by Naomi Martin
“Anyway, your moot point is wrong, you know,” I say. “That guy Danny… what’s his last name?”
“Miller.”
I nod. “Right. Danny Miller. He likes you.”
She rolls her eyes. “Oh, he does not. He’s never said a word about—”
“It’s not in what he says,” I cut her off. “It’s what he doesn’t say. But more than that, it’s the way he looks at you. I can see it plain as day.”
Her laughter echoes through the fog. “You are seeing things, then. We’ve been friends since we were kids—nothing more.”
“Only because you have these big, thick walls up around you,” I counter. “Trust me on this. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, and it’s the look of one lovesick little puppy.”
We fall into silence again as we walk, Katie mulling over what I just said. And it’s her silent contemplation that confirms for me that she’s into him, too. She looks over at me, a worried expression on her face.
“What if you’re wrong?”
I arch an eyebrow at her. “I’m not. Trust me, I am one hundred percent right about this.”
“So, then, what are we going to do? I mean, it’s not like I have a lot of experience with boys and all. I wouldn’t know—”
“Leave it to me. I’ll make the magic happen,” I reply. “I mean, if you want to be with—”
“Yes!” She almost shouts as she nods her head. “I mean, yeah, that would be… cool. As long as you’re sure he—”
I laugh. “I’m sure.”
“Great. I mean, that’s… cool.”
I take her hand and give it a squeeze as we get to her street. We stop and stare at each other for a moment and I see the hope and excitement in her eyes. I can tell she really likes Danny. The sound of a dog barking echoes somewhere in the darkness again, seeming to be coming from all around us at once. It sends a chill running down the length of my spine.
“See? The fog distorts sound.” Katie seems to pick up on my unease. “That’s the Hawleys’ dog, Mika. They live across the street from me.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because I’ve lived across the street from it for the last six years.”
My grin is slow and halting. “Fair enough.”
“Unless, of course, it’s a man in a hockey mask carrying a chainsaw coming to steal your soul.”
I laugh and punch her in the arm. “You are awful,” I squeal. “And stop mixing movies. I count three different references in there.”
“Okay, I gotta go,” she says. “I need to finish a little homework tonight.”
“On a Friday night?”
“Well, yeah,” she says like it’s the most obvious—and normal—thing in the world. “What else would I do at night?”
I give her a sly grin. “Well, when I work my magic on you and Danny, I have a feeling your Friday nights are going to start looking a lot different.”
She gives me that hopeful smile again and I find myself hoping I’m not going to let her down. I really do think Danny likes her. He seems to get that certain look in his eyes and lights up a little more whenever she enters a room, which tells me he really likes her. I don’t think it’s the case, but I’ve been known to misread or misinterpret signs before. I just hope I can somehow work around the case of social awkwardness they both have and get them together. Katie deserves to be with somebody who likes her as much as Danny seems to.
“Okay, so I’ll talk to you later, then,” Katie says.
“Absolutely. I’ll text you later.”
She gives me one more smile and then turns, bouncing off down the street, the idea of a boy liking her seeming to put a little extra spring in her step. I turn and head toward for home, which is a couple of streets down, my mind suddenly filling with thoughts of the three boys I’ve tangled myself up in—and what I’m going to do about it.
I mean, it’s good that they aren’t at each other’s throats over it. That they seem to be enjoying this whole… game. I would hate to be the reason three old friends like that argued—although I can’t deny feeling a certain cheap thrill that three gorgeous boys are fighting for my attention. But I meant it when I told them there is something about each of them I’m completely drawn to and captivated by.
I’m a teenage girl, sue me.
But a contest for my affection? A game to see who I like better? It’s ridiculous, but I know it’s also something I brought upon myself. I let myself get caught up and carried away in their attention and let it go to my head. Can I really be blamed, though? I mean, I can’t think of a single person who wouldn’t allow themselves to flirt back when gorgeous people are chasing them. My only hope is that however this all plays out, it doesn’t ruin the friendship between them.
As I walk along, consumed by thoughts of Ryan, Xavier, and Lucas, a smile touches my lips. It quickly falls away, though, when I hear the sound of somebody clearing their throat behind me. My heart hammering in my chest, I spin around and feel a white-hot jolt of adrenaline when I see somebody standing on the sidewalk about fifty yards behind me.
The person is standing just outside the cone of light from the streetlight and is shrouded in fog, leaving them as nothing more than a silhouette in the darkness. I’m unable to make out any distinguishable features. About all I can tell is that they’re tall and thin.
They just stand there, staring at me through the veil of fog and night, neither moving nor speaking. The thought occurs to me that it’s one of the boys messing with me. Maybe a little payback for the position I’ve put us all in. Just from the silhouette, I can tell it’s not Xavier—he’s a lot bulkier than the mystery man. And whoever it is looks taller than Lucas. Which leaves just one person it could be.
“This isn’t funny, Ryan,” I call. “You scared me.”
I get no response from him. No reaction at all. He just stands there in the middle of the sidewalk.
“Come on, stop being a creeper and walk me home.”
Again, I get no response. The lack of any sort of reply sends fingers of ice sliding up my spine and back down again, forcing an army of goosebumps to march across my skin.
