Valentia (2)

I guess I should explain who we are, and what we're doing. We're just a bunch of twenty-somethings trying to find ourselves, really. For the most part we could be mistaken for a gritty band of indie kids strung out on amphetamines. 1

We often joke that Ashley is our lead singer, with her recording studio background, and Adrian is the heartthrob keyboardist with his feminine features and shy demeanor. Javier is, obviously, The Spanish One. Kevin would be the lead guitarist who does all the talking in interviews. Eric is the dirty scene kid, and I'm the invisible drummer that groupies use to get to Adrian. Figures.2

It seems like we all kind of came together by accident, but it's pretty apparent that we drew each other in. We share this...ability. And, I don't mean athletic ability or intellectual ability, though some of us are obviously more inclined in different areas than others. (By this I mean Eric and Javi have no mental or social ability.) It's more like this inclination to feel energy, or to sense things that other people seem not to notice or can't pick up on. It's a pretty strange thing for a bunch of 20 year olds to share.3

It's a touchy conversation when people ask what you're doing, you know? You can't just tell them that hey I see dead babies, or hey you're probably going to fall down a flight of stairs today. They look at you with a curl of their lip, call you nuts, and say prove it. When you can't, or even if you try, they discount it with some lame theory and whisper about you nervously to their friends. It's really difficult to explain exactly how you feel something, and we've all developed ways of concealing that part of ourselves out of self preservation.4

So when we all came together in this mid-sized town of Lenexa, Kansas, it was relieving to be able to let down our guards a little and feel somewhat comfortable in a group. It was a pretty normal, quiet town and I was a pretty normal, quiet kid save for the screaming banshees I'd endured growing up. Yeah, my parents didn't get along, but it's not them I'm talking about. I'm talking about angry spirits who would sweep over me in my sleep or on the playground at school. Because nobody else understood what I was going on about, I was diagnosed with something called night terrors and prescribed anti-depressants. Obviously, they didn't work.5

By my teen years I'd learned how to channel the energies and be selective in which ones I let through, though sometimes my own defenses failed. I sold my pills to the druggies at my high school, and bought music to drown myself in with the money. By twenty, it was second nature, and I was studying art and philosophy, and having the usual college experience.6

One night during exams, I was in the library with a couple of my house-mates. We were comparing notes in one of the conference rooms and drinking from a bottle of Jack. Julia and Marcus were discussing the lecture on the consumerism of American holidays pretty heatedly when I felt something strange and intense come over me.7

It wasn't a foreign feeling, but it was fucking intense. It was a dizziness, a euphorically warm feeling in my stomach, and it was distracting enough for me to physically pull away from the table. I felt my cheeks growing warm and excused myself.8

Panic rose up my throat quietly but quickly as I stopped outside the door. There came no pleading voice, no lurching figure, and no premonition that would have usually followed. I took a few breaths and pushed a hand through my hair, glancing at my reflection in the glass window of a darkened room next to ours. No strange lights or auras were reflecting around me. It'd been a while since I'd felt it this strongly; where the hell was it coming from?9

As I looked around, the library was quiet except for some tapping of pens and typing on keyboards. People were carrying on as normal, with no horrified gasps of strange occurences, just looking tired or reading intently from books. Deciding sheepishly that maybe I was just dehydrated, I turned, intending to go for a drink. It was then that I saw him.10

There wasn't anything outstanding about him then. In profile standing at the table maybe 20 feet away, he'd just put his bag down. Slender, and dressed in an unremarkable light blue t-shirt and dark jeans, he paused. His brows furrowing, he looked down as he put a hand to his stomach. My breath stopped in my throat, and a shiver flooded over me. He looked up with a concerned expression and seemed to scan the tables in front of him. Turning slightly, his eyes stopped on mine. My mouth hung open a bit in my shock, and I swallowed. I'd just sensed not a spirit or energy, but a living, breathing human, and he stood there staring back at me, the confusion melting from his brows.11

The room stopped spinning, and the warmth in my stomach pulsated like a second heartbeat. His hand drop back his side as he straightened up again and a little smile lifted the corner of his mouth self-consciously. I returned an awkward, confused half-smile. Smooth, Oslin. Well, I reasoned walking across the room towards him, maybe I am crazy.12

