SEBASTIAN: Kathleen S. Allen
Tuesday, June 29th, 2010I stood in line at Trader Joe’s. Waiting to pay. I glanced around and spotted him in the lane next to me. Tall. Lean. Black wavy hair. A piece of it kept getting in his eyes and he swiped at it as he rang up groceries. He glanced over at me. Dark chocolate eyes that mesmerized.
I was drawn to him. I changed lanes. Finally it was my turn. “Paper ?” He asked with a voice filled with hints of what he could bring to me. At night. I held up my Trader Joe bag. “Cloth,” I laughed. He did too. I held out the bag and our fingers touched. An electric spark shot between us. We both jumped back at the same time. I banged into the cart behind me and he banged into the partition that separated the cashiers from each other. “Sorry,” he mumbled to no one in particular. “Sorry,” I said to the lady behind me. That stupid lock of hair fell down again and before I knew what I was doing I reached up to tuck it behind his ear.
My fingers tingling. He grinned at me. “Thanks.” I shrugged. “I’m Sebastian.” “Lina.” The lady waiting behind me cleared her throat. I handed him my credit card and he ran it through the machine. Both of us trying hard not to touch fingers again. I bolted out of there but stopped when I got to the parking lot. A huge picture window faced the lot. I could see him clearly through the glass. I watched his fluid movements.
He felt me watching and turned to stare at me. I backed away until I wasn’t able to see him again. I rubbed my hand where we had touched. I could still feel a tingling there.
I came back. Watching him through the glass. Day after day. The October weather turned chilly but still I stood and watched him. For hours. Feet turning numb with cold. Fingers unable to feel. None of it was real. Only the image placed before me behind the glass was real. Sebastian. He knew I was there. Occasionally he would glance up and nod slightly at me as if this was all planned. When his shift was done he would get in his car and leave. We never spoke. I waited until he had driven away then I left too.
Sometime in November near Thanksgiving I stood in the softly falling snow in the shadow of a parking light. The lot was nearly deserted. He was locking up. He looked my way but didn’t see me in the shadows. There was disappointment on his face. I stepped in front of him as he made his way to his car. He was startled for a moment. A black hooded figure gesturing to him.
Then he realized it was me. I was in his arms in an instant. We kissed as sparks flew between us, around us and over us. He stepped back first. “Wow.” My lips tingled with electricity. My blood was on fire. For him. He saw it in my eyes and nodded moving toward his car. I got in and we drove in silence down a lonely road to a cottage nestled in the trees.
I got out and waited for him to join me. He opened the door and invited me in. “Come on in Lina, I’ll build us a fire.” He shrugged his coat off into a chair near the door and I did the same with my cloak. I surveyed my surroundings. Stone fireplace. Spartan furnishings but comfortable chairs. A rug bearing a family crest hung over the fireplace. He handed me a glass.
“Wine,” he said softly. I drank feeling nothing. Wine does not affect me. Never has. He took a drink from his glass and grinned at me again. “I’ve thought about every day since you came to my lane.” I put my finger against his lips. “No talking, this is not the time for talking,” I said. His eyes became darker in the dim light of the cottage. He bent down and kissed my neck. Small sparks lit me on fire. I felt my knees begin to buckle but he held me up as he kissed me in the soft part of the neck. I closed my eyes enjoying the feel of his lips there.
He bit down slightly, soft. Then harder. I felt the blood ooze. He licked the droplets smacking loudly. “You’re a vampire?” I said horrified as I shoved him hard. He stepped back. A funny feeling passed through his face as he licked his lips tasting my blood again.
“You’re a werewolf?” He said, equally horrified. “I can taste it in your blood.” I held my hand against my neck. Blood oozing out between my fingers. “It’s not the full moon for several days,” I said by way of explanation. He left and came back with a towel. I held it against my neck. It wasn’t bleeding hard. He smiled at me. “Wonder if a vampire and a werewolf can…”
“If you promise not to drink me dry, maybe,” I said dabbing at my neck. He watched me intently. “If you promise not to eat me during the full moon,” he said moving toward me.
“No promises,” I said as millions of sparks enveloped the two of us.
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©2010 Kathleen S. Allen
