Welcome to Gaia! ::

“This isn’t my house,” she said. Her voice was still calm-ish. Only a slight bit confused.

“I know,” I said, pulling my key from the ignition. “It’s mine.”

“What?” she exclaimed. “Take me home!”

“I can’t do that.” I couldn’t. She was only going to get into more trouble if I let her run loose around the city. “You’re staying with me for tonight.”

“You’re going to rape me, too?” She unbuckled and reached for the door handle, but I hit the door-lock button, keeping her inside. Finding her own door-lock button, she pushed it, unlocking the doors. From there, we went into a door locking battle for a few seconds until she turned to me. “Let me out!”

“Where are you going to go?” I asked her. “You’re half naked and on the wrong side of town. Are you going to walk home like that?”

“Shut up,” she said, folding her arms across her chest.

“And if you are choosing to walk home, I’d like my jacket back.” It was too cold to be running around without it.

Miranda stared out the window with enough intensity to break it.

I sighed. “I’m not going to rape you,” I informed her. Not unless this damn prophecy takes over my mind. “If you really want to know what’s going on, I’ll tell you in the morning. Right now, I’m too tired to even think about raping you, so can you make up your mind before I fall asleep?”

“For one night,” she said bluntly. Then she got out of the car and slammed the door closed behind her.

Inside my apartment, I got her an un-torn shirt and gave her a blanket to sleep on the couch with. Then I locked myself in my room, hoping not to have to see her until morning.

The next morning, she banged on the door at seven until I woke up. It was barely light out when I opened my eyes, but I didn’t dare keep her waiting. No, the prophecy wouldn’t let me. So I dragged myself out of bed and dressed, all the while half-listening to her shouts and fists beating on the door.

When I opened the door, she nearly punched me in the face, but I caught her fist and said, “You wake me at this ghastly hour, you can let me get something to eat.” She just stared at me for a few seconds, but pulled her fist from my hand and let me go into the tiny kitchen to get breakfast.

When I had situated myself on the sofa with a bowl of cereal, I said, “What do you want to know?” I could’ve just told her everything. Get it over with without hearing her poison-filled voice anymore. But I was feeling lazy and decided I’d only tell what she wanted to know. No more. No less.

“Who are you?” First question. Too hard. Too early.

I swallowed a bite of Frosted Flakes. “My name is Fletcher Bolin.” And you and I are destined to have a child together. No. Too creepy. And you and I need to sleep together. No. Too…blunt. And you and I—.

“Hello?” Miranda’s voice drew me from my thoughts, and I mentally hit myself. I didn’t need to tell her that. Now at that moment, at least. She could wait. “Fletcher? What kind of name is that?”

“What kind of name is Miranda?”

“How do you know my name?” She narrowed her eyes at me in such a way that I felt like cowering.

Chewing slowly, I considered my words. “Yes,” I said. “I have been following you.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but I cut her off.

“I have been following you for years. Ever since I was able to locate you in this country.” I shifted uncomfortable on the sofa as she continued staring at me. It was more a glare, actually. “I have no idea how to say this to you, so I’ll just be blunt. Your first-born child is destined to either save or destroy the largest kingdom in Kyoonyt, therefore killing or saving about a hundred-thousand people and destroying or saving nearly half of Kyoonyt—but which one he does will be determined by which side (good or evil) gets to you first and impregnates you.” The words were out all in a rush, and I wasn’t even sure if they had come out right.

“What?” Miranda exclaimed. She gave a nervous laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

I shook my head, staring into the bowl in my hands.

“I didn’t even understand half of that,” she went on, her voice high-pitched with anger and confusion. “How do I fit into this? And what does my first-born child have to do with anything?” At that point, I was glad she was from Kyoonyt. It saved me a lot of explaining.

“I told you,” I said, not looking up. “Your first-born child will either save or destroy Kyoonyt, depending on which side gets you pregnant first.”

“So you are going to rape me?” She backed away.

“Yes, Miranda, with a spoon in one hand.” I stood and took the empty bowl into the kitchen. Then I went into the bathroom to wash my face and take a leak, hoping Miranda wouldn’t follow me in.

When I went back into the living room and sat on the sofa, she was pacing back and forth talking to herself, one hand on her forehead and the other on her waist. I rested the bottoms of my feet on the edge of the coffee table before continuing.

“There is one person to whom you are supposed to have the child. One you were destined to be with from the day you were born. He will be attracted to you and you to him, due to the prophecy on you both.” I wondered absently if she knew I was speaking in the third person about myself. “And eventually, the two of you will make a child.”

“Oh, boy.” Miranda looked as if she were going to faint as she sunk into one of the chairs facing the sofa. “But that means…I’m a prophecy?” The last three words were spoken slowly, as if she was trying to make herself believe them.

“Kyoonyt is depending on both of you,” I finished. “All three of you, if you count the child.”

“But I’m not even marked,” she said, her hand still on her forehead, rubbing the bridge of her nose as if she had a headache.

“It’s probably beneath your hair,” I told her. My mark look like a rather large, symmetrical tattoo on my lower back. Which was a nice way to keep its true purpose hidden. Unless one knew the right history and the prophecy that bound Miranda and I together. That was something that had never happened to me before, and I hoped it never would.

She felt the back of her head, then stood up again and resumed pacing. “Do you know who he is? The other half of the prophecy?”