“Ryan? This isn’t funny.”
Finally, I get a response—but it’s one that freezes the blood in my veins. Those fingers of ice brushing my back have suddenly turned into a fist that reaches through my chest, gripping my heart and squeezing it tight. I find it hard to move, to speak, to breathe.
The figure behind me shakes its head slowly in an apparent reply to my question—not Ryan. It touches off an explosion of terrified nerves inside of me and I feel myself trembling. I stand rooted to my spot, staring at the figure in the darkness, my heart beating a staccato rhythm inside of me as tears well up within my eyes, making them burn.
Suddenly, the figure takes a step forward, moving toward me. The movement breaks my paralysis and I let out a sharp squeal as I turn and run. I can hear his footsteps pounding the pavement behind me and I feel the tears streaming down my face. I don’t even want to risk a glance behind me—doing so might only serve to freeze me up again. Instead, I lower my head, grit my teeth, and run for all I’m worth.
As I sprint for home, a darkly amusing thought passes through me, of Katie talking about speed. She was right. There is field-hockey speed and terrified, run-for-your-life speed. A crazed fit of laughter bursts from my throat as I run—I’m obviously half out of my mind with fear.
The muscles in my legs and my lungs burning with exertion, I round the corner and dig deep, trying to find those reserves of strength people in life or death situations all talk about for the final push home. My pulse is pounding so loudly in my ears, I can’t tell whether or not he’s still chasing me. My only focus is getting home.
When I push through the gate at the front of our walk, I almost let out a cry of victory. I bound up the steps to the front door and finally look behind me as I pull my keys out of my pocket. A choked croaking sound escapes me.
The street is empty.
My breath coming in long, heaving gasps, I look up one side of the street and down the other. Fog obscures much of the road and thick pockets of shadow render other portions invisible, but from where I stand at the top of our porch, the street beyond our house is empty. And, other than my labored breathing, there isn’t a sound to be heard. It’s as if the figure chasing me just… disappeared. Like he’d somehow melted into the shadows, or maybe dissipated like fog at daybreak.
He’s just gone—like a puff of smoke on the breeze.
I quickly unlock the door and step inside. My dad’s already gone to bed, so I quietly pull it shut and lock it. Turning out all of the downstairs lights, I move over to the window beside the door and peer out at the street beyond. Just as it had been before I came in, it’s deserted. Quiet. As if nothing happened.
I lean my head against the door, my heart finally starting to slow down to the point that it doesn’t feel on the verge of exploding. I make my way upstairs and flop down on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, doing my best to quiet a mind that’s currently spinning a hundred miles an hour.
Who was that on the street? Had it been Ryan screwing with me? Was he trying to get even for the whole dating mess by scaring me? The more I turn that over in my mind, the less likely it seems. He’s just too nice of a guy to do something so mean.
But then, how well do I really know him? Yeah, we shared a connection on the beach that night—a connection that seems to be growing stronger the more we talk. But aside from some good conversations and a shared kiss that could have easily led to more, what do I actually know about him? I certainly don’t know what’s in his heart and mind. I don’t really know him, know him yet. Like, on a spiritual sort of level. I don’t know everything that makes him tick.
And then, of course, I have to factor in the possibility that finding out his two best friends were also talking to me may have hurt him. It still boggles my mind that the three of them didn’t know they were all flirting with me, but I suppose that’s neither here nor there at this point. He very well may be upset about finding out that I was talking to his friends as well as him. And I’ve seen plenty of people I thought were decent humans do some really shitty things when they’ve been hurt.
But there is also the possibility that it was somebody else out there on the street. A stranger. Katie thinks Sapphire Bay is the safest place in the world but the cold, hard truth is that no place is truly safe. Anybody can be abducted or killed anytime, anywhere. Even a peaceful little haven like Sapphire Bay. All it takes is for someone to snap and do something terrible. Or for a stranger with bad intentions to think this town seems to a good place to stop and do something really evil.
The next thing you know, everybody is saying it was a case of being caught up in the wrong place at the wrong time, and all of the sudden Sapphire Bay is no different from any other town in this world.
When I feel like my legs will cooperate if I stand up, I get to my feet and grab my robe and pajamas and head for the bathroom. I think a warm shower is just what I need to warm my freezing skin and, hopefully, ease my racing mind.
I’m home and I’m safe. That’s all I need to focus on right now.
Chapter Fourteen
The following Monday morning, the first thing I do is track down Ryan. I’m going to get to the bottom of this one way or the other because all weekend, all I could think about was that he was behind it. And the more I thought about it, the more certain it became in my mind. By the time I hit campus today, it had become all but fact to me.
I find him in the quad at the coffee cart. He sees me waiting and gives me a wave, then apparently orders me a drink because he comes over to me with two lattes in hand. I let him lead me over to a bench underneath a soaring pine tree and we both take a seat. He flashes me a smile and hands me one of the drinks.
“This doesn’t count as a date, you know,” he says.
I don’t return his smile as I look at him. “Why would you do that?”
“Do what?”
I arch my eyebrow at him. “Are you really going to deny it?”
