“Then what place would suit you in giving me an explanation?”
He pursed his lips and scanned our surroundings, taking in the skyscrapers with an amazed expression. “I do not know,” he said, shaking his head.
“What kind of an answer is that? And how did you heal? What did you do back there?”
With a grunt of frustration, he pulled me into the shadow of a building with enough roughness that I fell against him. My heart beat in a prickly half-fearful, half-excited way that was very unusual for me. My free hand was splayed over his chest and my skin tingled where it touched his. My body seemed to leach warmth from his. The guy was hot. Literally. Perhaps he was feverish.
The fact that I was now feeling feverish too irritated me. I didn’t go for dangerous guys, especially bald guys wearing skirts who I couldn’t figure out. He was different from any guy I had ever met.
As he squeezed my shoulders to help me regain my footing, he murmured, “You ask too many questions, Lily. Your thoughts are too busy. It is an extra distraction for me in a world already full of chaos.” He patted my shoulder gently. “Try to put your mind at ease. I mean you no harm.”
“That’s probably what all alien abductors say,” I muttered, wondering why my tightly controlled sarcastic thoughts were suddenly escaping my lips.
“I must rest for a few moments,” he explained matter-of-factly, and then easily let me go when I squirmed in his grip. He slid away a few inches so his body was fully enveloped in the hot sunshine and then leaned back and closed his eyes, trusting that I wouldn’t leave. I smiled, tightening my grip on my bag and preparing to run, only to find that I couldn’t lift my feet. What is going on? I thought. I needed to calm down. When I finally stopped thinking about leaving, I could take a step.
For several minutes, I tested my ability to move. I could walk in circles, sit on a nearby bench, walk over to a garbage can, but if I took too many steps away from him, my body seized up. It was like there was an invisible chain keeping me tethered to him. Something is seriously wrong with me!
I tried to flag down someone to explain that I was sort of a prisoner, but the words kept coming out wrong. Instead of pleading for help, I’d ask to borrow a pen. When I tried to report the man to a passing cop, I said, “Nice day, isn’t it, Officer?”
I needed to get away from him. No. That’s wrong. Why would I want to leave him? My mind seemed to be playing tricks on me. Eventually, I accepted the fact that I had to stay with him for the time being. When I did, I felt like I could breathe more easily and my thoughts became more focused. Sitting on the wooden bench, I studied him and waited, struggling to understand what kind of hold he had over me.
If I were like the other girls at my school, I would have been in tears, but instead, my mind filled with questions. This was how I dealt with stressful situations. I calmly thought things through until I found a solution.
How does a guy who has just been in a serious accident heal so quickly from his injuries? Who is he? What is this strange power he uses to manipulate me? What does he want from me? I rubbed my shoulder. I needed some pain reliever. The headache of all headaches was coming on; I could feel it inching up the back of my neck. And why do I feel like I’ve been run over by a freight train? I don’t even know this guy’s name.
After several minutes of watching him recline against the wall, I grew restless. Pulling out my notebook and pen, I turned to a fresh sheet of paper and then paused, not knowing where to start. He either didn’t mind or didn’t notice me studying him, so I took my time perusing his face.