“But why? They can’t teach anything at college that would be useful to you.”
“No,” Laurel countered, “they can’t teach me anything in college that you think would be useful to you. I’m not you, Tamani.”
“But really? More school? That’s what you want to do?”
“Maybe.”
“Because I gotta tell you, sitting through all my classes is by far the worst part of my day. I don’t know how you could want more of that. I hate it.”
“That’s basically what I do in Avalon, too. No matter where I go, there’s school.”
“But in Avalon you’d be learning stuff that’s useful. Square root of a cosine? How is that ever going to be useful?”
Laurel laughed. “I’m sure it’s useful for someone.” She paused. “But I won’t be majoring in math or anything. Besides, I think anything you learn can help you.”
“Yeah, but . . .” He closed his mouth suddenly and Laurel was glad he wasn’t going to drag her back into that circular argument. “I just don’t understand. This human obsession with schooling, it doesn’t interest me. I mean, humans interest me. You interest me. Even your”—he hesitated—“family interests me. Strange though they are,” he added with a smile.
“So,” she said, “Thanksgiving? Will you come?”
He smiled. “Will you be there?”
“Of course.”
“Then that’s my answer too.”
“Good,” Laurel said, looking studiously away. “It’ll give me a chance to show you what I’ve found out about the powder,” she added in a whisper.
“You found something out?” Tamani replied, touching the back of her hand.
“Not a lot,” Laurel said, trying not to feel the calm pressure of his fingertips. “But a few things. Hopefully I’ll know more by Thursday. I work on it every night after homework.”
“I never doubted you for a second,” he said, smiling softly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.
Chapter Thirty
THANKSGIVING HAD ALWAYS BEEN ONE OF LAUREL’S favorite holidays. She wasn’t entirely sure why—she couldn’t eat turkey, mashed potatoes, or pumpkin pie, at least not the traditional varieties. But there was something about the festivities and the gathering of family that she had always enjoyed. Even when “family” only included the three of them.
This year, her mom was making two Cornish game hens instead of a turkey. “I don’t see why I should bother, considering only half of the people here will even be eating it,” she’d joked. It seemed like a good idea to Laurel, though, and the rosemary rub was creating a mouthwatering smell in the kitchen. If you could get past the smell of cooking meat mingled in.
Laurel’s mom was working on a big vegetable tray while Laurel put the final touches on her fruit tray. She looked over at her mom to ask if she should slice the strawberries, but her mom was staring out the back window. “Mom?” Laurel said, touching her arm.
Her mom startled and looked over at Laurel. “Should we invite them in?” she asked.
“Who?”
“The sentries.”
Man, that was a disaster waiting to happen. “No. Seriously, Mom. They’re fine. When we’re done I’ll take the fruit and veggie trays out and see if they want some, but I don’t think they’ll come in.”
“You sure?” she asked, gazing out at the trees, maternal concern in her eyes.
“Totally.” Laurel could see it now, a whole bunch of grave, green-clad men standing in their kitchen, alert for danger, jumping at every sound. Very festive.
The doorbell rang and Laurel hopped up from her stool. “I’ll get it.”
“I bet you will,” she barely heard her mom say under her breath.
“Mother!” she scolded just before rounding the corner.
She opened the door to Tamani, standing with the sunlight at his back, giving him an ethereal glow. She felt her knees start to wobble and wondered briefly if inviting him had really been the best idea.
He smiled and brought his face close to hers; Laurel took a sharp breath, but he just whispered, “I really don’t know what I’m doing. I hope I wasn’t supposed to bring something special or anything.”
“Oh, no,” Laurel said, smiling; it was nice to know that, beneath his cool exterior, he did worry about things sometimes. “I just wanted you to bring yourself.” Stupid, stupid! Like he could leave himself home. She hated that he still made her tongue-tied.
Her mom was bent over the oven, checking the hens, when Laurel led Tamani into the kitchen. Laurel suspected they didn’t really need checking, but it was nice to walk in and not feel like her mom was waiting expectantly. It was a little odd how supportive her parents were where Tamani was involved—her mom in particular was really making an effort. Laurel couldn’t help but wonder why.
