Gifted Connections: Book 2(8)

I found my feet running north. I had traveled this way many times. If I stayed on this road for another five or so miles, I would see the imposing gates that led up to the Bell estates. You couldn’t see the house from the road, but the gates were daunting enough to deter any trespassers. The only way you were getting in was through the key pad, the pin number only known by the residents, otherwise you would have to be buzzed in.

My mind wanted to run all the way there, prove to them I knew them, but if I couldn’t convince Gavin, how was I supposed to convince the whole family? I could show them my mark, but the guys had tattooed over them long ago to allay any suspicions. Anyone who knew the family intimately knew that the guys all sported the η on them. No one realized, except for the guys, that it was a connections mark. After all, they were an anomaly. We were an anomaly.

My legs and lungs couldn’t push past the two-mile mark, so I turned back around and started my long trek back. I used to run over 6 miles and it came easily. Not anymore. I found my eyes wanting to tear up once more.

Once upon a time, I was considered almost cold, aloof. After years of abuse, I had built walls to protect my heart, protect my mind. In little less than two months of knowing the guys and becoming a somewhat dysfunctional family, those walls had slowly but surely tumbled. I became more sensitive and emotional. It was easier having a frozen heart, because the thought of being separated from them was tearing me apart.



I barely made it back to the apartment complex. My legs hurt, and my lungs were on fire. I cooled down by walking the moment I got to the parking lot. I breathed heavily, raising my hands above my head, clasping them. I tried to inhale through my nose and exhale through my mouth, but my breathing came out jagged. I could feel rivulets of sweat pouring down my face, my back, my legs. I was thankful for the nip in the air right now. The cool breeze danced across my overheated skin.

When I got to the steps leading up to the apartment, I gripped the handrail in my hands to get my balance momentarily before grabbing my toes with one hand and pulling my ankle up to my rear, stretching my quad. After counting silently to thirty, I grabbed the opposite foot and did the same movement on the opposite side. I did this once more on both sides, before I bent over from my waist and touched my palms to the sidewalk, my knees together, stretching out my hamstrings.

“With flexibility like that, you must be a dancer or gymnast,” a familiar voice said from behind me.

I let out a startled yelp, before turning around. 5 feet from me was my Noah, I mean Noah, I thought ruefully. He looked as handsome as he ever did, with his wavy auburn hair and laughing hazel eyes. Today they were more on the greyish, green, gold side. His eyes were known to change from day to day, depending on his mood and what he was wearing. The freckles that sprinkled his nose and cheeks could almost be considered boyish if it wasn’t for his strong masculine features.

I felt a sharp pang when I noticed he looked a lot like he had when I first met him. Healthy, robust, normal. His eyes weren’t blood shot from imbibing in one too many drinks. They danced with an inner light that had been unique to him. His skin tone was no longer wan and pale, but the tan of summer still clung to him. I fought the urge to hug him, tell him I missed us, the us we were before things got complicated.

Instead, I put a self-conscious hand to my hair, knowing my hair had begun to tumble down from the high messy bun I had put it in. My tank top clung to me like a second skin because of the sweat that was still running down my body. I was almost positive my face was bright red. Some girls glistened and looked attractive when they worked out—I looked like a hot mess.

My eyes wildly searched his, hoping for a spark of recognition, praying something within him would realize who I was. Even though we never got around to making our connection, there was a time we were in sync and had a chemistry that couldn’t be denied.

“Dancer or gymnast?” he queried with a knowing grin. I’m sure he thought I was dumbstruck by his dashing figure in his light khaki pants, moss green button up shirt, dark brown pea coat, and a warm-toned scarf casually draped around his neck. The guys always dressed nicely when they were out in public, like they were off to a photo shoot. Today was no different.

“Neither,” I finally said after clearing my throat. “I mean,” I added quickly, hoping to drum up a conversation with him. “When I was younger I took dance and gymnastics, but it’s been years.”

“Sometimes our muscle memory, never leaves us,” he said with a wicked grin and I couldn’t help but notice that he was checking me out. Even being the sweaty, casual, hot mess, that I was.

I knew he had once been a dancer. The guys had made fun of him, but he was never without a date in middle school or high school because of it. He had taken advantage of the fact that the male to female ratio in the typical dance class was in his favor.

I tilted my head to the side, playing na?ve. “It sounds like you are an expert on the human body,” I said in a flirting tone.

I used to be so socially awkward and kept most people at arm’s length. Watching and being around Noah, Jaxson, and Troy had taught me the fine art of flirting. I had always been a quick thinker and somewhat witty, but they had given me confidence to flirt with ease.

His lips tilted even more. He seemed more than receptive to my flirty overtures. Part of me was annoyed that he was so easily won over, but the other part of me knew at this time in the past, he had only known Stacey for a small period of time. They hadn’t dated that long before I came into his life. It was his need to give me ‘time’ and ‘space’ that had pushed their relationship even closer. The closer I had gotten to the other guys, the further I had pushed him in Stacey’s arms. I knew I was to blame for not creating our connection. If I had, maybe I wouldn’t be here.