Starcrossed

her face against his chest. He was the only unmovable object in the entire universe, and if Helen let him go of him she knew she would spin off into space forever and ever.
    “It’s okay,” he whispered into her ear. His breath was warm, and his voice soothed her. “I won’t let you go, Helen. I promise. Do you trust me?” The temperature dropped and great gusts of wind tossed her hair around in a tangle.
    She kept her face pressed against the L-shaped hollow where Lucas’s shoulder turned into his neck. She told herself that this is what difficult felt like, this was the “hard” that she had been cavalier enough to tell Lucas she preferred to “easy.”
    “Yes,” she whispered, feeling the cold, thin air crawl into her clothes and snatch the sounds she made away from her lips as soon as she spoke.
    “Then prove it,” he whispered back. “Open your eyes.”
    They stayed in the air until the sky was almost completely dark and Helen was so cold she couldn’t stop shaking. There was a lot for her to learn. Defying gravity was a big deal, but it was only half of flying. The other half was less of a mental leap, but it was also much trickier. Helen learned that to move through the air she couldn’t just flap her arms or kick her feet. She had to manipulate the air around her. Lucas started to teach her how to command the air, make it denser on one side and thinner on another so that a tiny, Helen-sized current was created around her. When Lucas did it, it seemed as if he were floating underwater. The wind didn’t whip at his hair or clothes but flowed around him, gently holding him or quickly pushing him, depending on how fast he wanted to go.
    Lucas spent most of this first lesson just floating there in front of Helen as if he were in the ocean, his long limbs sinuously riding the currents, his fingers splayed to stave off random eddies. He kept his arms out and ready to catch her in case she shot off too fast, or slipped off a current of air pressure that she had created unevenly before she tumbled into a spin. Flying was complicated, and Helen didn’t have the feel of it yet. It was a bit like learning to drive a car and aim a rifle at the same time. It required a light touch and complete concentration.
    Lucas also taught her tricks for not getting spotted by the “gravity impaired,” as he called the poor landlocked suckers they were looking down on. Helen was surprised to learn that early evening was actually the most dangerous time to fly. Sunset was when people looked up to admire the pretty colors, and on Nantucket it was also when half the island’s residents were making their living taking photos or churning out watercolors.
    Several times, Lucas had to grab Helen and fly out over the ocean so they weren’t seen. Apparently, flying any time during the day was dangerous, but if Helen stayed high enough, anyone who spotted her would think she was a bird. Night was the safest time, of course, and that’s when they could fly closer to the ground, which Lucas promised was a thrill. But all of it was a thrill to Helen, and when Lucas finally said that they should go in, she literally whined and asked for five more minutes. Lucas just laughed.
    “Believe me, I know how you feel. But I’m freezing,” he said. Helen pushed away from him with narrowed eyes and a small smile. She swooped over his shoulder and around his back, softly brushing against him as she passed.
    “Tomorrow?” she asked, feeling shy and powerful at the same time. He rolled over gracefully and captured one of her arms just before she could drift away.
    “Tomorrow. I promise,” he said quietly as he reeled her in. “But it’s nearly dark and my family will worry about us if we stay out any longer tonight.”
    Helen couldn’t argue with that, so she let Lucas hold her shoulders and steer her down to the soft patch of grass they had taken off from. She hovered above him as he transitioned gracefully into the gravity-state.
    “What do I do?” she asked, suddenly frightened again.
    “It’s okay. I know landing is intimidating, but I’m right here,” Lucas said patiently as he stood on the ground, his arms stretched up to hold both her hands as she floated above him.
    “I think I’ve seen a painting like this,” Helen said, giddy with fear. “But the woman in the painting had wings.”
    “Demigods, and gods for that matter, have always been attracted to artists, and sometimes they’ve painted us. The wings are