17. Saved By the Bell

"I'm sorry!" He uttered, looking down at me. Utterly petrified. "That was an accident! I didn't mean to listen in on your thoughts, I'm so sorry!"

"Greyson it's al-"

"It just happened." He covered his eyes with a hand. "I let my emotions run free, and it happened involuntarily."

I lifted both hands up, as if I was trying to consolidate a startled horse. "Greyson, it's okay. Mistakes happen, it -"

"No. No, it's not okay." He let his hands fall away from his brow and shot me with a unyielding look. "You asked me to - " When he noticed how close I'd gotten to him, he leaned back, startled.

My nurturing expression seemed to drop his panic a few pegs. "I asked you to what?" I prompted softly.

His nostrils flared, and his jaw ticked as his troubled gaze lingered over my calm mask. "You specifically asked me not to eavesdrop on your thoughts," he resumed, almost angry. "And after all you've done for me, I wasn't careful enough, and practically disregarded that request altogether."

"You didn't do it on purpose." I gazed into the dark abyss of his eyes, searching them. "You just..." What was the word I was looking for? "Slipped."

His brows furrowed painfully. "Until recently, I had never been exposed to someone as much as I have been exposed to you. Yes, it's difficult to adjust. Still, that's no excuse. I should have never disrespected the boundaries that you set in place." He raked a hand through his dark hair and sunk down, bending his knees until they laid flat on the floor, as if he was surrendering to me. "I am deeply sorry."

"Greyson wha-?"

"Maybe you should wear a protective helmet around me like the Agents did, back at the Agency," he suggested, bowing his head in shame. "That way you'll be protected from me."

"Greyson, don't you think you're being a little dramatic?"

He shook his head. "I don't want you to ever think I'm influencing your thoughts. I need you to know that I would never do that to you." He let out a tortured sigh, grunting the word "never". "I would never force you to do anything you didn't want, and I never want to put you in harm's way."

Before I could say: "What are you going on about?" Comprehension slapped me across the face. This was some type of trauma speaking! He had been told by so many Agents that he was dangerous. That an ability such telepathy, was something to be feared. But unlike my fellow coworkers, I was not one bit afraid of him. One the contrary, I was harboring a stupid crush on the guy. And what I feared most of all, was that he would one day sneak into my thoughts and figure out my feelings. That was the number one reason I didn't want him venturing around in my head. It certainly was not because I thought he would use it to make me his puppet, or something of the sort.

"I should have tried harder to be more..." He trailed off, looking at the ground as if in agony.

"Be more what?" I pressed with a soothing tone that I hoped would calm him.

His jaw muscles went taut. He shook his head.

As an attempt to comfort him, I reached forward and patted his shoulder.

As soon as my hand reached him, his entire body flinched and my insides seized in surprise. His eyes shot to my hand and he balked away from my touch. As if my skin was made of fire and had seared off the top of his shoulder.

This was the first time I had ever tried to touch him, I realised, and by the looks of things, it had been one huge mistake.

I pulled my hand back in a hast, and hugged it to my chest. "I'm sorry," I stuttered, taking a few steps away from him. "I was just trying to console you... I didn't even consider the possibility that my touch would upset you. I really didn't mean to scare you." I took another step back. "

He grabbed the back of my knee, and held me there. Keeping me still and barring me from distancing myself any further from him.

"It's not that." His chest rose and fell slowly as we remained shock still in front of each other. His hand flexed on my calf as he kept his eyes cast low, watching my feet. "I don't mind you touching me," he said, his voice too flat, too collected.

My heart froze and sent ice through my blood. "You reacted to my hand as if it was a revolver and you had just been shot," I reminded him, feeling a tightness in my throat. It was not the time to relish in the feel of his fingers against my skin. It sent a weird thrill through me as a certain memory skidded past my mind. A few days ago, he had been kneeling before me, like he was now, his hands in the exact same place on my leg, and I was unlocking a helmet that had been strapped to his jaw. "Talk to me, Greyson. What happened?"

"It just caught me off guard is all." He looked up at me, and my stomach twisted into a million knots. "I'm just not used to people touching me, without shoving a needle in my arm the next minute."

"Oh." My heart sank. "Right."

Of course. I should have connected the dots right away. The Agency's idea of an "appropriate interaction" was all that Greyson had ever known. No one in his life had ever treated him with care. And I was willing to bet that he had never even hugged someone before. The thought made my eyes sting. It took everything in me not to pull him into my arms right there and then. Holding him protectively against me, just to show him what it was like to be comforted by someone who cared.

One step at a time, Ashlyn. He obviously needs time to adjust to human contact. Look at how he reacted to your hand. He's definitely not ready for a hug.

We were still staring at each other, when his expression turned sorrowful. "Ashlyn?"

My throat bobbed. "What is it?"

He looked down at my chest, settling his eyes on my hand. "May I have your hand a moment?"

I blinked, gingerly bringing my palm in front of his face. Feeling my heartbeat in my ears as I noticed how soft his fingers were the minute they circled around mine. He led them back to his shoulder. My pulse stopped momentarily, when his deltoid muscle flexed under my delicate touch. I could feel his breath against my wrist, as he closed his eyes trying to become accustomed to the feel of my hand.

"I don't dislike it when you touch me," he admitted, and I swallowed down my rising nerves. "It's a feeling I'm not used to. But it's not a bad one."

My mind was swirling as his eyes opened and his fingers wrapped around mine. I tried not to fall harder for him as his grip tightened around my knuckles.

