Heart of the Ocean

Chapter 7 - Carefree plans

The next morning, I woke feeling refreshed. As a stretched catlike I tried to hold on to the last flickers of the dream I was having – some delicious fantasy involving Nate and roaming hands.

His or mine?

Thinking about Nate I remembered the crazy night before. Skulls and flames, Nate’s witchy claims, my tears and a soothing embrace.

Where was Nate now? I sat up.

With a quick glance round my tiny room, it was apparent that Nate had left, his back pack had gone too.

Of course, what reason would he have to stay the night? Wishful thinking, I though wryly. Also, it would be totally weird if he’d stayed.

I re-wrapped myself, burrito style and let my mind fill with images of Nate. In less that 24 hours Nate had somehow come to my rescue three times! My body felt flush thinking about his speech earlier. He thought he was drawn to me? Sounds too good to be true.

But still I wriggled my feet and toes in childish glee.

I rolled over, thinking some more.

But he says he is a witch.

How does anyone react to that kind of statement? Last night I was completely overwhelmed by uni and the fiery skull. Now I let the witch statement sink in.

On one hand, Nate might just be mentally ill. 110% stunning, but crazy. Not ideal.

On the other hand, Nate was t**t or a compulsive liar who got his kicks from persuading idiots that he had magic powers. Again not ideal.

At this particular thought I was reminded of my past and my misplaced trust. Something in my core told me that Nate wasn’t lying. And he certainly wasn’t a jerk. What kind of asshole stays and comforts his victims, holding them until they fall asleep?

I shook my head – not an option.

Finally, I had to consider the possibility that he was telling the truth. But that went against every piece of common sense. Did that mean that Nate had mental health issues? It was very possible.

I groaned. Even if one of these options were true I still wanted to be near Nate like a moth to the light. He’d inadvertently made me cry but patched me up with tender words and an understanding of my heart that no-one had displayed in my entire life. And I had only known him for a day.

I wrenched myself upright. My mind made up. For better or worse I was going to let Nate be apart of my life.

All my life I had been scared of making true connections, even with Zara and Alaric I part of me with restrained. I was afraid of showing my real self, worrying that they would see me for who I really was an reject me.

Be real, Clio. Be yourself. What is the worse that could happen?

Having made this vow with myself I was resolved to face the day. I had no classes scheduled – Fridays were always independent study days for freshers. We were given a reading list as long as your arm for each class. Luckily, most of it had been photocopied and rebound by merciful lecturers but I still had a few books I needed to buy. I planned to buy them from town which would give me an opportunity to see York. A thinly disguised tourist expedition if ever there was one.

I’d been asking Zara and Alaric if they’d come with me to town all week but each time, they said they’d blown me off.

Time for Clio to take the initiative and venture into town solo. Daring Clio.

It was already 10:30, best to get food in town. York is renowned for its amazing independent food, street food, cafes, bistros, pubs, take outs etc. My mouthed watered at the prospect.

It took me a total of 20 minutes to get ready, looking somewhat presentable. My hair had dried in my sleep and was an untameable red nest, so I quickly plaited it down my back.

I glanced in the mirror. Maybe it was the great night sleep or something, but I was actually pretty happy with how I looked. Even my love handles didn’t pull my eyes. Awesome.

When I reached for my phone and keys I noticed a folded note resting on top of the phone.

My heart skipped a beat. Very dramatic.

Hope you slept well.

Here’s my number if you need anything.

-        Nate

Under his name was his digits and a five-pointed star in a circle doodle.

Weird, I thought.

If I really was going to be a new, daring Clio I should make the first move, I thought. I’ve got Nate’s number now. Maybe I should invite him for brunch and book shopping. That’s pretty harmless right?

I punched in Nate’s number and held my breath. Call not text. Be bold.

“Clio!” Nate breathed through the line.

“How did you know it was me?” I asked. I knew I didn’t give him my number. I never got the chance.