He laughs, a genuine light of amusement in his eyes. “Well, I’m certainly going to deny it until you tell me what you’re talking about.”
“Friday night. After I left Patty’s.” I watch his reaction closely, trying to gauge the level of deception in his next words.
“After you left Patty’s, and—what?”
I sigh, frustrated. “You acted all creepy out on the street. Chased me.”
“I did? Did I catch you?”
I slap his arm and growl. “Stop screwing around, Ryan. You scared the shit out of me.”
“I’m sorry somebody scared you, but I swear to God it wasn’t me, Tatum.”
A small frown creases his lips and as he looks into my eyes, I see no deception. All I see is genuine concern. As far as I can tell, he’s actually telling me the truth.
“I would never do that to you,” he adds. “Are you okay?”
I huff and drum my fingers against the cup in my hand. “I’m fine. I was just… terrified.”
“What happened?”
I tell him about the person on the street and he listens, growing more concerned with my every word. At the end, though, his expression shifts, and he looks angry.
“Why didn’t you call me? I would have—”
“Why would I call you? I thought it was you.”
He gives me an apologetic smile. “Oh. Right.”
I sit quietly for a minute and process the new information. If it wasn’t Ryan, then who was it? It certainly wasn’t Xavier or Lucas—the body type wasn’t right. But who? Who would want to terrify me like that?
“Did you tell your dad?” Ryan asks. “Or maybe you should talk to the sheriff?”
“I was going to talk to my dad about it, but he gets crazy overprotective sometimes. I didn’t want to freak him out or anything. The last thing I need is for him to call in the National Guard.”
Ryan laughs softly. “Yeah, that probably wouldn’t be a good thing.
I turn and look him square in the eyes. “So, you swear it wasn’t you?”
He nods solemnly. “I swear to God, Tatum. It wasn’t me.”
And I believe him. For as big of a goofball as he can be, I tend to think he’d probably be a pretty crappy liar. I also pride myself on having a pretty finely-tuned bullshit meter, and he’s not setting it off.
“Maybe it was just some random kid screwing with you?” he offers. “You know, like those idiots who run around in clown costumes at night scaring people?”
I laugh, recalling the news stories about that—then cringe when I remember I’d thought it sounded like fun and had wanted to do it, myself. Maybe this is a case of my hypocrisy coming back to bite me in the butt.
“Yeah, maybe that’s what it is.”
“I bet it is.” Ryan is doing his best to reassure me. “We have some real idiots in this town.”
“Oh, hey, new girl.”
I cringe at the sound of Renee’s voice behind me. I see Ryan’s face darken with anger as he looks at her.
“What do you want, Renee? I’m kind of not in the mood for your bullshit today.”
Her giggle sets my teeth on edge but I’m not going to give her the satisfaction of seeing how angry she makes me. I sit where I am, not bothering to turn around to face her.
“Just thought you might want to know that your best wasn’t good enough,” Renee says. “Not that I couldn’t have told you that.”
I finally turn around and glare at her. “What are you talking about?”
She flips a sheet of paper into my lap and I look down at it. It’s the final posting for the field hockey team—and my name isn’t on it.
“Yeah, sorry that Coach K cut you, but you understand. She only wants winners on her team.”
“Real classy, Renee.” Ryan sneers at her.
“Oh, come on, Ry,” she chirps. “Like you’d take some loser who didn’t know what they were doing on your basebal
l team. You should have seen her flailing around out there. I argued with Coach K to keep her just for the comedy relief.”
“You don’t have to be such a bitch about it,” he replies.
“Well, I disagree,” she says. “Anyway, maybe next time, loser. Toodles.”
Renee and her minions sashay away, leaving me staring at the piece of paper in my hand. Ryan and I sit together in silence for a couple of minutes, sipping our coffees, and I try to get over the sting of being cut from the team. I mean, I knew it was likely. Probable, even. My chances of making the team hovered somewhere between slim and none from the first moment I’d stepped onto the field—but being flat-out rejected still hurts like a bitch.
“Hey, don’t sweat her,” he says. “She’s just a miserable bitch whose only joy in life is shitting on other people.”
“Yeah, I know. And it’s fine. I wasn’t really cut out for it, anyway. She was right in saying that I was flailing around out there. I had no idea what I was doing.”
“It probably wasn’t as bad as you think.”
I laugh. “It was worse. But, hey, that’s okay. Being up on stage is more my speed and they’re going to be holding tryouts for Our Town next month. Think I’d make a good Emily Webb?”
Now it’s his turn to laugh. “I’m not sure who she is, but I think you’d kill any part you played. And I’ll be sure to be sitting right there in the front row to see you perform.”
My mouth falls open as I look at him—but not because of the sweet thing he just said.
“How can you not know who Emily Webb is? How can you not know Our Town? It’s a brilliant production. Oh my God, Ryan—”
He’s laughing and holds a hand up. “Okay, do you know who Randy Johnson is? How about Joe DiMaggio? Or maybe Derek Jeter?”
I give him a mischievous wink. “Since you’re referencing them, I’ll assume they’re sportsballers of some kind.”
