Page 38 of Little Pieces of Light

Emery

I woke wrapped in Xander’s arms and thought I must be dreaming.

He held me tightly. Protectively. I smiled and nestled closer to him, our kiss still alive in my mind, stirring me awake, though it couldn’t have been more than a little past dawn.

A slant of silvery-gold light fell across the bed. The storm was over.

My cheek lay on Xander’s chest, and I listened to the steady thump of his heart in my ear, while last night played on repeat.

A tale of two nights, I thought. The first half, dark and cold and miserable. The second, warm and safe and good. Kissing Xander…

It wasn’t anything I was prepared for. His mouth on mine, his lips, his tongue…

the pull of his kiss drawing me in. Like coming home.

A lost part of me that had been wandering alone out in the cold had found itself at last, safe with him.

Because he was who I was supposed to be kissing and touching. The one I was supposed to love…

I shouldn’t have been thinking like that, but I couldn’t help myself.

I’d fallen in love with Xander Ford when I was ten years old, and when I tried to tear up that love and throw it away, it came back, all grown up.

It was a little bit scary and a whole lot thrilling, how much I felt for him.

And when he saw me holding that flower, it’d been written all over his face that he felt the same. He and I, we were inevitable.

Infinite.

The perfect contentment threatened to lull me back to sleep, but reality had other plans. I’d been out all night—on a school night—without telling my parents. If I didn’t get home soon, Dad would use his connections at Castle Hill’s police department to send out a search party.

I sat up and glanced around. Xander’s room was tidy and simple, a desk under the window, a blue comforter on the bed, a Radiohead poster over a bookshelf. Nothing to indicate that a super genius lived here; I’d half expected a periodic table on the wall or a poster of Stephen Hawking.

That’s because you’ve been living in a world of stereotypes and snap judgments.

That was true, but I was working on being a better person. For him but for me, too.

I went to the window, half expecting to see a police cruiser or Dad’s black sedan and Colin waiting to steal me away. But outside, everything was glistening from the rain. Quiet. I was safe here, tucked deep in the forest, away from the world.

I slipped back into bed and curled against Xander—my chest to his warm back, my arm wrapped around him. A big spoon to his little spoon.

Xander stirred, and in a half sleep, he found my hand on his chest and laced his fingers with mine, then cinched me in tighter, so that we were practically melded together.

With the purest contentment, I nestled my face into the back of his neck.

He had a tiny mole on his pale skin that I hadn’t known was there.

But now I know. Now, I can know all of him…

Happiness flooded me, and I planted a kiss on the back of his neck. Because I could do that now, too. I could kiss him whenever I wanted, and that sent tingles down my spine and between my legs. I bit my lip thinking about what else could happen between us now. All the ways he’d touch me…

Xander stirred again and rolled over to face me. The smile that came to his lips when he saw me nearly brought me to tears.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I said with a sniff. “You’re going to make me cry, and I did enough of that last night.”

His smile instantly collapsed because he felt responsible. His words from last night sung out in my heart.

What happens to you, happens to me.

“You have to stop blaming yourself for last night,” I said. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I just hate that Tucker tried something with you. It could have been so much worse.”

“But it wasn’t.” I reached out to touch his bruised cheekbone. “This was him.”

“Small price to pay.” Xander craned to kiss my lips, my chin, my nose, then pulled me closer.

“So we’re really doing this.” I traced a heart on his T-shirt with my finger. “I know you have doubts—”

“Not about how I feel for you, Emery. Only what’s coming at the end of the year.”

“I’m more worried that you’ll get bored with me.”

“Bored? With you ?”

“Well, yeah,” I said with a small smile. “You might have noticed that I’m not as smart as you.”

He heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Few people are.”

I snorted and gave him a nudge. “I’m being serious.”

“Emery, how could I ever be bored with you? You have more vitality than anyone I’ve ever met. I’m the one who should be worried. I’m always in my head, and you’re all heart.”

“Maybe that’s why we work,” I ventured. “Like yin and yang.”

“I thought we were entangled particles.”

I grinned. “I love that the most, but it’s harder to find a Hallmark card for it.”

He chuckled, then grew serious. “Whatever we are, I don’t want to mess it up.”

I moved to prop my chin on my hands, my hands on his chest. “Me neither. But it’s going to be hard. Because…God, I can’t even say it.”

“We need to keep us a secret.”

I nodded. “Not because of any bullshit peer pressure at school. But if word were to get back to my dad through Tucker or Delilah, he’ll make both our lives impossible.”

