her target, found her mercifully close by, and took aim.
Charlie popped up next to her just as the projectile nut hit Heather right on the cheek.
"Ow!" Heather protested, slapping at her face.
"Nice!" Charlie whisper-shouted.
Gaia cracked up laughing and rolled under the table. Charlie was practically crying from the effort to hold in his mirth.
"I didn't actually just do that," Gaia said, holding the heel of her hand to her forehead.
Charlie shrugged. "I'm buzzed -- what's your excuse?"
Gaia had a slew of great excuses. She was obviously being controlled by an alien race. Or Ella had slipped some kind of upper into her water. Or she was asleep and dreaming. It had to be one of those because laughing wasn't something Gaia did in real life. Almost ever.
"Do you think it's safe to stand up?" Charlie said.
"Whatever," Gaia answered, pushing herself to her feet. She looked around, expecting the dagger glare, but Heather was off in the corner, flirting with some kid with an underdeveloped goatee. Interesting. Did this mean that Sam was a thing of Heather's past? The possibility brought yet another smile to Gaia's lips. Somebody should be writing this down. Recording it all for posterity.
Gaia Moore. Monday, November 30. Five-plus smiles. Actual laughter. Subject obviously acutely disturbed.
"You have an amazing smile," Charlie said, his voice so close, Gaia almost thought it was coming from inside her own head. She was surprised when it sent her heart racing. Her mind searched for something to say. She was sure there was a proper response for something like that, but it wasn't anywhere in Gaia's memory banks.
She just stopped smiling.
"Do you want to go somewhere?" he asked, looking out at the crowd as Gaia followed his gaze. The plaid shirt guy was still eyeing them suspiciously. "Somewhere where the natives aren't out for blood?"
Stuffing her hands under her arms, Gaia glanced at Charlie. His sparkly eyes had turned serious. He didn't want to get away from the natives. He just wanted to get her alone. Even someone as inexperienced in romance as Gaia could figure that one out. But being alone with him was out of the question. There was no telling what she might manage to do wrong.
"I . . . uh . . ."
Yet another situation with no ready response. Gaia looked at the door, the hall, the window. At all places leading out. They each looked really far away.
Glancing at Charlie, Gaia was hit by the sudden urge not to hurt the feelings of the third person who'd been nice to her since she'd come to the city. Stranger still, she also realized some small part of her wanted him to continue wanting her. He was nice. Funny. Cute. Uncomplicated. And he seemed to like her. Gaia Moore. The freak with the huge shoulders and the even huger thighs.
Gaia racked her brain for a graceful bow out. She came up blank. When was she going to wake up and start watching soap operas instead of
Scooby-Doo
reruns?
Somehow "Shaggy! Run!" didn't seem appropriate at the moment.
BLISS
ABOUT FIVE SECONDS AFTER ENTERING Tim's apartment, Ed was convinced that the Tin Man from Oz didn't know how good he had it. Not having a heart seemed like a huge blessing.
Gaia was standing about ten feet away from him, and she was smiling. At Charlie Salita. Charlie every-girl-in-this-room-has-wanted-me-at-some-point-in-her-life Salita. The guy was wearing a brown chenille turtleneck and black pants with highly shined black shoes.
He made Ed look about as sophisticated as Elmo.
Ed was about to cut his losses and maneuver his chair around -- no easy feat on carpeting that was about three inches thick -- when he heard the most beautiful sound ever to float past his eardrums.
"Fargo!"
It was Gaia Moore, spitting out his name.
"Hey!" he said, looking up as Gaia stalked across the room toward him, leaving a baffled-looking Charlie in the dust.
Ed didn't care that Gaia looked like she was out for blood and that she could probably crush his fingers with a flick of
Charlie popped up next to her just as the projectile nut hit Heather right on the cheek.
"Ow!" Heather protested, slapping at her face.
"Nice!" Charlie whisper-shouted.
Gaia cracked up laughing and rolled under the table. Charlie was practically crying from the effort to hold in his mirth.
"I didn't actually just do that," Gaia said, holding the heel of her hand to her forehead.
Charlie shrugged. "I'm buzzed -- what's your excuse?"
Gaia had a slew of great excuses. She was obviously being controlled by an alien race. Or Ella had slipped some kind of upper into her water. Or she was asleep and dreaming. It had to be one of those because laughing wasn't something Gaia did in real life. Almost ever.
"Do you think it's safe to stand up?" Charlie said.
"Whatever," Gaia answered, pushing herself to her feet. She looked around, expecting the dagger glare, but Heather was off in the corner, flirting with some kid with an underdeveloped goatee. Interesting. Did this mean that Sam was a thing of Heather's past? The possibility brought yet another smile to Gaia's lips. Somebody should be writing this down. Recording it all for posterity.
Gaia Moore. Monday, November 30. Five-plus smiles. Actual laughter. Subject obviously acutely disturbed.
"You have an amazing smile," Charlie said, his voice so close, Gaia almost thought it was coming from inside her own head. She was surprised when it sent her heart racing. Her mind searched for something to say. She was sure there was a proper response for something like that, but it wasn't anywhere in Gaia's memory banks.
She just stopped smiling.
"Do you want to go somewhere?" he asked, looking out at the crowd as Gaia followed his gaze. The plaid shirt guy was still eyeing them suspiciously. "Somewhere where the natives aren't out for blood?"
Stuffing her hands under her arms, Gaia glanced at Charlie. His sparkly eyes had turned serious. He didn't want to get away from the natives. He just wanted to get her alone. Even someone as inexperienced in romance as Gaia could figure that one out. But being alone with him was out of the question. There was no telling what she might manage to do wrong.
"I . . . uh . . ."
Yet another situation with no ready response. Gaia looked at the door, the hall, the window. At all places leading out. They each looked really far away.
Glancing at Charlie, Gaia was hit by the sudden urge not to hurt the feelings of the third person who'd been nice to her since she'd come to the city. Stranger still, she also realized some small part of her wanted him to continue wanting her. He was nice. Funny. Cute. Uncomplicated. And he seemed to like her. Gaia Moore. The freak with the huge shoulders and the even huger thighs.
Gaia racked her brain for a graceful bow out. She came up blank. When was she going to wake up and start watching soap operas instead of
Scooby-Doo
reruns?
Somehow "Shaggy! Run!" didn't seem appropriate at the moment.
BLISS
ABOUT FIVE SECONDS AFTER ENTERING Tim's apartment, Ed was convinced that the Tin Man from Oz didn't know how good he had it. Not having a heart seemed like a huge blessing.
Gaia was standing about ten feet away from him, and she was smiling. At Charlie Salita. Charlie every-girl-in-this-room-has-wanted-me-at-some-point-in-her-life Salita. The guy was wearing a brown chenille turtleneck and black pants with highly shined black shoes.
He made Ed look about as sophisticated as Elmo.
Ed was about to cut his losses and maneuver his chair around -- no easy feat on carpeting that was about three inches thick -- when he heard the most beautiful sound ever to float past his eardrums.
"Fargo!"
It was Gaia Moore, spitting out his name.
"Hey!" he said, looking up as Gaia stalked across the room toward him, leaving a baffled-looking Charlie in the dust.
Ed didn't care that Gaia looked like she was out for blood and that she could probably crush his fingers with a flick of
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