Amber Frost (9 page)

I hurried over to the wide cement stairway that led down to the harbor from the street. The crowds were even thicker below alongside the water. I wove my way through the crowds of tourists, and families with young children, their excited smiles matching my own and their eyes alight with the same joyful innocence that I felt. I searched the faces, scanning the crowds for the familiar messy, blackish-blue hair, for a pair of mysterious eyes with long dark lashes, perfectly shaped lips and smooth cheeks. I knew Sebastian was waiting for me somewhere nearby and I felt strangely anxious to find him. Search as I might though, he was nowhere to be found.

It was nearly 10:20 am and I’d walked up and down the length of the harbor twice. A few times I’d been distracted – there were displays of hand-made jewelry, an exciting juggling act and an artist sketching caricatures that had attracted my attention but never for longer than a few moments. And yet still, I’d seen no sign of Sebastian. I was starting to feel doubtful. Maybe he’d decided it was a bad idea to be friends after all. Was I wrong in coming here today? Was it too late to turn back?

I could hear the sounds of someone playing flamenco guitar. I drifted towards the fast-paced, intricate melody without thinking. The notes were coming so fast, I imagined the musician’s fingers must be flying on the strings. The mental image the music was creating began to distract me from my doubts. My attention had been caught again as something in my body, perhaps in my soul, responded to the music. The beautiful playing pulled me in.

It was easy to see where the music was coming from. There was a thick crowd nearby, the source of the intricate melody unseen at its center. I paused on the outskirts of the crowd, reluctant to rudely push my way forward. The music beckoned to me though, made my pulse race faster. A warm flush was spreading across my cheeks despite the cold morning air. I plunged into the crowd, worming my way forward as I was driven by a feverish desire to reach the source of this exotic, tantalizing composition. A few people started to protest as I squeezed past them but one look at my face quelled their complaints. Perhaps they forgave me because of my appearance, perhaps they saw the strange, raw need in my eyes. Either way, I quickly made it to my goal.

His dark eyes met mine the moment I broke through to the front of the crowd. I had been right about his fingers, they danced on the guitar, plucking the strings and tapping the frets in a rapid, mesmerizing rhythm. How he maintained such perfect concentration without ever looking was beyond me. And he certainly wasn’t looking at the guitar in his hands – his eyes were only on me. A slow, warm smile spread across his face as he saw me step forward. I flushed again, this time with pleasure, to be the cause of Sebastian’s joy.

His fingers slowed on the strings. The music came to a smooth stop, the last notes echoing magically in the salty, harbor air. The crowd erupted in applause. I clapped politely while butterflies erupted in my stomach. He was still staring only at me, his eyes intense beneath his thick, black lashes. People moved in between us, blocking me from his view as they went to drop money into the open guitar case in front of him.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Sebastian urged in his beautiful, irresistible voice. He had reappeared so suddenly by my side it had made me jump. I looked around in confusion.

“But your guitar – the money…”

“Neither are mine. Come on, I’ll explain,” he promised. He grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the crowd, leading me back towards the cement stairway that led up to the street.

“So you’re a street performer?” I asked, lifting a skeptical brow at him. He laughed, his eyes twinkling in response.

“I wasn’t performing on the street,” he argued. “And like I said, neither instrument nor profit were mine – I was merely helping out the owner of both. He was pretty good himself, he was just having a hard time attracting a crowd so I offered to bring a few people over for him.” Sebastian looked at me sideways as he spoke, a joking smile on his face. I was powerless against his charm, automatically smiling back at him. He still held my hand, his grip warm and firm. I linked my fingers through his. The gesture felt familiar and thrilling all at the same time.

“You were amazing,” I told him, though I tried not to sound too impressed. “Your music certainly brought me over anyway. I might not have found you otherwise.”

