At the Twilight's Last Gleaming Read Free Page A

and looked for someone. That dazzling smile again, and he pointed. Laughing, showing a set of white, flashing teeth, he waved, called, and then started that graceful walk again…
    Toward our table.
    “Ouch! Your fingernails are digging into my arm!” said Harold, obviously irked for other reasons as well.
    “Harold. Harold – he’s coming to our table!” I said through clenched teeth.
    Sure enough, the object of my attention moved blithely down the aisle. The din of the room seemed to die down, and my attention focused into a narrow tunnel, fixed on this young man.
    Peter. Peter Harrigan.
    He was, quite simply, beautiful.
    He was tall with broad shoulders. He had piercing dark eyes that sparkled below dark brows. His chin had a dimple and his cheeks, in fact his whole face, worked together as a team in quest of perfect symmetry. His body had an agile strength to it. You could see that strength in the way he moved.
    I was never much for boys.
    Boys being boys, when I started getting a figure, I got attention.
    But it was like being the only human in a monkey house. I just didn’t get it. I didn’t care. There were too many other important things in life to bother with adolescent males.
    When I saw Peter Harrigan, though, I understand the whole female-male attraction thing.
    “Hey,” said Harold. “Your fingernails are really hurting. I mean it!”
    “Sorry,” I said, easing my grip.
    I felt giddy and excited. The slight trembles of feeling started awakening the wells of deeper emotions that I had for this handsome, charming and sweet young man.
    Sometimes lately I would wake up in the middle of the night and I’d be thinking about Peter. It was as though I’d started some sentence about him while I was sleeping, but could only finish it awake. I would just lie there, clutching my pillow, thinking about the few conversations we’d had, thinking about his kind smile, thinking about the twinkle in his eyes…thinking about having those strong arms around me….
    ….and his hot breath on my neck.
    I kept on telling myself, you’ve just got a crush. A crush!
    You’ve heard about crushes. They’re a dime a dozen at high school.
    But these feelings – they felt just overwhelming. Moving inside me like a tsunami, they felt like the Dark Tides of Fate being pulled by the Moon. Or something like that.
    “You don’t have to take a deep breath or anything,” said Harry, “but breathing would be a good idea.”
    I gasped. “Oh, God, I’m holding my breath again. Not good, not good.”
    I took in a deep, deep breath and closed my eyes. I guess the theory was, with boys, you get into the shallow end of the pool first. You dance, you hang out, you flirt – maybe a kiss here, a make-out session there. Some long phone calls. And then, of course, lots and lots of dramatic conversations with your girlfriends.
    But not me.
    No, I didn’t do that. My nose was in books and I was busy moving between Air Force bases.
    No, for me it was a dive right into the deep end. And a belly-flop dive at that!
    “Maybe you’d better open your eyes,” said Harry. “He’s coming this way.”
    “Coming this…”
    My eyes shot open. Sure enough, Peter was wending his way along the side aisle, headed toward the sparsely populated tables by the stage.
    “Coming this way. Harold — he’s going to sit by us!”
    Harold got a pained look on his face. Pained but patient. He knew what would have to happen then.
    “Look, if you are going to get to know this guy, you’re going to have to start talking to him.”
    “I will. But if I’ve got an icebreaker around, why not avail myself?”
    “Oh, I feel so used,” Harry said, mock dramatically. “I’m not exactly the social butterfly.”
    “But I freeze up!” I said. “I just totally can’t talk to him right away. You know that. So, just start talking.”
    I was getting desperate, since I could see that Peter had broken off from a conversation. His head was down. He was alone. He