I follow a trail of dark halls and endless corridors, over towards a little blue sign.
“Skyla, wait.” It’s Logan the stalker.
I flatten my hand onto the ladies’ room door.
“I believe you,” he depresses out a thin smile.
“You do?” I’m shocked that he believes me over Gage. He’s probably trying to get on my good side, or in my pants, now that he thinks I put out. “So, I guess he fessed up and told you the truth.”
“Nope. Hasn’t come up.” He drinks me in as though I were capable of satiating him with my presence alone.
“Then why believe me?” I step aside so a group of girls can move through.
“Because,” he comes in close until I can feel the heat emanating off his body, “I could tell by the look on your face you were telling the truth.” He gives a slow blink. “Besides, it’s none of my business.” A blue light from above gives him the perfect Count aura. “I just thought it was important for you to know.”
“Well, thank you.” I’m stunned by this awkward exchange and slightly vindicated although he still deserves a slap for inciting such a stupid conversation with Gage to begin with.
“So,” his forehead wrinkles with curiosity, “why do you think Gage, of all people, would lie to me about something like that?”
“Lying runs in the family.” I let the words dance on my tongue on their way out.
“Not true.”
“Then maybe it was the fact you told him I would jump you anywhere, anyplace, even the back seat of a car,” I spit those last few words out like darts.
His chin inches back as he considers this.
“Sorry. He drives me insane with his incessant ranting about how perfect the two of you are, how perfect life would be without Chloe. I’m sure he means without me, too. Although, he’s already taken me out of the picture quite nicely.”
It never occurred to me that Logan might feel stabbed in the back by Gage.
He turns to leave then spins back around. “Oh, and Skyla? My uncle says the justice alliance wants to question me.”
I take in a lungful of air and forget to let go.
Great God.
They’re going to punish us.
Logan is going to be a bird and I’m going to be Ezrina.
Chapter Twenty-Three
It’s On
“So, you’re not really having a baby?” Mia seems distrustful of the results from Mom’s fertility space lab.
“Nope.” I continue to stuff a small suitcase Mom gave me for ski week. I still need to go to the mall tomorrow and pick up a snowsuit with Mom. She refuses to let me make such a large purchase on my own.
“So, are you still with Gage?”
“Yup,” I say, filling a separate bag with hair products.
“So, why was he holding that one girl’s hand during dinner?” She seems genuinely perplexed.
“Because he’s friendly. Didn’t you see me kiss him? We’re still together.” Freaking Chloe always screwing with everybody’s head.
“Yeah,” she eyes me suspiciously, “but I also noticed that his brother got up and went to the bathroom at the same time you did.”
“That’s because we both have overactive bladders, and by the way, he’s not his brother.” I really don’t feel like getting into the Oliver’s strange relations at the moment. For all practical purposes they’re brothers, back stabbing, girlfriend stealing brothers according to Logan.
“Oh,” she shakes out her blond hair, “you know what else?”
“You’re going to spontaneously disappear?” I ask, hopeful. If I could have one more extraterrestrial superpower it would be zapping people to another part of the planet at will. Chloe would be in Antarctica—cold and lonely just like her heart.
“Nope. I dropped my napkin,” she leans in like it means something. “Guess what I saw from under the table?” Probably Mom and Demetri playing foot tag. “You and Mr. Dudley holding hands.”
I take in a breath.
“Knew it!” She jabs a finger in my direction. “You are messing around with that teacher. That’s disgusting! He’s like a million times older than you are.”
She’s got that right.
“No, I’m not messing around with him. Our hands bumped when I was getting something out of my purse, that must have been what you saw.” Shit. Keeping one step ahead of Mia is like trying to outrun a car on the freeway. Speaking of cars, “I made another appointment at the DMV.”
“Finally! I can’t wait until Mom stops carting me around. You know she wore curlers yesterday when she took Melissa and me to the movies?”
“That’s because she hates you,” I tease, pulling a couple of sweaters out of the drawer.
