Savior (The Savior Series Book 1) by A. King Bradley Page A

was the subtle jealously that I felt as I watched her pine over the virtual projection of a guy she had never met before. Whatever the case, my attempt to kiss the girl of my dreams was unsuccessful. I took solace in the fact that she did not freak out. She simply pulled her head just out of reach as I made my move.
    I had seen in the movies where the girl always resisted at first but ultimately came back in for the big kiss. I waited for that moment as we stared into each other's eyes but the moment never came.
    A potent wave of embarrassment washed over me as I sat there, probably looking like a buffoon in her eyes. I stood and turned my back to her, wishing I could somehow have that moment back.
    “I’m sorry. I didn't mean to be too forward,” I said as I felt her soft hand fall onto my shoulder.
    “It’s okay, Adam. You don't have to apologize. I just don't know if I'm ready for that yet.” Her voice was soft and comforting.
    As Travis’ tunes still played in the background, I buried my shame beneath a mountain of pride. I could feel it coming, but there was no way I was about to let a tear fall. The faux-smile that I plastered across my face was as genuine a fake smile as I could muster as I whipped around to face her.
    “Can I at least have a hug?” I asked. My delivery of the line was infinitely smoother than I expected. Where did this swagger come from? I thought. It felt as though I was having an out-of-body experience, as this version of myself took in stride the caliber of rejection that would normally bring me to my knees.
    Monica smiled as she gazed at me. I could tell that she was still trying to figure me out, but as she fell into my outstretched arms, there was no denying that she liked me. We embraced with the 3D avatar of Travis still dancing a few feet away.
    “Creeper,” Monica jokingly mumbled with her head still buried in my chest.
    I smiled as I stared at the projection of Travis. For a fraction of a second we seemed to lock gazes. I silently mouthed the words “I win” before he went back to dancing.
    It was true. I had won, but in my gut it only seemed to be a temporary victory. The girl of my dreams was falling for me, but would she feel the same if she knew the real me? Would she still be comfortable being alone with me at this time of night if she knew what I was truly capable of?
     

 
     
    14. THE DARK SIDE OF ME
     
    MY FATHER WAS UP TO HIS USUAL SHENANIGANS WHEN I arrived at home. He and my mother were in the middle of one of their trademarked arguments as I entered the living room. My mother quickly turned away from me, probably hoping I had not noticed the tears in the corners of her eyes.
    “Where the hell have you been?” Phillip, Sr. barked as soon as he noticed me. I knew better than to ignore him when he was in that kind of state. His normally yellowish eyes were reddened and I could smell the alcohol on his breath from twelve feet away.
    “I was just hanging out with a friend. I lost track of time,” I said quietly.
    “You lost track of time? How in the hell did you lose track of time?”
    “Dad, it’s Friday. Give him a break!” said PJ, who had surprisingly emerged from the basement to come to my defense.
    “Quiet, PJ! Your father is just concerned,” our mother interjected. It was hard for me to even look at her lately. She always had this look of sorrow in her eyes that would nearly bring me to tears. She was only 45 years old, but her now sunken face and hollow cheeks made her appear to be far older. It was as though the stress of our poverty and her desolate marriage to our father had caused her to age at twice the normal rate.
    “You’d better listen to your mother, boy,” Phillip, Sr. growled as he glared at PJ.
    I could tell by the expression on PJ’s face that he had no intentions of backing down. There was a familiar darkness within his eyes. A darkness that I knew all too well. I had felt it seeping into me and corrupting my soul as I plunged Fat