Faeling

A week went by with no additional contact from the Council. Merritt assumed that meant they had taken his word that he had not, in fact, tried to kill Rhiannon. Cid Rune had actually seemed quite interested in his story about Oz—not that Merritt had wanted to tell it. When a Council member—especially Cid Tobias Rune—asked a question, you answered truthfully and left nothing out. A lie of omission was most definitely a lie where the Council was concerned.

Strangely enough, Cid Rune had offered to bring some rather large names in the local art scene to Daedalus for Oz’s exhibition. Merritt hadn’t seen her since he’d visited her place to take a look at her work. He didn’t want to over-play his card as kind art-benefactor. He hadn’t even called her to give her the good news about her exhibition at Daedalus until today. He wasn’t sure, for the first time in a long while, what his next move was. Instead, he’d thrown himself into work.

Merritt was sitting at his large desk, papers surrounding him in neat piles, when there was a knock at his apartment door.

“I’m busy, Theo!” he yelled at the interloper, not bothering to get up. Theo was the only one who bothered to come see him at his flat.

“Uhm, it’s not Theo... He gave me your address,” came the quiet reply.

Merritt strode to the door and took a moment to glance in the mirror, straightening the one or two hairs from out-of-place. He checked the peephole just to be certain before whipping open the door with a bright smile. “Hello, Oz, I’m sorry about that, what can I do for you?”

She blushed, of course. “It’s no problem, I’m sorry to bother you at your place. I wanted to surprise you but I didn’t really think it through.” She chewed her lip nervously and offered him the white box in her hands. “It’s raspberry,” she explained at his quizzical look. “Theo said you liked raspberry pie.”

“Oh, it’s still warm!”

“Yeah, I just made it,” Oz confessed with a small smile. “And I brought you this...” She picked up a canvas she’d propped against the wall next to his door. She flipped it around so he could see. “Finally finished,” she said awkwardly to his silence.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of it. It looked even better than the first time she’d anxiously showed it to him. It looked like his happier, more beautiful twin. After a few long moments in which Oz turned redder and redder, he finally came back to his senses. “It’s incredible, Oz,” he whispered. He’d never heard that tone in his own voice before. His face grew suddenly warm and he turned away so Oz wouldn’t notice—Merritt Peters did not blush. “Come in—please.”

She awkwardly followed him through the penthouse to the kitchen so he could set the pie down. “Your place is beautiful,” she told him quietly.

“Thank you,” he replied, finally recovering enough to show her his best heart-stopping smile. She smiled back but still seemed entirely unaffected. Merritt fought the urge to sigh at the lack of result. He opened the white box and was assaulted by a delicious, sweet smell. “This smells... Magnificent. Do you mind if I try some?”

She smiled proudly. “Go ahead! I made it for you!”

“Would you like some, Oz?”

“No, thank you, I’d weigh eight thousand pounds by now if I ate all my own baking.”

“Anything to drink?”

“No, no, I’m fine. Don’t worry about being a host, I just barged in on you.” She gave him a little self-deprecating smile.

“It’s no trouble, Oz. I needed a break anyhow, but I am surprised that Theo gave you my address.” He decided he would have to talk to Theo later about who he gave out Merritt’s personal information to.

“I called Janna and she gave me your business number. I was actually quite surprised they put me straight through to your office.” Merritt was surprised as well. He wondered if his father had anything to do with it. “Theo picked up and seemed to think it would be a good idea to bring these over to you.”

Merritt took a bite of the pie. “Holy... This is amazing. Why are we doing an art show for you? You need a bakery.”

Oz turned tomato-red. “Baking’s just a hobby, really. It helps pay the bills but I love painting.” She chuckled through her blush. “I once had someone call my raspberry pie ‘edible happiness’.”

“They were right, Oz.” They sat there in silence as he quickly finished the pie. Setting down the plate he looked at the canvas Oz had placed leaning against the cabinets. He made a gesture towards it and she handed it to him. “This is really amazing work, you know.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly, this time with a soft smile instead of a blush.

“Can I just ask...” he started, not even really certain what he wanted to know. Merritt wasn’t used to being uncertain. “I guess I just want to ask when you started painting this. What is this based on? When did you see me look like this?”

She furrowed her brow at him. “This? You always look like this. Whenever I’m talking to you, you get this smile on your face,” she pointed at the smile in the painting.

Merritt felt his heart drop into his stomach but managed to keep his poker-face. He knew his face and all its expressions well—he’d tweaked and perfected every single one to convey exactly what he intended but this... It was something completely different. It was like looking into the sun.

Suddenly, his lips were on hers. When he thought about it later, he would have no idea how it had happened, but right now there were no thoughts to be found other than how soft her lips were and how sweet she tasted—like peaches. She was so warm, he’d never met someone so warm before.

It was only a second and then the contact was gone. Oz gave him a small, confused smile.

“Must have been some really good pie, huh?” She teased.

Merritt’s mind was struggling to unmuddle itself. He sputtered out an apology. “I’m so, so sorry, I’ve never done that before, I wasn’t thinking...”

“Never done what,” she asked lightly, “kissed a girl?”

Merritt took a step back and glared at her, angry with himself for losing his grip. “No, but I’ve never kissed a business associate over pie,” he fumed.

“Well,” Oz said evenly, “Let’s forget it ever happened, then.” She picked up the canvas and handed it to him. “I’m sorry to have bothered you, Mr. Peters.”

Merritt gaped at her. No woman had ever resisted his advances and frankly, with one smile and one kiss they were pretty much in his pocket. He couldn’t count the amount of times he’d whispered in someone’s ear, kissed them, and asked them for a favor—and Merritt Peters never gets turned down when he needs a favor. Never. With numb fingers he took the canvas and watched her walk towards the door. Her slender fingers were wrapped around the doorknob when he called out to her.

“Wait! Please, Oz, hold on.” She turned and leaned against the door, one eyebrow raised. He wished, fruitlessly, yet again that he could use his skill on her. “I just... I’m not sure I understand.”

Oz sighed. “What exactly don’t you understand?”

Merritt bristled at her vaguely condescending tone but forced out his question anyhow. “Why don’t you like me?” He felt himself turning red at the childish question and tried to keep composure.

To his horror, Oz laughed. Strangely, she didn’t seem to be laughing at him. “It isn’t that I don’t like you, Merritt. I think you know that. You’re lovely, but like I said—you’re well aware of it. You want me to fall at your feet and that just isn’t going to happen. I like you well enough but I don’t think you like me—you’re just intrigued that I’m not tripping over myself to sleep with you. It’s as simple as that.”

With a click of the door and a swish of blonde hair, she was gone. Merritt was left alone.