The Guardian by A.L. Hawke

Author:A.L. Hawke [Hawke, A.L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub

6

An Eloquence In Terror

I’m walking the winding path up the hill once more, this time holding hands with my man. I guide him through an alleyway beside another cute pink building, along a cobblestone street, and up a narrow private walkway that I found when I wandered around the other night. I know exactly where I’m going. To my right, behind some trees, is a steep drop off the hillside. There’s a red line falling off the horizon into the sea. The sun is just creeping down under the water. We left our hotel room the minute it started getting dark.

I slept and I slept well during the day. God, the past couple days have been restless. But there’s always time to sleep after vacation, I suppose. Now I’m trying to do what Cora suggested—enjoy my vacay. Lots of luck. My lover here is in even more trouble now.

Should I tell him about Arachne?

Just tell him.

But I’m worried he’ll get into trouble if they catch him and question him.

Hey, wait. What am I saying! What do I mean “if they question him”?

Don’t think about stuff like that!

Well, maybe I’m not telling him because I’m thinking he’ll get mad.

He’s the one who snuck along on the trip, Gorgi!

Fine. Just be quiet, Medusa.

My lover squeezes my hand to remind me he’s walking beside me. Then I catch a glimpse of his incredible smile. God, I love him. I love just being with him, you know. Yes, I’m glad he came. I really am.

I turn another corner and Mr. Handsome follows. Then…voilà. We’re here.

Shopping!

My panacea for all worry is this small nook of swanky shops along the main street. The shop I’ve been dying to go to looks quite ordinary. The clothes aren’t. They’ve got all these summery clothes that are just to die for. The metal racks aren’t very attractive, but the dresses and bathing suits are. The shop is almost empty. That’s because it’s closing time and it’s a pretty quiet time of the year. One of the bummers here is that all the shops close early, which really sucks for a lamia-like night creature like myself.

Here’s a large mirror near the cashier—a mirror I’m now using to do something I rarely do in public. Looking at myself. “So? What do you think?” I brush my long hair back with my hand. No bun tonight. Yeah, I’m on the wild side. “Well?”

I’ve got on this super gorge white cotton romper, cork sandals, and large shades. My boyfriend glances up from his cellphone.

“You’d look good in anything, Gorgiana.”

So true. But I frown because I really want to know his thoughts.

“It looks really good on you,” he adds with a smile.

“Thanks.”

I look back in the mirror. No, no, it’s…too good. This is why I wear granny pants in the library and keep my wigglies tied in a bun.

I’m back in the dressing room. My date’s been a good sport. He’s back to staring at his phone. I get it. We talked about dressing him up, but he complained so much that we shifted to me—which suits me fine.

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