The second year of Simi's high school would pass by quickly, in spite of her reluctance to participate in any social invitations of her classmates, carried over from the summer. And pass well, it would for her—with honors. For it was by her simple discovery that employing a minimum level of concentration and effort, she could easily find herself in the top ten percent of her class. And this was all accomplished without any dependence on others or her loving parents.

It was also during this year that her art teacher, Miss Morgan, perhaps the only independent thinking staff member at Rosemont High, took a respectful attitude toward Simi's talents and her merits of character. The young teacher saw a bit of herself in Simi's defiance toward convention, and her fierce, autonomous nature continuously impressed her. They often spent Miss Morgan's free hour at school discussing periods of art history and Simi's love of all things Gothic.

It was also about this time that she started to see more of Jaylon, the young man on the motorcycle whom she had met the school year before. He visited her more  regularly and usually just after classes when she arrived back in Madrid. Though he claimed to live somewhere near Santa Fe, Simi noticed that by merely thinking of him in a meditative way, he would often appear as if from nowhere on his bike. 

Like her exceptional abilities to summon animals while still a small child, this new phenomenon of attracting Jaylon was not something she questioned or particularly marveled at. The young man, she discovered, was also an independent spirit who told her he never went to school or worked for anyone. And there was something exciting in his stark features when he told her these things—his penetrating eyes and a manly build which she had a hard time forgetting when the time came for him to capriciously leave.

Recently, Jaylon had offered to take her on rides around the outskirts of Madrid on his motorbike. And though she knew this had to be out of her neighbors' sight so as not to alert her parents of the practice, she came to savor the risk of his presence and company more and more. Placing her arms around his chest and pulling her body up against his back as he sped around curves and accelerated on the straightaways, gave her a heady sensation that seemed to vibrate throughout her whole body, leaving her skin scintillating even as the sound of his bike had dissipated into the hills when he left her.

On one mid-fall day when the cooler breezes around Madrid were sweeping the amber fallen leaves around the edges of the roads, Jaylon took Simi up to the top of a hill the locals called "Beacon Knoll." They were alone there when Jaylon turned off his bike and climbed off of it taking Simi by the hand. They moved to the crowned precipice and looked down onto the village in the afternoon light. He turned her face gently toward his with an un-gloved  hand and their eyes eagerly met.

"You'll remember this day," he told her softly. "Because of two things."

She felt the warmth of his face closer to his now as she waited for him to explain.

"Firstly, because you need to know why I am here."

She felt a growing excitement inside her that was too untamed to allow her to speak. She just waited as he put his hands gently around her waist, his chest now closer to hers.

"I am here because I am . . . and always have been . . . on your side of life," he said in a whisper. "The . . . darker side of this life."

Simi could only feel and hear her own breathing irrepressibly stronger as Jaylon pulled her even closer so that their bodies, thighs and chests were now fully touching.

"And as you know, Simi . . . we have never been understood, you and me. Or tolerated by those who want our shadows to be extinguished by their bright light."

Her head was now reeling from the intense moment and his words.

"A light that can find us in the darkness and quickly turn to flames."

"She could sense her legs weakening and her hands trembled slightly as she allowed them to move effortlessly up to his broad shoulders, boldly anticipating his immanent embrace.

"You will remember this day. First, because of what  have just told you. That we are one . . . And second . . . because of this . . ."

Jaylon slowly bent down with his face closer to hers. Softly, he pressed his warm lips to hers and at the same time pulled her weakened and vulnerable body against his with inescapable force. His hands caressed her waste and hips, while his mouth moved only slightly. Soon his lips gently explored the contours of hers, and Simi surrendered to him with a more open kiss. To Simi's blissful paralysis of what was happening, she felt her tongue lightly touched by his in what seemed an involuntary and intimate gesture of the closest unity.

It was a kiss that seemed an eternal moment, leaving her breathless and incapable of pulling away. But it was Jaylon who finally relaxed his arms and allowed space and a cooling air to pass between them. As their faces finally receded from each other, he simply took her hand and led her back to the bike while he started with a sobering roar. Simi seemed dazed still on the way back to Madrid, where he stopped the powerful machine only yards from her front door. Jaylon only motioned dispassionately for her to enter her house and then he departed—the wail of his engine now only a whisper in the direction of Santa Fe.

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Text and e-book copyright © 2014 Califia Montalvo

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