Nate chuckled on the other end, “I just had a feeling. What’s up?”.

Moment of truth, the worse he could do was say no, “I was wondering, if you weren’t too busy, do you want to go book shopping in town? We could grab a coffee or brunch if you’re hungry or not. I’m good either way. Don’t feel like you have to come if you’ve got something else to do. Actually, I’d be shocked if you were free. It doesn’t matter, you don’t have to come. Stupid for asking. Sorry.” My words came out in a fast torrent, no breaths or pauses.

“Woah there Clio. I didn’t say no! Book shopping doesn’t exactly sound thrilling but brunch with you sounds divine.” Nate exclaimed hastily before I tried hanging up.

“Oh” I said lamely.

“Oh yes. I know an amazing place that make the best pancakes. We might have to queue for a bit- you have to queue for anything worth while in York. But I promise it will be worth it”, said Nate.

“Mmmmm. Pancakes sound good”, I replied. My stomach had started to rumble.

“Perfect. I’m actually already in town. How about I meet you by the Minster in ….. 30 minutes?” Nate asked.

I did a quick calculation in my head, “Half an hour is fine. I’ll see you then”.

“See you then”, I could almost hear Nate smile into the phone.

Half an hour later, I trotted up to York Minster. This was my first time up close to the building, it was majestic, even on a grey Friday morning. The walls were a creamy white, maybe limestone, filled with ornate carvings of saints, kings and ghoulish faces, all staring down in silent judgement. I’d never been religious, but the sense of love I could feeling from the structure gave me chills.

I rounded the building, looking for Nate, to what assumed were the front doors. A huge, circular stained-glass window filled the front wall, framed by two immense towers. An intimidating welcome to be sure.

Momentarily distracted, along with hundreds of tourists, I failed to notice Nate’s approach. It wasn’t until the last second that I felt the tingle of his stare that I looked down in time to shut my gaping mouth with an audible snap.

Nate was striking in an understated outfit of grey jeans and an umber jumper, perfect for the autumn. His hair was slightly tousled, despite how close cropped he kept it. But as always, I was captive to his overwhelming gaze. Today his eyes were the colour of amber, warm and inviting.

I breathed a sigh of relief. I half expected him not to show- that his earlier attention had simply been out of an act of pity.

“Clio,” Nate said, “are you enjoying the architecture?”

He had caught me gawping at the Minster “Its so beautiful. Its hard to imagine it was built by man.”

Nate nodded his head, sombre.

“Yeah. Its been built and rebuilt over centuries. It even had Roman foundations.” Nate explained.

I was surprised, “Where did you learn that? Have you been here before?”

Nate gave me a strange, almost wistful look, “Not in a very long time.”

“Do you have any fun facts for me?” I asked, keen to learn about this unexpected interest in Christian architecture.

Nate smirked, warming to his subject “Well, young lady, have you noticed the rather peculiar gargoyles and ghouls in the carvings?”

I nodded.

“Very observant” Nate nodded knowingly, imitating one of our fuddy duddy lecturers, “The image of the green man, an ancient pagan deity, is also incorporated into the building.”

Nate’s voice suddenly became softer and more serious, “Even the Christians could not deny the power of the old Gods. They feared and respected it. They were too afraid of the wrath of the storm, the rage of the fire, the rage of the tempest to truly turn their back on the old Gods. This is a monument to that power.”

I raised a questioning eyebrow, unsure of this serious Nate.

“Or so they say. I wonder if there is any truth in it?” Nate’s voice was back to being relaxed. I relaxed alongside him.

“Well, that’s enough religion for now. I’m starving. Pancakes first, shopping later.” Nate declared, staring me down a side street.

As we ate our pancakes at the Brew and Brownie (they were exceptional) I wondered about Nate’s comments about the old gods. Clearly, he knew a lot about it and this old religion was more important to him than he let on.

Maybe he really was a witch.