Fighting the impossible by Selina Bodur Page A

conspiratorial.
    “P…
pardon!? The show?!” she stammered. His eyes were holding her still,
immobilizing her. Tara shook the magic of. What was wrong with her! It
was like her brain cells refused to obey. The eyes, it was all because of
his eyes. Damn!
    “Yeah,
you know, bachelor party, booze, friends and….SHOW!” he shouted enthusiastically
“Come, come in, trust me the audience has no patience! I just hope that you’re
wearing something sexier underneath!” he winked. His fingers - locked around
her wrist, the lips - millimeters from her ear. Oh, God! The warmth of
his body so close to hers was wrapping her like invisible blanket. His fingers
were burning through her skin, leaving a mark, deeper than she even realized.
    The
words finally reached Tara’s consciousness, making their way through the cobweb
of emotions and senses. A tiny, angry gleam flashed in her eyes.
    “So…
You think that I’m a part of some kind of an entertainment show, like
striptease show?!” the anger was slowly forcing its way into her voice. His
eyes never left hers, but there was no trace of shame or regret in them, they
were still confident and relaxed, maybe slightly curious. The anger in Tara was
inflaming with each passing second. This man was just driving her mad. He
insulted her straight in the face, still grinning smugly. She wanted so much to
wipe that smile or rather to tear it up with her fingernails. But what was
wrong with her? It wasn’t in her style to let the aggression gain the upper
hand. Tara took a deep breath and with the cockiest expression and an icy
voice, asked:
    “Is
Tom here? I would like to talk to him.”
    “Tara?”
Tom got up from the couch apparently had one or two drinks more. “I see, you’ve
already met.” the smile on his face suggested that he felt the rising tension
around them too.
    “Not
exactly.” said Tara. The fingers of the stranger opposite still twined round
her wrist like a bracelet, forged from white hot steel. She abruptly pulled her
hand away, which for a second seemed to cause bewilderment in him, but only a
moment later the sneer settled back into his eyes.
    “Tara,
this is Peter McClain, my best friend at the university and our best man. He
has just returned from Australia. Great, right?” The silence after Tom’s words
could be cut with a knife. Turning, he continued:
    “Peter,
this is Tara Whyley, Claire’s best friend and our maid of honor.” Tom was
barely keeping a straight face. Peter’s pupils widened for a fraction of a
second.
    “But
this is wonderful! So, we will see us often in the coming days!” there was no
trace of uneasiness in his voice and even a hint of an apology in connection to
the scene that had just taken place.
    “I’m
afraid! Tom, I didn’t know that you were in such a company!” she spat the
words. The disparagement in Tara’s voice was evident and the anger was creeping
up again. “I’ve always imagined you in better crowd!” But why that stranger
made her fly into rage, wanting to hurt him? And why she was feeling even worse
now, when she had? Her thoughts echoed in the empty hall, mocking her. Fool! Peter ignored the insult, but the sparks in his eyes went out and their color
mimicked thunder clouds, reflected in the ocean.
    “Anyway,”
Tara tried to restore her balance, although emotions swirled faster within her.
“Tom, I came to leave the schedule for tomorrow. Don’t be late!” Tara turned
round and sighed quietly. She was out of his stare’s trap. Then why this
feeling of expectation didn’t leave her. She took a few steps, enjoying the
touch of soft carpet to her toes and thinking she was out of danger, twisted
her head just before turning into the hallway. Damn! Peter was still
standing at the door casually leaning on its frame. The sun, peering through
the window, reflected in his hair, making it look aflame. His eyes were serious
and somewhat guarded, but still never left Tara’s, creating a bridge of
electricity