The Watchers by Lynnie Purcell Page A

the
answer to that, but not able to admit it to him. It was because I
could read her thoughts. I didn’t have that same advantage with
him. It made me uneasy…for several reasons.
    “It’s just different!”
    “Because I’m a man?”
    “Because you’re as uniform as the rest!” I
said hatefully. He had cornered me and I resented him for it.
    He looked up at me through his eyelashes, his
irises turning completely black again. I swallowed hard, but kept
my ground. His scary looks wouldn’t intimidate me.
    “You should try getting to know me before you
make those kinds of decisions,” he warned coldly. “And you
shouldn’t judge people. It’s a sign of sloppy thinking.”
    “I don’t judge people!” I exclaimed, my
indignation overriding my fear and the oddness of the moment.
    “You’re doing a mighty fine impression of
it!”
    We stared at each other in mutual anger, both
of us unrelenting. My stubbornness didn’t last long. I thought
about everything he had just said, trying to work past the burning
emotion. Guilt started to rise to the surface. Deep down, I knew I
was scared to trust him; scared because I was attracted to him in
ways I’d never really been attracted to someone before. I could
only see that leading me to pain and regret. I was scared because I
was used to erecting barriers, not tearing them down. And, I was
upset at how easily I saw him tearing those barriers down. My
anger, a defensive reflex, had me putting blame on him. But I knew
better. Surely, I wasn’t that infantile?
    “I’m sorry,” I said finally.
    He snorted in disbelief, though his eyes
returned to green. I decided to be honest with him, knowing it
would expose more of my soul to him. I wanted him to understand
though. It felt important.
    “I am! I didn’t mean to judge you, it’s just,
well, you’re right. I’m not used to people being this interested in
my friendship. I’ve always been the island and the rock. I’m not
used to letting other people be a rock as well. Letting them be the
water that flows around me is more my thing.”
    “That was sort of poetic in a, ‘you need some
help,’ way,” he said, his angry face melting into a boyish grin. He
turned away and started walking, forgiving me easily. I hurried to
catch up, glad he wasn’t holding a grudge. “And to answer your
question, I feel totally and completely alone. Every single day is
a fight against that loneliness. Even around my family…it’s
there.”
    There was something familiar about his words;
familiar because I felt the same way. I felt my opinion of him
shift.
    “Well then, I think we should be friends,” I
said.
    He started laughing. “I thought it first,
remember that.”
    “Yes, but I said it first.”
    “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
    I hadn’t realized we had made it to the front
door. I blinked and looked back at my porch I didn’t remember
crossing. “What are you, a vampire?” I asked dryly.
    The memory of his black eyes flashed in front
of my eyes.
    “Come again?” he asked.
    “Vampires have to be invited in to your….
never mind,” I trailed off not wanting to give away mine and
Ellen’s horror novel addiction.
    “I won’t come inside unless you’d like me to.
A gentleman waits for an invitation.”
    I dug the key out from under the mat and
opened the door, gesturing grandly for him to enter. “After you,
sir.”
    “ Thanks.” Daniel crossed the threshold,
and, when the earth didn’t collapse, I shut the door behind us.
“Can I ask you a question, then?” he asked.
    “Sure.”
    “Did that hurt?”
    He turned pointed to my nose ring. I laughed
at his randomness.
    “Not nearly as bad as the tattoos did.”
    “You have a tattoo? Wait…tattoos in the
plural?” He followed me, walking right on my heels as I made my way
to the kitchen. “Seriously, do you have one? Where?”
    I shrugged and didn’t answer, enjoying the
fascination in his eyes as I turned around. “I’ll get your jacket.
Wait