Enlilith

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“James, do I look like a woman to you?”

 

I tilted my head and stretched my pale leg out into the sunshine dramatically as if considering whether it was long enough. Seawater rushed onto the shore, holding us in one moment and then leaving us lonely. It was only James and me on the secluded beach, the dark blue ocean sparkling with shards of light.

 

I closed my eyes, reveling in the sound of waves tumbling in the distance, a salty breeze making my long orange curls dance over my bare shoulders. The wind had been getting stronger but the weather was still nice.

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” James retorted. “You are a woman.”

 

I hadn’t grown an inch in three years but something about my upcoming confirmation of maturity made me feel unprepared, somehow.

 

“Not the same as a human woman, surely.”

 

“Not this again,” James groaned. I smiled, not having to open my eyes to know the exasperated look on his face. I opened them anyway, turning my head to where James sat on my right, getting only his feet wet. I had been brave enough to wear my white knit bikini, but James wore a gray hooded sweatshirt and jeans, ready to embrace fall while I dragged my feet in the sand, literally.

 

“Well, it takes mortals eighteen to twenty-six years to mature,” I recited casually as if the concept had not plagued my mind; I thought of my own fae immortality. “How long did it take you?”

 

“I’m human, Nellie,” James called me by my nickname, the only name he had ever used.

 

“Yes.” I leaned back, propping myself up on the warm sand, watching James, certainly no older than me. His soft brown hair was tousled in the salty breeze, his blue-gray eyes focused on me. There was a boyish quality to his face that made it easy for me to forget what we were. “Yes, I suppose you are. Remind me, how old are you now?”

 

“Nell…”

 

“Why is your age such a big deal to you?” I demanded as James turned towards the ocean. He sighed.

 

“I was eighteen when you were born,” he replied reluctantly.

 

“So, thirty-four.”

 

Both of us were physically no different than young adults, me being in mind and body too old for my numerical age and him looking too young for his. I was almost sure, occasionally, that I had out-aged James, somehow, but I attributed the thought to my own conceit.

 

“Nellie, do me a favor and stop comparing yourself to humans. Stop comparing any of us to them. As a human, physically aging or not, I can tell you that we aren’t that interesting. And I don’t want you thinking of your age in comparison to how mortals age.”

 

I let out a deep breath and turned my attention to the sea. “So how do you feel about finally getting let off babysitting duty?”

 

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed James cast me a curious glance. “What?”

 

“James, I’m a lot of things, but dense is not one of them.” I re-situated myself. “Sending my Bond with me everywhere I go for sixteen years? Obviously, that’s the only reason you’ve been joined to my hip all of this time, right?” I stuck my tongue out at him and laughed.

 

“I happen to enjoy your company.”

 

It may have just been my imagination, but James seemed almost uncomfortable.

 

“Right, but…” My laughter died out more the longer I watched his face. “I was just joking, James. You’re my best friend. I wasn’t trying to imply otherwise. Only that, obviously, you should be my parents’ friend, maturity-wise. You have been and are a functioning adult.”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” James mumbled awkwardly, keeping his attention away from me and towards the horizon. “The other fae are infinitely older than both of us. This is why I wish you didn’t compare all of us to humans.”

 

“You are human, James,” I reminded him, resuming my teasing smile.

 

“I’m not that human.”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I sat up enough to raise my hands in mock defense. “You’re a human with superpowers. My bad.”

 

“You know what…?” James leaned over to ruffle my hair. I laughed, smiling broadly. Another wave rushed over us, wetting the hem of James’s jeans before backing out slowly.

 

“I’m glad about it, though,” I was still grinning when he stopped. “Even if it is to warden me.” I tried to pat down my hair where his fingers had tangled it on my scalp.

 

“Are you?” James seemed genuinely surprised.

 

“Yeah. I don’t know why anyone would think that having a Watcher was a bad thing.” I gave up and shook my hair to the side.

 

“There are bad fae Watchers,” he remarked dryly, tossing a shell out into the surf.

 

“Maybe, but I can’t picture it. Not if they’re like you.”

 

James’s face illuminated with a small smile but it seemed involuntary as it made him turn his face away.

 

The insistent breeze brushed my curls over my bare skin, tickling me. I shivered and fluffed my hair out, knowing that it would still be a disaster to brush out later; given my wild, thick mane, it usually was. If the wind was going to get stronger I was going to need to put something over my bathing suit. I tried to outlast the chilled air, not wanting James to be proved right that I ought to have worn more.

 

Carefully, James reached over and placed his hand over mine. For some reason, the touch felt intimate in a way I knew it shouldn’t. Warm. The warmth spread to my cheeks.

 

“You’re not going anywhere, right?” I asked nervously, thinking of the upcoming party on Wednesday. “It’s not as if you were only here to watch me, after all.” I glanced hesitantly at our hands and then up to James’s face. It was blank. He pulled his hand away casually, but it felt like a response to my words.

 

“On your birthday… I’d like to steal you for a moment, if I may.”

 

“You can steal me anytime you want,” I replied simply. What an odd concept; James asking for my presence implied a scenario where I wasn’t already with him.

 

He watched the next wave. It only came close enough to cover our toes before running away in fear.

 

“Maybe I should take you home.”

 

“That’s new.” Should.

 

“You’re all grown up. I should be teaching you to be responsible.”

 

“You should have taught me. I’m already ruined now.”

 

James stood to walk up the beach and grabbed my towel to chuck it at my head. It hit me square on, half draping down onto the damp sand beneath me.

 

“One of these days you’re going to knock me right out, and then what are you going to do?” I teased.

 

“You’re not that fragile.” He walked over to stand over me, offering a hand. I ignored it and got up, the towel draped over my shoulders.

 

“If anyone could break me, it would be you.”

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