If I told her, she would freak out. And she would probably run out of the apartment without listening to anything I had to say. So I replied, “No. But I’ve been searching for a while. I’m getting close.”

“Wow. And you’re sure it’s me?”

If my libido is correct. “Come here.” I stood and walked around her when she approached.

“What are you doing?” she asked uneasily as I lifted her hair.

“Looking for your mark.” That came out wrong. “Checking to see if it’s you, since this is the first time I’ve met you.”

When we arrived, Miranda immediately wanted to call her roommate, who was working at the time. Then she turned to me and asked what she was going to do about her own job. I told her it would be taken care of, as I was still milking an inheritance from my parents. And once her employer heard that she was a prophecy and that her life was in danger, she would be hired back on if she got fired.

Inside, I followed her around with a suitcase she’d practically thrown at me, watching with dread as she piled clothing and makeup into it. Living with a woman was something new to me, unfortunately. Especially one who seemed as high-maintenance as Miranda.

She had to be one of the most high-maintenance people alive, if not the most. I mean, I was supposed to keep her alive. Literally. While trying to resist the urge to jump on top of her due to a forceful urge, no less. What could be worse than that? I can’t say I’ve ever heard of a guy in that type of situation before.

I told her to leave a note for her roommate, telling her only that she was a prophecy and that she was safe.

“What’s your phone number?” she asked.

“Why?” I had a bag in each hand, each filled with clothing. Luckily, she wasn’t one of those girls with a ton of shoes, too. That would have been awful.

“So she can call me.”

“We’re trying to stay hidden, Miranda,” I pointed out. “Why the hell would we leave my phone number?”

“Can I tell her to call my cell?”

“If you must.” I sighed as she wrote the note. She taped it to the refrigerator, then we left.

Back at my apartment, she unpacked her clothing into the dressers while I made the bed. She hadn’t spoken since we’d left her house, so the silence was starting to get to me. But I was beginning to fear what would come out of my mouth, so I remained silent as well.

“This is nice furniture for someone like you to have,” she commented as she trailed her fingers along the edge of the cherry dresser she was currently stuffing.

“Someone like me?” I echoed, wondering what she meant.

“Yeah. It’s nice. Almost an antique.” Her fingers made streaks in the dust on top of the dresser.

“They were my mother’s,” I told her, finishing the bed. I turned and sat on it. “Just because I live here doesn’t mean I don’t have nice stuff. The reason I can mostly live without working? I was left a fairly large inheritance after my parents passed.”

She turned to look at me questioningly, but the expression changed as soon as she saw me sitting there. I could’ve sworn it was the same expression I wore when the prophecy acted up. It scared her, what she was feeling. Just like it sometimes scared me. And the fact that I was sitting on the bed probably didn’t help her any.

I stood and left, hoping I wouldn’t begin to feel the same way. Just what I needed: Both of us getting to the point with the prophecy where we couldn’t control ourselves so early in the process of my wooing her. It’d be like building a house before the tree was cut down: A lot of confusion and kicking oneself for stupidity afterward.

“What happens if I can’t control it?” Miranda asked as she walked into the kitchen. By that time, it was lunchtime, so I was making myself a peanut-butter sandwich while I waited for her to finish overrunning my guestroom.

“If you can’t control it?” I echoed before licking the spoon I was using in the peanut butter. I knew she was talking about the lust from the prophecy, but not exactly what she meant.

“Yeah.” She leaned back on the counter as I turned around. “What if…” She let her words trail off, shrugging. “You know…”

“Ah,” I said, understanding. “What if you have sex with me instead of the other half of the prophecy?” Then we wouldn’t have a problem.

She nodded uneasily.

“If you can’t control it, I will try my best to keep you away from me.” I took a bite of my sandwich. “This prophecy is too important for us to be reckless, so you need to try your best to control it, as well.”

Nodding, she turned and opened the refrigerator behind her. “There is nothing edible in here.” Yeah. Sure. Change the topic from your desire, even though it is possibly the most important thing in your life right now.

As I passed her, I put the jar of peanut butter next to her on the counter. I could live on peanut butter. She could live with it for a few weeks.

“I’m allergic to peanuts,” she called to me as I took my sandwich to the sofa.

“No, you’re not,” I called back. “You were eating them perfectly fine at the humans’ Independence Day celebration.” Burn.

“You followed me there?” Miranda came into the living room empty-handed.

“I follow you everywhere.”

She began pacing back and forth in front of me as I watched, trying to unstuck my tongue from the roof of my mouth. “You don’t have a TV,” she stated.

“I know,” I managed through the peanut-y goodness.

“But what do you do all day?” she asked.

“Do you really want to know?” I questioned sarcastically.

The windows seemed to fascinate her. The view from the fifth-story apartment was nice; you could see the whole city from the window.

“I do something called reading,” I went on when she didn’t reply. “And, of course, I follow you everywhere. But since you’re here, I am left short of my favorite pastime.”

Taking a seat in a chair, she watched as I finished my sandwich. Eventually, when she got hungry enough, she would eat the peanut butter. Until then, she could suffer.

“Can we go to the supermarket?” she asked. “Please? I don’t want to eat peanut butter until I get out of here.”

“Fine,” I said. I needed an excuse to go grocery shopping.

In an instant, Miranda was ready to go.