“She doesn’t hate me.” She rolls her eyes at the idea. “It’s you she hates.”
“Does not.” That’s the last thing I’ll believe about my Count of a mother.
“Really? Then explain why she said you were the bane of her existence. And,” she snaps her fingers as though she were trying to recall something else, “oh, that she had to pretend her entire world bowed to your feet the day she met you.”
I stop shoving things into my bag at random.
Pretend? The day she met me?
I think it’s high time I reacquaint myself with Lizbeth Landon—reintroduce myself as Candace Messenger’s daughter.
***
Who knew it would be almost impossible to sneak away to the mall with Mom without having my relational appendage glom on for the ride—that includes Melissa, too.
They chatter about Gabriel Armistead all the way over, and in and out of every single store we trek through as though he were some new obnoxious song. I realize it’s the kid that wanted to deflower my sister because I recognize the name, but I can’t help feel like I’ve heard Armistead somewhere before.
“Do we know an Armistead?” I ask Mom while waiting in line at the cash register.
“Armistead.” She pops her lips while roving her gaze over the ceiling. “Oh, yes. They’re the ones that served the spiked lemonade to you and Drake. Never did get the scent of vomit out of those towels,” she squints into her admission.
“Gross.”
“Oh, they’re out of the house. Tad uses them to wash the cars.”
“Armistead. The night I puked my guts up.” And Gage left me naked… “Oh, that must be Carson’s brother.” I turn to face Mia and Melissa. “You can’t like him, his sister’s a pig.”
“Skyla!” Mom swats my arm as we hand over our merchandise to the cashier. “Take that back, nobody’s a pig.”
“That Demetri guy seems like one.” I gauge my mother’s expression. Watch her for the slightest hint of infatuation.
“Again, nobody is a pig, Skyla.” Her eyes pop as she wields the credit card over to the cashier.
I study the weird snowsuit Mom coerced me into purchasing. Green and purple plaid with matching pants and jacket. It’s ugly. And, unfortunately for Mom, it’s almost four hundred dollars worth of ugly. I tried to talk her into a cute short white jacket with a fur lined hood and these ultra tight pants, but she said it was a mud magnet, and I’d instantly regret it. Somehow I find that doubtful. Truthfully, I’m regretting the sensible woodcutter attire she’s just invested in that actually has enough room in it for both me and a woodcutter.
We head outside to the brisk cold air and find a table where we can plunk our junk. Having an outdoor mall in the middle of the frozen tundra that is Paragon has to be the worse architectural innovation imaginable. I bet someone just like Tad approved the endeavor to save a dollar on construction costs.
“What’s on your mind?” Mom asks, pulling on a pair of gloves.
“Tad.” I dig a half smile into my cheek. “You. What is going on with you and Demetri?” I whisper so Mia and Melissa won’t hear.
“Nothing,” she whispers back. “He’s an old friend from way back when.”
“Did Dad know him?” I hold my breath, waiting for an answer.
Her eyes cut across the expanse of the shopping center as though she were looking for someone.
“Of course, he knew him. Everyone knew Demetri.”
I want to say it isn’t true. That Dad could never have known someone so demented and twisted, but, then again, apparently he knew Tad.
“So, what did Dad think of him?”
“Demetri?” She jolts back to reality—surprised by the fact we’re still carrying on a conversation about him. “Oh, I don’t know,” she scoffs with irritation. “Your father never liked anyone he labeled as a potential admirer.”
“A potential threat,” I correct.
“There was never any threat, either real or imagined. He just didn’t like other men hanging around. So, Demetri and I decided we wouldn’t be friends again until later.” She looks up surprised as though she were shocked that she let the last few words trickle from her lips. “You know, like in a nursing home if we made it.” She stops trying to stuff herself into her gloves, and yanks them off in frustration. “It’s you I want an explanation from.”