“He threatened as much the other day.” Xander brushed a lock of hair from my eyes. “I don’t want to ruin your shot at getting out of here.”

“You’re not ruining anything. You’re making everything better.”

I kissed him softly and then traced my finger along his chin.

He loosely wrapped a lock of my hair around his finger, and for a few long moments, we stayed that way—me lying over his chest, each taking the other in with little touches, little looks.

As if we were getting reacquainted after a long separation.

“Hey, I never congratulated you on your win at the regatta,” I said after a minute. “That must’ve been pretty exciting.”

“It was fine.”

“Only fine?”

“No racing victory is ever going to come close to how I feel right now.”

I buried my face in his neck. “My God, Xander, I can’t even with you.”

He chuckled and then a loud bang erupted from downstairs. We both shot to sitting.

“My dad,” he said almost apologetically and climbed out of bed. “He likes to cook breakfast…a lot.”

“What if he catches me here…?”

“He won’t care. He’ll be ecstatic, actually, and make a bunch of really inappropriate jokes.”

“I like him already. Can I meet him?”

“I don’t think…” Xander stopped. “Actually, yes. You should meet him. Because I shouldn’t be embarrassed.”

“No,” I said with a smile. “You shouldn’t.”

My dress and coat were still a sodden mess, so I had to stay in Xander’s Langdon sweatshirt and pajama pants. He found me a plastic bag for my wet clothes and heels, and then we went down.

In the Fords’ small kitchen, Xander’s father was humming as he pulled bacon and eggs from the fridge. He had Tim Burton hair—dark but graying and sticking out all over—and wore a maroon bathrobe over his blue pajamas.

“Hey, Dad,” Xander said from the entry, his hand clasped with mine. “I’d like you to meet someone.”

“Hm?” Dr. Ford turned and stared at me a moment, his eyes—blue like one of Xander’s—going between the two of us. Then a sly look came over his angular features. “Well, who is this lovely young lady?”

“Emery, this is my dad, Dr. Russell Ford. Dad, this is Emery Wallace.” Xander’s face turned red. “She’s, uh…she’s…”

“I’m his girlfriend,” I blurted and then flinched. The words hung in the air, and it was too late to snatch them back, so I started stammering like a madwoman. “I mean…we’re not dating anyone else, right? I don’t want to be with anyone else…but, maybe it’s too soon—?”

Xander glanced down at me; his smile was like the one from earlier—so touched and happy, I wanted to cry. Understanding passed between us. It may have only been one kiss, one night, but that kiss was seven years in the making, and neither of us wanted to waste one more second.

“Yes,” he said. “She’s my girlfriend.”

I’m his girlfriend. It felt so much different than what I’d been with Tucker. Because this is what it’s supposed to feel like.

“Very pleased to meet you, Emery.” Dr. Ford held out his hand for me to shake, and it trembled as if he were cold. I felt Xander tense beside me, while his father stared fearfully. He started to withdraw it, but I was quicker.

“I’m very happy to meet you, Dr. Ford,” I said, taking his hand in both of mine. “Xander’s told me so much about you.”

“Has he?” He beamed as the tension in the room eased. “Only good things, I hope. And please. Call me Russell.”

“He tells me you’re working on a unified theory, and that you’re close to solving it,” I said awkwardly, like trying out a foreign language with a native speaker for the first time.

“Could be, could be,” Russell said, resuming his breakfast prep. “Are you interested in physics, young lady?”

I’m interested in the physical perfection of your son, I thought and suppressed a giggle. “I think it’s fascinating, but I can’t hope to understand it.”

“Ah, spoken like a true physicist already! It was the great Richard Feynman who declared that nobody understands quantum mechanics.” A mischievous glint came to his eye.

“I believe it was also Feynman who said, ‘Physics is like sex: Sure, it may give some practical results, but that’s not why we do it.’ Isn’t that right, son? ”

“Jesus, Dad,” Xander said, mortified, while I shook with laughter.

Russell grinned. “You may have discovered better than I, Miss Emery, that it’s very easy to make my boy blush.” He reached his trembling hand and fondly patted Xander’s cheek, but then his smile fell. “What’s this bruise?”

“Rowing accident,” Xander said quickly. “Dad, I have to get Emery home. We have school.”

“Very well. Lovely to meet you, Miss Emery.”

“You too, Dr. Ford— Russell .”

We went to the garage, and in the car, Xander’s expression was pained. “The tremor is new. It’s a symptom of Lewy body dementia, which is like Parkinson’s and Alzheimer’s all rolled into one.”