Starbright
Page 6

School.
Would I even be going to school after winter break? An uneasy feeling crept into my belly. I hadn’t really felt all that attached to high school before last night, but now the thought of giving it up, the idea of moving on with my life already felt so… final. So… depressing.
With another sigh, only this one sounding more disgruntled and angry than happy, I threw the covers off and sat up in bed. With men downstairs, it was probably a good idea to get dressed before breakfast. That would mean a bra. Definitely a bra. Although a part of me rebelled against the idea of wearing anything but sweats while eating chocolate chip pancakes, I didn’t see much other choice.
Just like my future.
Ok, get a grip.
I laughed a little, and forced myself to smile again. I was being absolutely ridiculous about the whole thing. Whatever happened would be for the best, I believed that, it was just easy to forget and I didn’t want to wallow in self-pity. That wasn’t who I was, or who I was born to be.
Besides, I didn’t actually know anything for certain and I wasn’t going to get any answers staring into my closet, willing them to appear.
With a final, determined decision to face whatever the next step of my life was going to be with a good attitude, I stood up and walked into my narrow walk-in closet. I chose the workout outfit I would wear later in the day, no sense in dirtying more clothes than necessary. And then shimmied into track pants over my short, red running shorts. Adding a zip up jacket over my nylon tank top, I pulled my golden hair into a loose bun on the nape of my neck without brushing it.
Deciding makeup was not necessary this morning, I left my room for the bathroom and a quick wash of the face. Staring at myself in the round mirror, I wondered if I looked any different now that the Protectorship was technically mine. My skin tone was the same flawless bronze that Seth’s was, a byproduct of our natural inner light; even without actually glowing, we still kind of glowed so to speak. The girls at school envied me for my great skin, and I thanked them leaving out the fact that it was a byproduct of fighting demons. My eyes were still frighteningly pale blue, like the color of really frozen ice, not just the cubes, more like polar ice caps. My eyes were my least favorite feature; they were too pale… to other-worldly. And they were so freaking big! Why did they have to be so big? I was convinced I looked like a tan dead person or the big bad wolf.
The better to see you with my dear….
Splashing more cold water on my face I wondered if other Stars worried about the shade of their eyes or were embarrassed of their skin tone. Or maybe, born and raised in the lowest level of Heaven, and then sent to light up the galaxy and protect the universe, they had never even seen their reflection in a mirror.
Huh.
Vanity was surely not an asset they possessed though, not something they lived with. And with that thought I left the bathroom in search of the traditional Sunday breakfast Annabelle always made for me. Other than saving humanity, eating chocolate chip pancakes had to be my second favorite event ever.
I bounded down the servant stairs and into the kitchen expecting to greet Annabelle’s happy face and a plate full of steaming hot chocolate chip pancakes, like every other Sunday morning of my life when my parents were out of town. The chocolate chip pancakes were there, but Annabelle’s face wasn’t so much happy as it was terrifying and angry.
The whole atmosphere of the kitchen felt ripe with an awkward confrontation on the verge of a cataclysmic explosion and I immediately tensed with anxiety. I hoped Annabelle wasn’t mad at me, although I worried now that maybe Annabelle didn’t remember me coming to her room last night and was very surprised to find a house full of men when she woke up this morning.
“Good morning,” I greeted Annabelle who was at the stove with her back to the rest of the room, rigid as a pole. Jupiter sat at the kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee and reading the Sunday morning newspaper. When no one answered, I tried to encourage more conversation. “Annabelle do you remember me coming to your room last night? I don’t know if you had a chance to meet Jupiter this morning, but he’s is a friend-“
“Oh, we’ve met,” Annabelle cut me off with uncharacteristic shortness. She was usually direct and alarmingly to the point, a personality trait that had taken half my childhood to get used to. But we had such a strong relationship now, that I couldn’t imagine what had set her off.
Jupiter grunted then, a disgruntled snort of disapproval and it dawned on me exactly what the problem was. Annabelle half turned around to say something, but then seemed to think better of it. Shaking her spatula in the air irritably, she focused her attention back on flipping pancakes.
“Stella, how many pancakes would you like?” Annabelle asked, her frustration masked with a forcefully sweet tone.
“Um, four. No, wait, five,” Annabelle loaded up my plate with her perfectly fluffy, deliciously chocolaty pancakes and I couldn’t help myself but call out again, “Wait! Six. I want six pancakes and no more!” I finished dramatically, waving my hand in the air as if Annabelle was the one forcing me to eat so many.
Annabelle delivered the hefty plate to the table, along with a bottle of warmed up maple syrup. I eyed my breakfast with a ravenous hunger, my eyes gleaming with gluttony. This time when Annabelle smiled down at me, her expression was real, shaped with true affection and amusement.
“Don’t worry,” I explained to no one in particular, in between delicious mouthfuls of carbs. “Tristan and I are running later, so I’ll work this all off.”
“Who’s Tristan?” Jupiter asked, already positive he wouldn’t like the answer.
“He’s my best friend,” I answered quickly, squirting more hot syrup in between the thick layers of pancakes. “And Annabelle’s grandson,” I added.
