get back home. At my prompting smile he pushes to his feet then reaches down to the other side of the wall and picks up my fallen sweater, which I forgot in my euphoria.
“ Uh —no!” I shout. But it’s too late. He already shakes it out and of course sees the image of the Caribbean pirate on it. Pursing his lips, he freezes and his eyes go dark. “Really, this is nothing. Just a meaningless image. I swear I’m not a pirate!”
His gaze wanders up over the black fabric and meets mine. Amusement replaces the darkness in his look. One corner of his mouth twitches. “I didn’t think you were.”
A relieved sigh escaped me.
Stepping out of his rigid composure, he smiles at me, places one hand in the small of my back and steers me to the right. When he hands me the sweater, I tie it—image toward my butt—around my waist again.
We leave the town behind us and the cobblestone street gives way to a narrow dirt road. Occasionally, the waves lap against the rocky shore to my left and a faint spray of water catches my arm. The chill feels welcome against the afternoon heat.
There’s nothing in front of us but grassland to one side and the sea to the other. No other port, no ships, not even a boat. I hope we’re going to reach this ship before it takes off, and with it—my only chance to go home.
“So, what’s your name, lass?” he asks me after some time with an odd notch of amusement in his voice, clasping his hands behind his back as we walk.
“Angel…I think.”
“You think?”
I grimace. “It’s complicated.”
From the corner of my eye I see him turn his head my way, so I look at him too and find him smiling. “I’m sure I can cope,” he says.
As we walk so close to each other, I catch a whiff of seawater and leather on him and wonder if he lives close to the ocean. The note of tangerine underneath strokes my senses. He actually smells nice.
“I don’t really know where to start,” I say and scratch my head. “See…I live in the real world—” The young man interrupts me by arching one brow. “You know,” I explain, “where there are big cities…and traffic…and airplanes. And McDonald’s.” His second brow follows suit. Right, I’m on the entirely wrong track here. “Let’s just say it’s a world pretty different from yours, obviously far, far away, if no one here knows of it. I went out on my balcony last night; it was freezing cold. I slipped and fell. Only I never really hit the ground. Instead I was suddenly sky diving to Neverland.”
He silently listens. Maybe he has heard of similar cases before.
“Anyway, when I landed here, I remembered everything of my former life, just some minor information seems to have gotten lost.”
Now he laughs. “Your name is minor information?”
“I…er...” I clasp my hands, then I decide to show him my wrist with the tattoo on it. “I think this is my name, though I have no idea how or when I got this tattoo, or if it’s real for that matter.”
“It’s not,” he states in a matter-of-fact tone, surprising me. How can he tell the difference from only one quick look at it? Because I’m stunned silent for a second he adds, “I know a little about tattoos myself. See—” He grabs my wrist and tilts it. His hand is surprisingly callused. “The surface glistens in the sun. No real tattoo does that. The ink should be in your skin, not on it. Somebody painted this on you.”
Painted it on me? Who would— A sudden smile slips to my face. Paulina . She loves these things and is just the girl to make me stick them on my arms. Maybe she did it last night and I just can’t remember? What had we been doing all evening anyway?
“Where have you gone?”
Startled out of my musing, I blink and focus on the guy’s curious blue eyes.
“It seemed like I’d lost you for a moment. Everything okay?”
“Yeah. I was just trying to remember what really happened right before my accident. My memory feels awkwardly… spongy
“ Uh —no!” I shout. But it’s too late. He already shakes it out and of course sees the image of the Caribbean pirate on it. Pursing his lips, he freezes and his eyes go dark. “Really, this is nothing. Just a meaningless image. I swear I’m not a pirate!”
His gaze wanders up over the black fabric and meets mine. Amusement replaces the darkness in his look. One corner of his mouth twitches. “I didn’t think you were.”
A relieved sigh escaped me.
Stepping out of his rigid composure, he smiles at me, places one hand in the small of my back and steers me to the right. When he hands me the sweater, I tie it—image toward my butt—around my waist again.
We leave the town behind us and the cobblestone street gives way to a narrow dirt road. Occasionally, the waves lap against the rocky shore to my left and a faint spray of water catches my arm. The chill feels welcome against the afternoon heat.
There’s nothing in front of us but grassland to one side and the sea to the other. No other port, no ships, not even a boat. I hope we’re going to reach this ship before it takes off, and with it—my only chance to go home.
“So, what’s your name, lass?” he asks me after some time with an odd notch of amusement in his voice, clasping his hands behind his back as we walk.
“Angel…I think.”
“You think?”
I grimace. “It’s complicated.”
From the corner of my eye I see him turn his head my way, so I look at him too and find him smiling. “I’m sure I can cope,” he says.
As we walk so close to each other, I catch a whiff of seawater and leather on him and wonder if he lives close to the ocean. The note of tangerine underneath strokes my senses. He actually smells nice.
“I don’t really know where to start,” I say and scratch my head. “See…I live in the real world—” The young man interrupts me by arching one brow. “You know,” I explain, “where there are big cities…and traffic…and airplanes. And McDonald’s.” His second brow follows suit. Right, I’m on the entirely wrong track here. “Let’s just say it’s a world pretty different from yours, obviously far, far away, if no one here knows of it. I went out on my balcony last night; it was freezing cold. I slipped and fell. Only I never really hit the ground. Instead I was suddenly sky diving to Neverland.”
He silently listens. Maybe he has heard of similar cases before.
“Anyway, when I landed here, I remembered everything of my former life, just some minor information seems to have gotten lost.”
Now he laughs. “Your name is minor information?”
“I…er...” I clasp my hands, then I decide to show him my wrist with the tattoo on it. “I think this is my name, though I have no idea how or when I got this tattoo, or if it’s real for that matter.”
“It’s not,” he states in a matter-of-fact tone, surprising me. How can he tell the difference from only one quick look at it? Because I’m stunned silent for a second he adds, “I know a little about tattoos myself. See—” He grabs my wrist and tilts it. His hand is surprisingly callused. “The surface glistens in the sun. No real tattoo does that. The ink should be in your skin, not on it. Somebody painted this on you.”
Painted it on me? Who would— A sudden smile slips to my face. Paulina . She loves these things and is just the girl to make me stick them on my arms. Maybe she did it last night and I just can’t remember? What had we been doing all evening anyway?
“Where have you gone?”
Startled out of my musing, I blink and focus on the guy’s curious blue eyes.
“It seemed like I’d lost you for a moment. Everything okay?”
“Yeah. I was just trying to remember what really happened right before my accident. My memory feels awkwardly… spongy
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