"Greyson, I really wish I could take away what they did to you in that vault," I managed to say, as my other hand slowly, very slowly, went to rest on his opposite shoulder. I stepped forward and he leaned closer to me. He glanced at his opposite shoulder, his fingers flexing against the back of my leg as he allowed me to lay my other hand upon him. "I wish I could erase it all from your memory," I soothed.

He closed his eyes. "I appreciate that."

Mind going hazy, my breathing picked up. This was beginning to feel very intimate.

"This somehow helps," he continued, warmth written all over his face. "It won't erase the memories, but it will help replace them with better ones."

Three Mississippi's later, it dawned on me just how close my stomach was to his face. And my cheeks felt like they were on fire.

He frowned and peered up at me, as if he too had just noticed our too-close proximity. His eyes scanned the length of me, slowly wondering past my parted lips, the rise and fall of my chest, down my arms to the tips of my fingers resting on his shoulder. His eyes were leaving tingling sensations across my skin as they travelled, as if the mere heat in them was capable of tracing their mark on me. I swallowed, trying to keep my hands from shaking nervously.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" He asked quietly.

I swallowed before answering. "No. I'm just not used to someone being this close to me either."

He peered up at me with a soft expression that made me lose my head. "I see," he said. He pulled his hands away from my calf. A small breath escaped me. "As I was saying earlier, I should try harder to be more -" He cut himself off once again. "Argh."

Curiosity peaked. "To be more careful?" I suggested, encouraging him.

His jaw twitched, and he shook his head. "It's not quite the word I was looking for."

"What is the word you were looking for?" I asked, patiently waiting and trying not to rack my hand up into his hair. His hair looked so soft.

"Human." He cringed, as if the word left a sour taste in his mouth. Still kneeling, his gaze was cast in darkness. "I should try harder to be more human when I'm around you."

My stomach pinched. Guilt surged up. I recalled some comments I had uttered to him. All the times I might have spoken without thinking, mentioning that he was "different". Not being considered human bothered him a great deal, it seemed, and for good reasons; he had been condemned to a life of anguish and torture because he wasn't considered "normal". No one at the agency had ever seen him as an equal, or treated him as such.

The realisation made me want to eradicated anyone who dared to make him feel inferior ever again.

"Greyson, you shouldn't think like that." When he looked up, his eyes looked as dark as the deepest part of the ocean. "I don't even know what 'being human' even means. Everyone is so dissimilar," I told him. "We might have some differences, you and me, but that doesn't mean people should treat you differently. You are only half alien, and sure, you've got an uncommon ability. But guess what? Some people on earth were born with supernatural talents, just like you, and they are celebrated for it." Oh god, I wish he would stop looking at me like every word I say means the world to him. He was heart-wrenchingly handsome, enough so, that it made me wish he looked like Bigfoot. Then, his looks wouldn't affect me as much as they were right now. "Greyson, you don't have to ever change who you are just to fit into this... box. I don't expect you to be 'normal.' I don't. Being normal is overrated anyway, and it's impossible to achieve! I don't even think I'm normal, to be completely honest with you. Being normal is just a concept. And a dumb one at that. You don't need to act as specific way to make me happy, I promise. You're fine just the way you are."

"The way I am, is hated by most people."

"Not by me." I squeezed both his shoulder reassuringly, and the pressure didn't seem to bother him. "I like you the way you are."

His gaze liquified. "If that's the case, I'll do my very best to make sure that never changes."

My breath became hostage to my lungs. Don't read too much into this, I reminded myself. You can't fall in love with him, remember?

A gathering of leaves hit the window behind him; the one adjacent to the front door. The wind had picked up, and the walls of the cabin whimpered against the force of the breeze. A whopping gust of air thrashed against the walls, and sent pine cones flying across the deck. Neither Greyson nor I paid the outside world any attention, we were too busy trying to discern each other's expression.

Don't read too much into it, I repeated to myself.

A phone rang. Giving me an excuse to break from the intensity of Greyson's stare. I slid my hand from his shoulder and took a well-needed step rearward.

"Percy!" I said, realising he was the only one who could call me.

The back of my leg was still warm from Greyson's touch as I ran upstairs, leaving him behind, and plunged into my room. I rummaged through my bags inside the dresser and quickly found the burner phone Percy had left with me.

"He is going to kill me," I groaned, noticing that this was his third time calling. "Oh, god." I pressed the green button and brought the receiver to my ear. "Heeeeey, buddy."

"I am going to kill you," he bit out.

I assumed as much.

"How's it going?" I drawled.

"Don't give me that crap," he shot. "I thought you were dead!"

"Cats have nine lives, Percy," I said. "I'll be fine."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm the curious cat, remember?" I joshed. "Satisfaction brought me back... Yadee Yadaa?"

"Yeah? Well, I'm about to make it eight lives."

"Percy, come on. I just forgot to call; there was a lot of stuff going on. Believe it or not." I rolled my eyes. "We are talking now, so why don't you just calm your tits?"

"Never."

I laughed.

The conversation quickly veered towards a more professional one. And though I had dreaded hearing about how angry my father was with me, and how desperate the Agency wanted to see me behind bars, I was glad Percy had called. Just a minute more downstairs, and I would have melted into a puddle in front of Greyson.

I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't fall any harder for the man. He was leaving the planet soon, and I was staying here.

This was precisely why people warned others against naming a lost puppy; they run the risk of getting too attached, and end up hurting themselves later when the puppy needs to be returned to its original owner.

For god sakes, Ashlyn. Don't get too attached to that puppy downstairs.

...

Thank you for making it this far! Please enjoy some book art.

How are you all enjoying the story so far?

Let me know what you think of the characters <3