I hated how he said that, like I was deficient if I didn’t. It made my face heat with shame.
“Tessa.”
“What?”
“Your sister suggested Tessa.”
He chuckled humorlessly. “Of course she did.” His chair shook as his weight plummeted against it. “Putain, mais qu’est ce qu’elle m’énerve avec ses merdes.” Damnit, she really annoys me with her shit stirring.
There was a story behind that, I was sure of it. Regardless, the name Tessa was growing on me. It fit, even though I wasn’t quite sure how.
“That name not good enough for you?”
A grunt, that was all I got. Lovely, so we were back to the silent treatment as he went back to doing whatever he was doing with his papers. I sat there waiting, not quite sure for what. At the same time, I wasn’t ready yet to return to my bed, where he and everyone else who wasn’t a doctor, therapist, or nurse ignored me.
In my boredom, I pressed my fingers to my pulse point on my wrist. The steady thump thump resonated throughout my entire body. My heel picked up the rhythm and tapped against the chair leg. I got a flow started, the beats crisp, the tempo rising and falling.
“Ma petite rescapée un peu perchée.” My slightly crazy little survivor. “Pourquoi cela m’est-il si difficile?” Why is this so difficult for me?
I ignored him, too absorbed in how right following the tempo felt. I wished I was holding something—what wasn’t quite clear—but there was this distant echo over my collarbone and beneath my chin. The fingers on my right hand plucked the air. My other foot swished across the floor, back and forth, before adding in a stomp. Over and over, I did it, getting lost in the tune that was slowly composing in my head. Before long, both my feet slid, tapped, and stomped along the floor until something crumpled beneath one of my stomps and stabbed into my heel.
I hissed on a soft cry, my music cut off. Slowly, I bent over to retrieve whatever it was. Paper. At least that was what it had once been. It was folded over and over with crevices and points and patterned into a shape I couldn’t quite decipher.
“Origami,” I whispered with awe.
Chapter 11
Six Years Ago
Colorreplacedthedarkness.Blue skies with scattered clouds. Brown tree trunks, some with emerald foliage and others with pink cherry blossoms. Yellow dandelions poked out from the mowed lawn, swaying with the breeze. The green grass tickled my legs as I ran through the yard toward the boy, or should I say ‘man’ of my dreams, now that he was over nineteen and all.
“Tessa, where are you going?” one of my friends loudly hissed from behind me. “The game’s not over.”
It was for me. Adrien was hunkered down at the picnic table, carefully bent over his origami while the adults barbecued closer to the house and most of us younger people played hide-and-seek. His dark hair shaded his gaze from the world, and all I wanted was to tuck the strands behind his ear and stroke my finger down his facial scar.
He only played when I was the seeker. The moment anyone else took that role, he sat the game out. My girlfriends grumbled about the unfairness, but I loved it.
“Paper boy,” I called out on approach.
My friends giggled and shrieked playfully in the distance. The birds chirped in the trees. The scent of grilled filet mignon and sausages in the air made my mouth water. Everything was just perfect, especially him.
He lifted his head and rolled his eyes at me, even though a smile teased at his lips.
“Do not call me that.”
“Got you to pay attention.”
“You little brat.”
If I were anyone else, those words would probably be a threat, but not to me. Man, I loved his accent. Smooth and breathy, it gave me the best goose bumps. Dark hair that was just a little too long, dark-blue eyes you could get lost in, a sharp jawline made to rest on my head, a scar on his face that gave him that touch of danger his family was known for, abs for days, and tattoos down his arm and back that just made me want to fan myself. He was the most attractive man I had ever seen.
My human-sized Gilly. My paper boy mafia man. My future husband, and I wasn’t just saying that because he was dreamy.
He was technically my fiancé ever since Babbo and his dad signed the alliance contract about eight years ago, even though none of my friends knew it yet. To them, he was just my pen pal and close friend who came to visit from Europe every so often. I made the mistake of trying to push the issue with them almost a year ago, just after I turned thirteen, and the delusional comments were off the charts. Rosa even told me that since he had never even kissed me, there was no way I meant anything more to him than a kid friend, or worse, a kid sister.
Well, I was going to get that kiss by the end of the summer or at least before he turned twenty in January, no matter what it took.
“Whatcha making?” I sidled up into the place next to him on the bench. The orange paper in his hands crackled and rustled as he scratched its folds into the shape he wanted.