“Yes, you would have,” he answered, confidently. He smoothly and casually extracted his fingers from mine as he spoke, stuffing his hand into the pocket of the leather jacket he wore. For a fleeting moment I felt a pang of rejection. As soon as I identified the feeling though, I almost laughed at myself. My thoughts and emotions were all mixed up today. Obviously, Sebastian was just a friend.

“You lied to me though,” I accused him, my voice taking on a teasing tone.

“I did?”

“I thought
you
were going to find
me
,” I reminded him.

“Didn’t I?” he challenged. Though his expression was serious, his eyes were laughing at me.

“So are you going to show me today?” I asked. My thoughts were jumping around almost as fast as my emotions and I was making very little sense. Sebastian didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seemed to be quite amused and intrigued by my random questions.

“Show you what?” He paused at the top of the stairs to study me curiously.

“You really do forget a lot,” I teased. He seemed to find that very funny.

“I can’t deny it – but please be patient with an old fool.”

“You said you’d show me reality,” I reminded him. “So I’m here, I’m ready.” He grew more somber at my pronouncement, the smile slowly fading from his face.

“I don’t think you are,” he argued softly, almost sadly. “But you’re right – we’ve got to start somewhere. Let’s go to the park. Do you want to take your car or my bike?” It was then that I really took notice of the leather jacket he was wearing. I fought the sudden surge of panic.

“No – no motorcycles. I’ve never been on one and I’m not supposed to…” I let my feeble objections trail off as he smirked at my reaction. “We could walk,” I suggested, hopefully. It was a warm enough day for November and I was enjoying being outside.

“We could,” he considered, his lips pursing together thoughtfully. “Alright, let’s go.” He started walking as soon as he decided. I had to hurry to catch up.

It took us nearly forty-five minutes to walk from the harbor, past the impressive stone government buildings and the Provincial museum and up to the outskirts of Beacon Hill Park. We walked slowly, at a comfortable, leisurely pace, and even stopped to buy coffees and muffins along the way at a little café. I tried not to scarf my muffin down – it was the first carbohydrate I’d had in nearly a week. I enjoyed it almost as much as the company I was keeping.

Sebastian was, as always, completely interesting, thoroughly enthralling and absolutely confusing and strange. He did most of the talking as we walked, telling me his views on happiness and his philosophy to life. For the most part it seemed he did what he wanted, when he wanted; he listened to his heart, followed his instincts, indulged his desires. He didn’t care about what others thought, only what he thought of himself. It was selfish to some extent but it also seemed to be a strangely satisfying and enjoyable existence. I was happy enough to listen to him chatter away. Sometimes I added my own thoughts and, more often than not, my own objections. He always had an answer though, always explaining his thoughts to me patiently, if not confusingly with an ancient wisdom to his tone. It was nice to discover that though we were very different people, we still shared many values and beliefs. We both had strong morals and spiritual faith even though some details of our beliefs differed. We both valued honesty, creativity and kindness, and we both felt the world was a magical place, full of infinite possibilities. Outwardly, Sebastian was my complete opposite but at our cores, we were the same.

For most of our walk, I found myself just listening to him, allowing his words to wash over me in their smooth, musical pattern as I absorbed the emotion and intensity behind them. Other times I carefully dissected each thought, each sentence, allowing his ideas to really sink in, to reflect upon and question my own life. He gave me a lot to think about. He was obviously very intelligent and seemed to have much more experience and wisdom than his eighteen years had given him. Our conversation was enthralling and his company was just as compelling. I could hardly take my eyes off him as he spoke, becoming lost in studying the smooth contours of his face.

I suddenly realized Sebastian had fallen silent. He was staring back at me now, an amused smile on his face as he caught me admiring him. I looked away in embarrassment. That was when I noticed we had arrived at Beacon Hill Park.

“So we’re here – what now?” I asked, brusquely, still feeling a little embarrassed. He grinned back at me as we walked past the park’s large, carved sign that announced its name and into the quiet and peaceful woods.

