Creators(67)

It meant that I was making an impression.

James turned on his heel and began moving down the hall. I sat frozen in place. I had been dismissed without a word. Whatever I thought had happened between us as he stared down at me had only been my imagination. An emptiness had threatened to consume me each time James had left my life, but somehow, this was worse. He was so close, and he didn’t know I existed.

And then he stopped and I couldn’t breathe. Without turning back to look at me, he reached a hand in the air and impatiently beckoned me to follow after him.

I couldn’t have stayed in that spot if I wanted to. I would have followed James anywhere. No matter what version of the man I loved walked before me, he was still the man I loved.

I nearly had to run to keep up with him. When he finally stopped, he opened the door and pointed inside the room. He didn’t look at me once. Not even when I moved past him, our bodies nearly touching. Every hair on my arm stood up with anticipation. So close. I had been so close.

James cleared his throat again.

He had led me to a small medical station. “Sit down,” he said, his back still turned on me as he began to rifle through cabinets. His voice was empty, devoid of any emotion. No concern. No anger. I knew what it was to be the person who felt nothing, but to see James become this was the saddest thing I could imagine. I managed to plop myself up on the medical table that stood in the center of the room. Sure that James couldn’t see me, I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths.

He had warned me that he was forgetting me. That he needed to forget me. This man before me wasn’t my James, and I had to watch myself.

James turned to face me holding a bottle of alcohol and gauze in his hand. He had brought me here to help me. To clean my wound. There was a part of my James still in there, after all. Tears pooled in my eyes and my lip trembled.

“Bow your head and I’ll…” His voice trailed off, seeing my expression.

I sniffled and did what I was told. An eternity spread out before us. He neither spoke nor moved. With my head bent down, I wondered if James had fled.

“This is going to hurt,” he finally said softly. I nodded, too afraid that if I opened my mouth I would betray myself. I would tell him everything. What he meant to me. What I meant to him. And while I knew there was a part of the man I loved still inside, I wasn’t entirely sure how much of him was still that boy.

James gently pressed an alcohol-soaked cloth against my head. I hissed at the pain. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“It’s all right,” I whispered.

“I don’t think he did any real damage. If you start to feel nauseous, you must let someone know. But I don’t think you have a concussion.”

“Thank you,” I managed despite the dryness of my throat. I wanted to reach out for him so badly. He was right there. We were alone. We were together.

“Just doing my job,” he replied.

“Taking care of natural girls who other men hit is your job?” I asked, my voice all breath and want.

James cleared his throat. His hand slowly moved from my wound, but he didn’t pull it entirely away. I was afraid to breathe, to move at all, afraid that I would shatter whatever moment was happening between us. The tips of his fingers slowly moved through my hair. My eyes fluttered and it took everything in me not to sigh. His thumb grazed my cheek, and I couldn’t help but lean into his hand.

“I’m sorry for the way Terrance treated you tonight. You didn’t deserve that. He is angry at his father. A weak boy who is upset because he doesn’t get enough attention, but what he fails to see is that Harper has a lot on his shoulders. He spends all his time searching for something very important to the council, a creator he desperately needs,” James explained.

My eyes popped open. Searching for a creator. They were still looking for Abrams.

“So, Terrance does foolish things to try and get his attention. It’s all very…human,” James went on.

Human.

The way he said it: disgusted. Something wasn’t right.

“Tell me, girl. You look after him. Have you stumbled across anything else the boy may have taken from his father’s room? A second map, perhaps?” he asked, his thumb continuing to graze my cheek.

Something inside of me twisted and broke. I slapped James’s hand away from my face. “What are you doing?” I demanded.

James stepped away from me, his hands held up in surrender. “The touching? I can tell you like it.” He motioned to my reddened cheeks. “I can do it some more. I just need you to help me a little.”

I wanted to throw up. James had been playing me. Trying to gain my trust so he could use me to discover the location of the second map. Little did he know, it was sitting in my pocket.