened and the direction my thoughts were going, I knew that was as likely as an ice cube’s chance in hell. Especially when I could smell smoke and burning flesh as my mind drifted off into unconsciousness.