“Me?” I try to retrace my steps with Demetri. If Mia and Melissa didn’t tag along, I would have spilled the beans about everything, right down to the stone freaking altar.
“Yes, you,” her words cut in with a little too much aggression. “What in the hell was that kiss about on Christmas Eve? You know, with you and Logan.”
“Oh, that.” I relax back in my seat surprised to see both Mia and Melissa have ceased their own conversation to pry into ours—damn gossips. “I guess he thought I was dead. He’s overly touchy feely that way. Anyway, I really didn’t think too much about it.” I still feel that kiss in my sleep.
She penetrates me with a look of doubt, like she’s not really buying it, as though there were more to the story, and I was slow to fess up. In my mind we’re back to the stone altar. Once again I’d love to bowl over her world with stories of Logan holding a blade over my flesh like I was a fish he were about to gut.
“No,” she shakes her head, “that was a loaded kiss, and by loaded, I mean with passion. That boy still has very real feelings for you.”
“They went to the bathroom together during Holden’s party.” Mia points out, accusingly.
“I noted that too,” Mom nods into me as if to denounce my claim.
“OK, you’re over analyzing the situation. The truth is,” I bow my head for effect, “I’m having a problem with Logan. I can’t shake him, he’s like a stalker or something.” And I was only kidding when I said it to his face but Mom will probably haul me down to the station to get a restraining order just so she can have Demetri hold her through the trauma of it all.
“I heard Logan talking to his dad while you were taking a shower with his brother,” Melissa chimes in. Her mouth moves exactly like Drake’s, and it’s a little unnerving. And for God’s sake, do they both think Logan and Gage are brothers? Are they apprised of nothing Oliver related that is factual? “He said something about being the last person you were with.”
“Oh, that.” Shit.
Stupid—stupid Logan. I should knee him in the balls just for being himself.
“Skyla,” Mom laughs, “what were you doing with Logan?”
“It was…it was raining…oh, I don’t really remember. I…”
“Skyla, you cannot be OK with this,” Mom’s eyes spring wide. “Being with both brothers is just wrong.”
I dart a look to Mia to shut her up before she does something stupid like utter Marshall’s name.
“I’m not with Logan. I’m exclusively with Gage, and they’re not brothers. Technically—”
“About Gage,” Mom averts her eyes as she says his name, “what is up with him holding this new girl’s hand?”
“And stop saying he’s friendly,” Mia interjects. “That’s bullshit.”
“Mia,” Mom snips.
“I can’t control who he’s nice to.” OK, this is getting ugly, fast, and it’s making me look like the clueless girlfriend, once again. Thank you, Chloe, for ruining my day without even being in it.
“Skyla,” Mom leans in secretively, “do you and Gage have, you know, one of those, open relationships?” She says open like it’s a dirty word and in this case it so would be.
“No!” I push back my seat in disgust. “Absolutely not. We are one hundred percent committed to one another. We’re serious as serious can be without sealing the deal, in fact, we’re already practically engaged.” Are we? Technically, no, but yes. I think.
“Well,” Mom blows backwards. Her cheeks turn an unnatural shade of pink. “I didn’t realize. I mean, I knew you were serious but I had no clue you were talking marriage,” she sings that last part. Great. “If this is official, I want to have the Olivers over and discuss a five year plan. That’s what you’re thinking, right?”
“Right,” I say, stupidly.
She shakes her head with delight. Her imagination has already taken flight. I can totally tell she’s embroiled with wedding details that seventeen-year old me could really care less about. That and the fact Gage already told me we’d marry in a courthouse.
The vision that Marshall gave of me walking towards Logan on a petal-strewn path comes to mind. Great. Maybe she can plan that wedding.
Only that one, I can guarantee, will never happened.
Unless, of course, that’s how I kill him—spear him in the side with the sprit sword once I make it down the aisle.
Now that, I like.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Let It Snow
I try not to let the fact it’s pouring down rain outside, or the fact Holden and Drake are passing condoms back and forth like trading cards at the kitchen table, get to me.
