Free Something Of A Kind by Miranda Wheeler

“Plus your hands.
They’re shaped like a pianist, but your fingertips are callused from
the strings. Oh, and the jacket. Leather’s pretty inflexible for the
sleeveless drummer type.”
“Wow. You’re a living, breathing Sherlock Holmes. Has anyone
ever told you that, ‘with great power comes great responsibility’?”
    She wrapped her arms around her stomach as she laughed. The
blissful sound filled the air with delight. It was contagious. He
joined her, ignoring the nagging thoughts that it looked asinine when
it was his joke.
As she caught her breath, wiping her tired eyes, she added, “Isn’t
that from Spiderman?”
    “Maybe. I think Holmes could have used it too, though. I’ll be
Watson.” He teased, poking her ribs. She flinched and recoiled back
to his side, careful not to spill her beverage. The abruptness of her
reflexes was softened by the happy noises she made, something
between a giggle, a squeal, and a threat. When Aly settled back in
place, she was closer than before. As they breathed the same air, he
felt his heartbeat in his ears.
Aly was too close.
     
Don’t move.
    She was right there, their sides pressed against one another. One
of her fists clutched the fabric of his shirt, her knuckles resting
against his chest. Her free hand was interlocked with his, tan and
porcelain, hot and cold. He hadn’t noticed.
How could I not notice?
     
She smelled like lavender and vanilla. He knew he smelled like
coffee.
     
She was too close.
    Then she started saying goodbye.
The doctor was a blaring his horn, just a few yards away. He
hung
halfway out the driver’s window, looking irritable and
confused.
“Thanks for everything. I appreciate you waiting with me.”
    A scarlet flush clouded her pale cheeks. He held onto her hand as
she stood, unable to register her departure. She squeezed his fingers
before pulling away, waving as she disappeared by the passenger’s
side of her father’s SUV. Greg rolled up the tinted window, blocking
her smile from view.
Alyson Glass was too close.
     
She was so close. Nothing wrong at all.

~
    When Noah pulled into
Yazzie’s, he knew there would be trouble
if Lee hadn’t already crashed. He had briefly planned to compose an
apology or an argument, and to pull over to call Luke or Owen,
whichever would prove a stronger alibi. It didn’t happen. Even
halfway to the front doors, he didn’t feel concerned that he was
totally unprepared.
    His thoughts were jumbled, his hands slightly shaking. He ran
the entire day in his head like a script he had to memorize, like
maybe something would suddenly make sense.
    Noah startled at the hand on his shoulder. He turned around
reflexively, expecting a slap or a glare. Meeting dazed eyes, he
recognized the dark lines amplifying a partially toothless beam.
“So, who's the girl?”
     
Noah blanched, blinking until he placed Tony Gabriel’s lived-in
face.
     
“You saw her already?” he asked, unable to mask his confusion.
     
“Yeah, yes, yep. I saw her. Beautiful girl. Doctor's daughter,
yes?”
     
“She says he's not a doctor. Her name's Alyson.”
     
“Why didn't you bring her to meet the family, aye?”
     
“Because they're mental?” he answered cautiously, quirking an
eyebrow.
     
“Be careful with her, boy,” Tony warned. “Her daddy's a nut
case. Weirdest white man I ever did meet. He”
     
“Don't be racist,” Noah groaned, running a hand through his hair.
“Tony”
    “Hey now, none of that,” Tony defended, hands raised. “All I'm
saying is, we don't know everyone we trust. That’s all. You've only
known ‘er how long?”
“Okay, Friar Lawrence,” Noah sighed. “Man, I’m exhausted.
Can we do this later?”
     
“Who? What now?”
     
“Romeo and Juliet. Shakespeare.” Noah winced before the
words left his mouth.
    “Now, that's just disturbing. Talkin’ like girls. Cut that out, boy.
You’s a man now,” Tony scolded, shaking with laughter. He
smacked Noah upside the head