"Hey, uh, did you just...um--" I ventured as quietly as I could, looking at him, and then away hesitantly. Maybe he was looking for someone, I thought suddenly. Shit. A girl sitting at the same table looked up at us, annoyed. My cheeks grew warm on my own accord then as I faltered, hoping he'd finish my sentence.13

He smiled again, this time with a slight pink at his cheeks. I found myself drawn in by his features...slight dimples, pale green eyes, a few freckles over his slightly upturned nose, shaggy blond hair framing his face--14

Oslin? Dude.15

Check yourself. 16

Before I could cringe with my embarassment and apologize, he spoke in a mellow tenor that I found suited him so aptly well.17

"Feel you?" He provided quizzically, laughing a little at the awkwardness of how it sounded. I exhaled with relief, nodding. That was the exactly the word I was looking for. He nodded knowingly, scratching at his cheek as my shoulders relaxed,18

"Yeah, actually...but..." He looked at me, continuing, seeming less startled by it and more entertained, "You're the strongest I've ever felt."19

I sucked a breath in and looked down, tentatively. If he wasn't hitting on me with some weirdly coincidental pick up line, then that meant he was serious and he'd felt it before. He knew why it was, and what it meant.20

"Wait, what do you mean 'I'm the strongest'?" I asked per my inner dialogue, glancing back at him from a frayed lace on my Converse as I leaned against the table behind us. I was well aware of the heat radiating from his arm next to mine, and I didn't want to ask anything suspicious just in case.21

He reached for the chain around his neck and pulled a pendant from under his shirt. Three tiny rocks hung from it in a cluster that made tiny dull jingling sounds as they hit against one another. My instincts were shouting, but I didn't give in. Suddenly I felt like I was caught in a dream. I stared it questioningly as he spoke. Amethyst, amber, and turquoise.22

"You and I sense things, right? And you do, I can tell, probably more strongly than most people that can," He paused, waiting for a reaction that I just couldn't process at the moment, "...so uh...these stones...they're amulets. They act as protection by repelling negative energies."23

My brows furrowed as I absorbed his words. I knew what an amulet was, but I wasn't a negative energy, was I? He let the pendant fall to his chest and looked at me with concern again. He took a breath like what he would say next would really be shocking, and it sort of was.24

"I'm," He paused as in preparation, "I'm a healer...actually."25

I shook my head in semi-disbelief and laughed. A healer? What rabbit hole did I just fall down? Am I passed out over by that door caught in some lucid dream or is this for real? I was sure I was the only one with this freakishly sensational ability.26

"So, we're standing here having this conversation because you're...a healer?" I questioned, probably a bit too loudly. He nodded, his brows raising some making him look apologetic, and he shoved his hands into his pockets. The girl at the table scoffed at us, gathered her things, and moved to another seat a few tables down.27

"I'm still--this is--okay...Okay," I paused, putting together my composure, "You're right about the intensity. It can be overwhelming. Even painful, but why are we attracted to each other right now?"28

I blushed with the words, and stumbled to clarify,29

"I mean, why you and me?"30

Yeah, like that was any better, Oz, my insides ridiculed. He just cleared his throat and shrugged like it was obvious.31

"Well, if you get hurt like you say you do, and I heal...then, that would make sense, right? Your energy is craving mine and vice versa."32

Wait. I frowned at him slightly offended that he would see me as 'craving' him, and then realized how strangely divine it felt being able to share this forbidden ability with someone at all. Especially with someone so--I eyed him over again--well...fairly normal.33

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense," I mused, relenting in my offense, "Yeah, so how is it exactly that you can do this? You put your hands over my head when I need it or something?"34

"Nah, for me to absorb the energy we kiss." He replied, looking at me evenly.35

My eyebrows shot up as I looked back at him, stricken with panic. Total deal breaker. He looked at me with a straight face that crumpled into laughter, muffling it with his hand. I cringed with whatever gullibility he seemed to have played out of me,36

"Dude, I'm kidding! I'm sorry, no...no, it's nothing like that...really." He said, with sincerity, though with a still-amused grin, he added,37

"I mean, it wouldn't hurt."38

I squeezed my eyes shut at the suggestion, looking at him with a pout.39

"Aw, c'mon," He ribbed playfully, "I'm kidding...weren't you going for a drink? Let me buy you a water as truce...I could use one too."40

And so, I'd met Adrian.