Gemini

Chapter 8* A Fiery Start

The door’s firmly closed, but not locked, as we find out when we push it open. A musty smell overwhelms me as I step in, and wrinkling my nose, I scan for cobwebs.

There is another smell underlying the old granny-smell. It is very familiar, but very faint too, and I can’t detect it. Where have I smelled it before?

“Do you smell that?” I ask Sam, and he frowns.

“Smell what?”

“Nothing,” I say hastily. Turning back I survey the house. It looks well lived in, with framed photographs and a clock cluttering the mantel piece. The fireplace is sooty and filled with ashes, and cold. The checkered couch still had crinkles in it, like someone had sat there and got up to leave… And never came back.

With a sigh, I point to the couch. “You can have that. I’ll keep watch.”

“We never had to keep watch before,” he replies, puzzled.

“You never know,” I say with a shrug. “I’ll wake you up in an hour.” Sam doesn’t protest, apparently too beat up to do so. He slumps on the couch and goes to sleep almost instantly.

Twenty boring minutes pass. I start fidgeting- I’ve never been one to stay still. Grimacing, I stand up and make my way over to the stove. There are cupboards over it and I open them, finding some canned beans. Well, it would taste good warmed up. Grabbing a pot I chuck it onto the stove, searching for a match.

I find one box in the drawers. Lighting it and turning on the gas tap, I am delighted to see flames spring up. Shaking the match, I throw it on the floor, not even bothering to see if it was put out.

And that was when things started going terribly wrong.

It took a while. Maybe because the gasoline had already soaked into the wood. Anyway, I am about to pour the beans in, when the whole floor is suddenly ablaze.

Startled- okay, slightly more than startled-, I yell and drop the can. My survival instincts kick in, and I race over to where Samuel lounges on the couch. Thankfully, the cackling flames hasn’t reached us yet- but it won’t be long.

“Sam!” I shout urgently, shaking him. “Sam!”

He stirs. “Wha-”

“Run! Run, this place is going up in flames! Quick!” I have already slung the bag over my shoulder.

“Run!”

Somehow, I break through to him. My eyes are tearing up from all the smoke, the acrid smell snaking its way up my nostrils. I try to breathe with my shirt over my nose, but there’s nothing, nothing anywhere except for that horrid smoke. Sam gets up and takes in the scene with a strangled cry, and leaps to his feet. We tear out of the house, flames licking at our heels.

Bursting out into fresh air, I am about to stop and gasp for breath but Sam pulls me forward. “Keep going!” he shouts. “Down the hill!”

It takes every ounce of strength I have left to force myself to my feet and continue running. I practically stumble those last few steps.

“Kayla! Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Sam demands, coming forward and giving me a once-over. I can see the concern and worry in his eyes.

“I’m- fine,” I pant, hands on my knees. “I’m sorry. I was trying to cook and-”

“People make mistakes all the time,” he says gently, bending so he was at eye level with me.

“Yeah,” I grumble, “But no one seems to make them as much as me.”

“Maybe you’re different,” he says softly. “Maybe you’re special.” A nice breeze blows in, without the acrid smoke or the decay stench, and unruly strands of brown hair fly into Sam’s face.

Something twists in my heart as I study his face. His face isn’t perfect- he was by no means an Edward Cullen. But he shone with a realness that just drew people like moths to him, me included.

“Moths?” he says, confused. I start.

“Moths?” I repeat dumbly. A small smile crosses his face.

“You were saying something about moths,” he says, barely hiding his amusement. I open and close my mouth like a goldfish.

“See?” I grumble. “Making stupid mistakes all the time like this.”

“I think it’s cute.”

“Oh yeah, wait till you see those really big ones. When I screw things up so major that nothing can fix it. It really sucks.”

“Kayla,” he says gently, leaning just a wee bit closer. My whole body aches for him to close that gap. I didn’t have the guts to do it myself, so I just sat there like the coward I was.

“Yeah?” I breathe.

“We… should teleport now.” A scowl slips onto my face, and I stand with a huff. Way to ruin the moment, Sam. Shooting him a glare I grab the backpack, and suddenly I am being pulled into a hug. A nice, warm hug… Sam.

Despite him being all dirt streaked and sooty, he smells nice. Like… Sam. I can’t really describe it because to describe something you need to compare it to something, and I don’t have anything to compare it to. He just smells beautifully like Sam.

His soft hair tickles my face and I feel the urge to sneeze, yet I hold it in. I cannot ruin this moment, I cannot…

“Ready?” he whispers in my ear. I nod, swallowing.

“Yes.”

“Hold on tight,” he says, holding me tighter as we whiz off into space and time. 

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