“I want to show you something,” he told me quietly, his dark eyes mysterious and amused. The wind began picking up as he spoke, swirling the fallen leaves around us and making the hairs on my arms stand on end. I waited for him to say more, but instead he merely stared at me in silence, a small smile on his face. The wind blew even harder, its intensity increasing with the emotion in Sebastian’s eyes. I watched in amazement as the leaves flew up and around us, higher and higher, floating and spinning in a supernatural wind. The air was suddenly full of dead leaves, swirling steadily against the skeletal trees. I began shaking, unsure if it were from the sudden cold wind or the strange autumnal cyclone that we were now in the center of. I could hardly believe what I was seeing.

“You’re cold,” Sebastian noticed. He ignored the swirling leaves as he stepped closer to me, his eyes so dark and serious. I forgot about the strange wind, the impossibly spiraling leaves, the cold, the park and everything else as he reached out to gently place one warm hand to either side of my face. His face was suddenly so close to mine, his beauty even more obvious and overwhelming up close. My heart began pounding wildly, my head was spinning as he leaned in closer to me. I wasn’t sure what was happening, only that I didn’t want it to stop.

He pulled up the hood of my sweatshirt, tenderly tucking the loose wisps of my hair in place and then quickly stepped back from me. My lips parted in surprise, an objection frozen in place as he pulled away. For a moment, I could have sworn I’d seen something in his eyes – an emotion, a desire that was a fiery echo of my own.

“I thought you always did what you wanted,” I blurted out, my voice slightly breathless. I vaguely noticed that the strange, supernatural wind had abruptly died back down to a more seasonable gust, the leaves were already resettling upon the ground. It felt like I had imagined it all. He studied me warily, his eyes a dark, unreadable gray.

“Sometimes what we want in the moment is not the same as what we want for ourselves in the larger scheme of things,” he answered carefully. I frowned, confused. He laughed but this time it sounded forced. “Come on, I still want to show you something,” he reminded me. He tugged at my hand but I stood frozen in place.

“But I thought… the leaves, the wind – wasn’t that you?”

He stared at me incredulously, making me hear the ridiculousness of my own accusation. I blushed once more. How did he scramble my thoughts and my feelings this way? I wasn’t even making sense to myself.

“Of course it wasn’t, I’m being stupid,” I muttered, shaking my head to try to clear my thoughts. “I’m sorry. It’s just sometimes, when I’m around you… well, things just seem to happen. It’s like you have some kind of strange magic… I don’t know how to explain it.” I glanced at him anxiously, expecting to see judgment and ridicule on his face. To my surprise though, he was considering me seriously, his face solemn, his eyes weary.

“Things do happen around me,” he reluctantly admitted. He hesitated, as if debating on what to say next. “It’s not like you think though – I don’t do it on purpose. I can’t control anything really. It’s just my presence seems to sometimes… twist fate.” He watched me carefully as he spoke, studying my reaction.

I didn’t answer right away. I took a moment to consider him, to slowly process what he had just said. It didn’t make sense, it wasn’t possible – at least it shouldn’t be but for some reason, I knew that it was. As impossible as it may have seemed, I undoubtedly believed him.

“My drawing, the coins, the rainbow – it was all because of you,” I realized, my voice a whispered hush. “And at the Gala, the wine – was that you too?” I felt a little silly, realizing he might start laughing at any moment and claim to be playing a joke on me. He didn’t laugh. He nodded slowly, watching me anxiously. “I thought something was going on. The Jensons must know too, don’t they? But… how? Why? Have strange things always just ‘happened’ around you?”

“As long as I can remember.” He frowned, looking away from me to the forest. He looked upset, the corners of his mouth turned down slightly, there was a strain in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I sympathized, automatically. He looked back at me suddenly, his eyes bright once more with curiosity and… something else.

“I wish I could tell you more, but I can’t – not now.” He was frowning again, his moods flickering back and forth so quickly I was struggling to keep up.

“Why not?”

“I just – can’t. Please, you’ll have to trust me.”