“Hey, Mom,” Laurel said, “Tamani’s here.”
Her mom looked up and smiled, closing the oven. She wiped her hands on her apron and extended one toward Tamani. “We’re so glad you could join us.”
“My pleasure completely,” Tamani said, sounding like a perfect English gentleman. “And . . .” he added, hesitating, “I wanted to apologize for the last time we met. The circumstances were . . . less than ideal.”
But her mom waved his words away. “Oh, please.” She put an arm around Laurel and smiled down at her. “When you have a daughter who’s a faerie, you learn to deal with these things.”
Tamani visibly relaxed. “Can I help?” he asked.
“No, no. Thanksgiving is football day. You can go sit with Mark in the rec room,” she said, pointing. “And dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes.”
“If you’re sure,” Tamani said. “I’m a great fruit slicer.”
Laurel’s mom laughed. “I’m sure you are. No, we’ve got this covered. You go.”
Laurel wanted to protest, but Tamani was already smiling and heading toward the rec room. She followed him and lingered in the doorway, peeking in at the two men. Not that there was much to see; they shook hands, muttered some greetings, and then Laurel’s dad tried to explain football to Tamani. Still, Laurel’s mom had to call twice before she pulled herself away to finish the fruit tray.
When the meal was ready, they gathered around the kitchen table. After everyone was served, Tamani looked up and complimented Laurel’s mother on her preparation of the game hens. “It all looks fabulous, Mrs. Sewell. Meat obviously isn’t my thing, but it smells fantastic. Rosemary, right?”
Laurel’s mom beamed. “Thank you. I’m impressed you recognized the spice. And please, Sarah and Mark. None of this mister-and-missus nonsense.” She reached over and squeezed her husband’s hand. “Makes us feel old.”
“You are old,” Laurel said, snickering.
Her mom raised an eyebrow. “That’s quite enough out of you, missy.”
“So, Tamani, tell me about being a sentry.”
“Well—”
“Oh, Mark, don’t pester him about work on a holiday.”
“I don’t mind, really,” Tamani said. “I love my job. And it’s basically my life at the moment, holiday or not.”
Laurel’s dad peppered Tamani with questions, mostly about Tamani’s position as a sentry, then moving on to growing up in Avalon, what sorts of foods they ate, and several questions about faerie economics that Tamani couldn’t answer. By the time her mom finally pulled out the pie, Laurel was feeling more than a little awkward and Tamani had only managed to clear about half his plate—which had not been dished high to begin with. Laurel longed for an opportunity to smuggle him away before her dad asked too many more weird questions about Avalon’s gross domestic product or political hierarchy.
“Let the boy eat,” Laurel’s mom scolded, shutting her husband up with a huge piece of pumpkin pie, smothered in whipped cream. For Laurel and Tamani she had small sorbet dishes filled with a sweet frozen fruit concoction.
“We usually watch a movie after dessert,” Laurel’s dad said to Tamani. “Care to join us?”
/> “I’m actually going to take Tamani on a walk,” Laurel said, snatching up her opportunity before Tamani could respond. “But we should be back in time to catch the end.”
“Personally,” her dad said, rubbing his belly, “I would have to go on a waddle.”
Laurel rolled her eyes and groaned. Parents. She grabbed Tamani’s arm and practically dragged him toward the front door, wanting to escape before anyone else said anything.
“Anxious to have me all to yourself?” Tamani murmured with a grin as the door closed.
“I may have underestimated how awkward that was going to be.”
“Awkward?” Tamani said, looking sincere. “I didn’t think it was awkward. Well, at first,” he admitted. “But meeting new people is always like that. Personally, I found the whole thing to be much less awkward than I expected. They’re nice.”
They wandered aimlessly for a while before Laurel realized her feet were heading down the familiar route to school. Instead of turning a different way, Laurel headed for the football field and climbed the bleachers. When she reached the top, she faced away from the field and held on to the railing, letting the wind caress her face and tangle her hair. Tamani hesitated, then came to stand beside her.
