Fallen (11 page)

Clearly f
eeling his discomfort, I began to withdraw the invitation
and pulled my hand back.
Upon r
ealizing what I was doing,
he had second thoughts and
quickly
reached to grasp it.

As his hand came around mine, the rush of his words registered with me. “I run hot.”

His long fingers encircled my own a
s his palm
-
twice the size of mine - pressed down, engulfing my hand.

He wasn’t kidding about the heat.

From the second we made contact, I felt as if my skin
was
shri
nk
ing
, its moisture
evaporating
, and
a
thin layer peeling back
…shrivel
ing
like a grape
that
wither
s
in the
scorching
afternoon sun.

The heat from his skin created an invisible fireball
, burning
into
my flesh
.
I
felt like I reacted instantaneously
,
but it was still too long. I
wrenched my hand free even as he pulled away.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have allowed that.”

I didn’t bother to respond. My attention was on my hand and the fact that even as the piercing pain subsided I noted that no damage had been. If it weren’t for the throbbing, I wouldn’t even have known we had touched.

“Are you hurt?” Eran asked with sincere interest.

“No,” I shook my head, more in
astonishment
than to
enforce my answer. “No, there…there are
no marks.”

Eran was leaning in for con
firmation
,
so I showed him. “See?
Nothing.”

Only after I had turned my hand over – twice – did he believe me. He straightened up, clearly remorseful, though I couldn’t understand why. It wasn’t his fault.
He didn’t know I would hold him for as long as I did.
It must have been a deep, unavoidable desire causing me to seize the opportunity and hold on despite the pain.

Eran tucked his thumbs back in his pockets
,
as if it would prevent them from doing any further
harm
.

Deciding the best course of action to help him overcome his evident guilt was to change the subject, I did just that – trying not
to wring the pain from my hand
as I spoke.

“
So
,
Eran
,
how is it that I’ve crossed paths with you more often than anyone else in this city? Are you stalking me?”
I said this
in jest
,
and thankfully my tone conveyed
it
,
despite the persistent
ache
in my hand.

“You’re sure you’re all right?” he asked again as if my answer might change. I wondered if he could somehow see that the pain lingered.

“Perfectly fine, really.”

He stared at me, disbelieving
.
After a brief pause, h
e
must have realized I wasn’t going to
confess
, so he
decided to
refute my accusation
instead
. “
I have far b
etter things to do with my time
than
to
be a stalker
.
”

He was still glancing at my hand so I pressed the conversation further, hoping to
divert
his attention. There was no sense in dragging out
our
discomfort
.
“So
how
is it then
?” I persisted
.

“How is what?” He brought his eyes back to mine. This was good. Progress.

“That I keep running
into
you?”

The side of his mouth turned up in a
confident
grin. “I suppose you’re just lucky.”

That
response
triggered anger
,
so fluid it
quickly flooded
my veins. Here I was trying to make the fact that he’d burned me a passing thought for him
,
and he used the opportunity to mock me.

In return,
I laughed
sarcastically
. “Well…Eran…It’s getting late
,
and I should be going.”
I hoped he saw through the fake cliché of those words.
Let him be offended.

The stinging throb in my hand had disappeared
now
,
so w
ithout waiting for him to reply,
I reached down to
grab my backpack
.
In truth, I was torn between wanting to stay here
and
banter, though I certainly did not want to give him any reason to believe that his cockiness was welcomed, or to leave and head home for a hamburger and tofu turkey tacos.

Fate made up my mind for me. As
I
took hold of
the
thick green
strap
,
something twitched inside.

I
paused, wondering if I’d really just felt something move.

T
he
n
a
head peered out. It was black and triangular and
its
flickering tongue test
ed
the air
toward
me.

I yanked my hand back.

T
he head
darted
forward
,
and the
ten-foot
long
body of a
shiny black snake
s
lithered out.

The next moments were a blur, running together like
ink bleeding on a page
.

I vaguely sensed that the snake
came straight at me
,
even as I ran backwards to avoid it.
It
was fast and within seconds had reached
my toes
,
even though
by then,
I was
more than ten
feet from my backpack.

Out of the corner of my
eye I saw Eran move
toward
it.
I
tried to warn him against it
,
b
ut my throat had gone dry and the sound came out a whimper.

By then, he’d reached down and seized the snake by its head.
Even in my panic I realized how fast Eran ha
d moved – far too fast. He
appeared
distorted
,
as if he were nothing more than colorful images blending together
.
On a subconscious level, s
omething registered in my min
d. His speed was not normal
,
but that thought didn’t linger
once
I saw the
snake’s
head lean back
.
It
open
ed
its jaw
and snap
ped
down
toward
Eran’s
hand.
Offering
little resistance, i
ts fangs
easily
punctured
Eran’s
flawless
skin
.
The fangs went
so deep
,
I watched
its gums
disappear
into Eran’s heated flesh
.

I heard a scream
but didn’t
immediately recogniz
e
that
it came from me.
The snake released its iron grip.
Yet,
Eran
didn’t move. Hi
s hand
remained still
. Instead, his head jerked up searching
, bewildered,
for the reason that caused my reaction.

“Your—
y
our hand,” I mumbled, pointing to where the snake had bitten him.

He glanced down at where
its fangs
had made contact. “Oh, that. Didn’t even break the skin.”

I felt my mouth fall open in shock
at his nonchalance.

“No…I saw it. I saw its fangs out. They sunk
in
…
they went
deep
into
your skin. I saw it, Eran.”

“I’m fine,” he replied calmly. “See for yourself.”

With the snake f
irmly in his grasp,
Eran’s
thumb
had been caressing
the top of its head
,
and
its
body – all
ten
feet of it –
had begu
n to stop
writhing
. After a few seconds, the snake was limp.