“A human,” Jupiter grumbled, disdain marking his tone.
“What else would he be?” Annabelle retorted from the stove.
“A pet,” Jupiter mumbled soft enough that only I, with my intensified hearing could make out his nasty comment.
“Jupiter,” I gasped, still not sure what to make of my weapon’s trainer. He tossed me a look that cautioned not to bother him again and I decided to heed his warning.
“Stella, were you planning on going to church this morning?” Annabelle asked, turning off the griddle and emptying the spatula of the last perfectly made pancake onto a plate with identical others.
“Oh, I meant to tell you, I kind of…. my Jeep is kind of out of commission right now, so I was going to suggest someone else pick you up for church today,” I tried to skirt around the truth, hoping Annabelle just didn’t ask too many questions. It would be hard enough explaining how I accomplished that much damage to my vehicle and then walked away, let alone how the car got righted again and why on Earth I went ahead and picked up my supposed family friends after all that I would have allegedly gone through.
“Oh, that’s all right, I’ll just have Trenton come after me then,” Annabelle moved the griddle to the sink and immediately started on her dishes. “And if he’s coming after me anyway, I might as well head on home after service. Your parents will be back tonight and with your guests, I really don’t think you’ll need me around today.” A muscle in Annabelle’s jaw twitched, tightening the wrinkled skin around her mouth. I noticed the subtlety and decided not to argue. I hated it when Annabelle left, she felt so much like part of the family, but I also knew Annabelle was a polite woman, proper and gracious and everything she thought a woman should be. Her behavior was super out of the ordinary for her and it was probably driving her crazy. I bit my bottom lip to keep herself from smiling at this same well-mannered woman just barely holding back her restraint from letting Jupiter have what could be decades of pent up sassiness.
“Ok, if you have to go, then you have to go,” I sighed, standing up to kiss Annabelle on the cheek. “I’ll finish these, if you want to go get ready.”
“Will you call Trent for me too?” Annabelle looked thrilled at the chance just to leave the kitchen; I could hardly imagine what transpired before I entered the scene.
“Sure,” I smiled and pulled the cellphone from my running pants. I pounded out a quick text to Tristan, explaining his grandmother’s wishes and then waited for a reply, tapping my fingernails on the counter in a measured rhythm.
“Is that another human friend of yours?” Jupiter asked dryly.
“Trent is Tristan’s older brother. He goes to college in Lincoln, but he’s home for winter break,” I explained.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Jupiter noted.
I laughed lightly, realizing I hadn’t. I was just used to people understanding everything between Tristan’s family and mine…. between Tristan and me. “Yes, he is my friend. I’m sorry; I guess I assumed I answered that.”
“Hmph,” Jupiter grunted again and then turned back to his paper.
“What is that smell?” a groggy baritone voice asked from the doorway to downstairs.
Seth leaned against the doorframe, shirtless and disheveled. His black sweatpants sat low on his hips, revealing a thin line of plaid boxers and perfectly chiseled hip bones. His dark hair was a mess of waves that laid across his head in wild tangles, curling into charming semi-circles just at their tips. He crossed his arms and lifted his nose into the air, breathing in the aroma of baked chocolate chips left in the kitchen.
His eyes found mine because I was staring at him with a mixture of embarrassment and wide-eyed wonder from the sink. I had seen plenty of boys shirtless before, plenty of good looking, athletic boys. I had grown up with Tristan and his brothers who had all been practically shirtless from the time we met, and they were all hot…. But nothing I had ever seen compared to the Angel standing in front of me.
The Actual angel.
I reminded myself that Warriors were born that way. They lived hard, grueling lives and any lesser physique wouldn’t stand a chance against the Darkness. Still, I had to clamp my mouth closed when he lifted one palm to rub at the overnight stubble that darkened his jawline with the palm of his hand. His smile deepened and his honey colored eyes twinkled, turning his expression mischievous.
I turned back to the dishes, convinced he could read my thoughts. My impure, totally uncalled for sinful thoughts. And as I scrubbed the griddle clean, I wondered how treacherous it was to have lustful thoughts about my Counterpart before we were even…. uh…. more than whatever we were? Surely, I was the first Star to do so in the history of the entire universe. Lust being one of the seven deadly sin and all…. I ignored him, or pretended to, as he brushed past me into my square country kitchen.
“Are these for me?” Seth asked, reaching for the plate of pancakes.
“Yeah, Annabelle made them for us,” I explained quietly, trying to hide the embarrassing squeak in my voice.
“Awesome,” Seth muttered and then sat down heavily at the table across from Jupiter.
When he used the syrup bottle for an extended amount of time, I couldn’t help but glance over at him. There he sat with the entire plate of left over pancakes, his fork digging in and breaking them apart savagely so he could shovel them in his mouth. There had to be at least fifteen of pancakes, stacked gluttonously high on his plate. The maple syrup dripped down over the top of the pancake mountain in glops of sticky liquid and every time he took a bite he made this adorable little moaning sound that I desperately hated.