“I’m sorry you have to go through all this,” he said, not looking at her. “You know, when I started as a sentry, I had pretty mild expectations. Some sentries go their entire lives never seeing a troll. You were always supposed to live a pretty normal life out at the cabin, come back to Avalon once you’d inherited the land, and . . . after that, my job would be pretty easy.”
“Jamison said the same thing,” Laurel said, looking over her shoulder at Tamani. “About me just living a normal human life until it was time to come back to Avalon. I guess nothing’s ever as easy as we hope.” She wasn’t just talking about the trolls, either. Had they really expected her to walk away from her human life without so much as a backward glance?
“No,” Tamani agreed, “but I keep right on hoping.” He shifted, snugging in close behind her. He placed his right hand on the railing beside her, and, after a moment’s hesitation, placed his left hand over hers, his chest cradling her back.
She knew she should shrug his arms off, walk away, break contact, but she couldn’t. She didn’t want to. And for once, she didn’t make herself. She stood, unmoving, feeling him so close, and just drank it in—his presence as invigorating as the breeze across her face.
It seemed so natural that she almost didn’t notice his cheek press against her neck, his chin tilt until it was his lips meeting her skin. But she couldn’t ignore the soft kisses that trailed up her neck and touched her ear; the fiery sensation that coursed through her, begging her to turn and face him, to give him the permission he was silently seeking. She could hardly breathe with the weight of the wanting. Then his hand was at her waist, turning her gently toward him. He kissed the very corner of her mouth and sighed before brushing his lips softly against hers.
Summoning every ounce of self-control she had, Laurel whispered, “I can’t.”
“Why?” Tamani asked, his forehead pressed to hers.
“I just can’t,” Laurel said, turning away.
But he took both of her hands and pulled her back, looking into her eyes. “Don’t mistake me,” he said, so gently, so softly. “I will do anything you ask. I simply want to know why. Why do you feel so bound?”
“I promised myself. I—I have to make a decision. And being with you, kissing you, it makes my thinking fuzzy. I need a clear head.”
“I’m not asking you to make a decision,” Tamani said. “I just want to kiss you.” He slid his hand up her neck, cupping the side of her face. “Do you want to kiss me?”
She nodded, very slightly. “But—”
“Then you can,” he said. “And tomorrow I won’t expect you to have made your decision. Sometimes,” he said, bringing a fingertip to her bottom lip, “a kiss is simply a kiss.”
“I don’t want to string you along,” Laurel said, her voice weak.
“I know. And I’m glad. But right now I don’t care if it means nothing. Even if you never kiss me again after today—let’s have today.” His mouth was back at her ear, his whisper breathy and warm.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Laurel said.
“How could this possibly hurt?”
“You know how it is. You’ll hate me tomorrow.”
“I could never hate you.”
“It doesn’t mean forever.”
“I’m not asking for forever,” Tamani said. “Yet. I’m just asking for a moment.”
She had no more arguments. Well, there were little ones. Ones that didn’t matter, couldn’t matter when Tamani’s hands were tight against her back, caressing her shoulders, his lips a breath away from hers.
Laurel leaned forward and closed the gap.
Chapter Thirty-One
EVERYTHING SEEMED FUNNY ON THE TEN-MINUTE walk back to her house. Sadly, though, Laurel’s good spirits were not helping her hair at all. “Why can’t you be a regular guy who carries a comb in his pocket?” she asked, trying to finger-comb through the tangles.
“When have I ever given you even the slightest impression that I am a ‘regular guy’?”
“Point,” Laurel said, poking his stomach.
He grabbed her, pinning her arms to her sides, and spun her around as she shrieked. He was different. Relaxed and casual in a way she hadn’t seen him for weeks. Really, since the afternoon at the cabin in Orick. It was easy to focus on herself and forget that everything was at least as stressful to Tamani as it was for her. But today, in that long hour of letting themselves just be, they had both found a kind of rest they desperately needed. Laurel kept expecting the usual guilt to settle in, but it didn’t.