I’m going away for an entire week with Gage! Of course, Logan and an entire group of people, I wish I never knew, are going too, but still—Gage. Mainland sans Mom and Tad will be heaven. Plus, we will totally be staying at a hotel, well, lodge, but still, that could be exactly where our first time vision comes to fruition.
“What kind of school injects a field trip right in the middle of a holiday?” Tad balks, storming into the room with Mom hot on his heels.
“New Year’s is hardly a holiday,” she protests. “Besides, I spoke to Mr. Dudley and they have this whole murder mystery thing planned for New Years Eve.”
Sounds perfectly deadly. I make a face as I wait for my toast.
“See this, Lizbeth?” Tad collapses a hand in Holden and Drake’s direction. “This is how boys bond.”
“Over prophylactics?” I ask. And, what’s the point of Drake having any? Maybe he really doesn’t know where babies come from.
“What?” Tad marches over and picks up a light blue square and examines it as Drake scrambles to slide them back in his bag. “Shit!” Tad’s eyes bug out.
“What did you think they were doing?” Mom asks out of curiosity.
“Table football! I thought they were playing table football.” He drops the package like it was on fire and Holden slaps his hand over it. “This is exactly why the school has no business conducting vacations. The family should be skiing, then there would be no use for things like… like this!” He points over to the condom that Holden wands like a prize. “They pass those things out like Halloween candy at school. I bet you can line up, get your STD’s checked by the time lunch is over, and still sneak in a quickie in the hall.”
“Oh, Tad,” Mom groans. “Boys, do not even think of using those.” She glides by. “Sex at your age is overrated.” She nods as though her words had the power to stave off sexual encounters for the next several years.
“You’re right,” Holden quips. “Although, I hear if you double up on partners, the ratings skyrocket.”
“Holden!” Mom barks. Both she and Tad are staring at him with horrified expressions.
I sort of like Holden taking the edge off things around here, namely me.
“I wouldn’t really know,” Holden shrugs. “I just believe what Skyla tells me.”
“You’re sick,” I say, without missing a beat. I take back the only nice thought I’ve ever had about him.
“Alright, I give.” He belches out an octave that could rival a jungle drum. “We all know the only one that uses those things around here is Drake.” Holden leaves the room after his proclamation.
It would have almost been funny if Drake could have wiped the guilty expression from his face.
***
The ferry ride over is magical. Gage and I sit up top in the same spot we were in when we headed to the mainland a few weeks ago. I begged Brielle to stonewall Chloe down below by making her go over cheers. Chloe is a serious cheer-bot. I’ve never seen anyone so hardcore. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she cared about cheer more than she does about Gage.
“What’s on your mind?” His words come out in hot bites right into my ear.
I’m sure as hell not going to say Chloe.
“You and me.” Not really a lie.
Marshall comes up the stairwell and waves over at us, offers me a private smile in the process.
Just great.
“We need to figure out a way to get some alone time,” I whisper, watching my breath crystallize in a hard ball of steam.
“The guys and I worked out a system where we each get a night alone in the room.”
My mouth falls open.
“That is beyond brilliant! So that means me and you…” I want to say something, tag it with something that emphatically implies the obvious, but don’t.
“We can figure it out.” He nuzzles into me with the tip of his icy nose.
“I love you,” I bleat it out warm and tender into his lips.
He greets me with a hot kiss, it warms me from the inside, sends an explosive charge down to my toes.
A soft tap lands on the top of my head and I look up.
Marshall pulls his gloves on after swatting the two of us over the head with them.
“I’m here to supervise not look pretty,” he manufactures a smile. “If you’re planning on bunking up, the two of you can forget it. Ms. Messenger, I have strict orders and a sturdy fifty dollar bill in my pocket from your stepfather to ensure a chaste environment while you’re in my care.” Of course, you’re welcome in my room—I can best observe your chastity there, in the event you should choose to lose it. He gives a mischievous grin.
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