“This is not helping my hair,” she said, gasping for breath.
“I think your hair is a lost cause,” Tamani said, letting her go.
“Sadly, I imagine you’re right,” Laurel replied. “Maybe my parents won’t notice.”
“Uh, yeah, maybe,” Tamani said, smirking.
“Oh, crap.”
“What?” Tamani said, instantly sober and alert, stepping in front of her.
“It’s fine,” Laurel said, pushing him aside and gesturing to the car parked in front of her house. “Chelsea’s here.”
“Is that a bad thing?” Tamani asked, confused. “I mean, I think she’s awesome, don’t you?”
“No, she is. But she notices everything and won’t hesitate to comment,” she said meaningfully.
“Come here,” Tamani said, pulling her backward toward him. “I can fix this.”
Laurel stood still as Tamani smoothed her hair—detangling some knots that she couldn’t see—until it laid flat again.
“Wow,” Laurel said, her hands running down her smooth tresses. “Where did you learn to do that?”
He shrugged. “It’s just hair. Come on.” They walked, no longer hand in hand, back to the house.
Chelsea was sitting at the bar with a plate of pumpkin pie in front of her, spooning the whipped cream off the top first.
“There you are!” she said, turning as Laurel came in. “I’ve been waiting for you guys for half an hour. What on earth have you been doing?”
Laurel smiled awkwardly. “Hey, Chelsea,” she said, studiously ignoring the question.
“Sorry I didn’t call,” Chelsea said, gawking rather openly at Tamani. “I just had to get away; my brothers are a nightmare. Is he staying?”
Laurel looked up at Tamani.
“I can go,” Tamani said. “I don’t want to interrupt.”
“No, no, stay!” Chelsea said, clapping her hands together. “A chance to dig into you all by myself. I wouldn’t miss this opportunity for anything!”
“Not sure I like the sound of that,” Tamani said slowly. “And we’re not exactly alone.”
“Oh, Laurel hardly counts.”
“Thanks,” Laurel said wryly.
“Not lik
e that. I mean without the looming bundles of testosterone. You understand.”
Sadly, Laurel did. “You really can go if you want,” she murmured to Tamani.
“I’ve got nowhere to be,” Tamani said, grinning.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Mom, we’re going upstairs.”
“Keep the door open,” her mom called reflexively.
“Yeah, ’cause that’s going to be a problem,” Laurel muttered.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Mrs. S.” Chelsea laughed, bounding up the stairs in front of Laurel.
As Chelsea peppered Tamani with questions about faerie longevity, garden mythology, and folk stories from around the world, Laurel’s mind wandered. Wandered down to the football fields at the high school, specifically. Why couldn’t she resist? Why couldn’t she just be by herself for a while? Was she in love? Sometimes she was sure the answer was yes, but almost as often, she was sure the answer was no. Not while she still felt the way she did about David. She was starting to really miss him, even though she saw him almost every day. But if it wasn’t love with Tamani, what was it? Not for the first time, Laurel wondered if she could be in love with them both. And, if she could, whether it mattered; it wasn’t as though either of them was willing to share. Not that that seemed like any kind of an answer, either.
Pushing her dreary thoughts away, Laurel watched as Chelsea continued to grill Tamani with many of the same questions her father had asked, shaking her head as Tamani scrambled for answers thorough enough to please Chelsea.
“I give up!” Tamani said with a laugh, after about half an hour. “Your curiosity is insatiable and I find myself not equal to the task. Besides, the sun is setting and I have a cabin to visit, and before I leave, Laurel has promised to tell me about her research,” Tamani said, looking at Laurel, his eyes begging for a rescue.
“I do have things to show you,” Laurel said, making her way to her desk. Hoping Tamani wouldn’t comment on the beaker of phosphorescent that she hadn’t had the heart to touch in weeks, Laurel turned on her desk lamp and pulled forward several sparkling pots that appeared to be made of cut glass—but were actually solid diamond.