I realized Dyce was staring at me. “Anyway, I’m fine now, although things could have gotten critical if you hadn’t showed up.” I was babbling like I always did when nervous. “Not many guys would bother helping someone they don’t even know. Thanks for the rescue and for not actually killing Warren.”
“He got lucky.” Dyce arched his brows wickedly.
He wasn’t the only one, I secretly thought, feeling as if Sharayah was momentarily in control as she tilted my head and smiled in a slow, seductive way. The logical part of me (let’s call her Amber) struggled to gain control, but exhaustion made it hard to focus. I wasn’t sure what I was thinking anymore. This body was responding to Dyce—pulse racing, head light, heat surging as if my skin were on fire. Amber warned: Walk away from the hot guy. But reckless Sharayah ignored her.
Dyce wasn’t helping things either, staring at me with an intensity that went beyond casual flirting. So I did what any normal girl with normal desires would do when stuck in the hormone-raging body of adventurous spring breaker.
I studied him right back.
His thick lashes were unusually long and curly for a guy, drawing me in into his gray-green eyes, sea-deep with flickers of sun shining across the surface. I found myself wondering what he was thinking. Was he attracted to Sharayah? Not me, of course. He had no idea a high schooler lurked beneath this mature body. My inner Amber screamed for me to walk away before I was swept up into a storm of trouble.
But trouble sounded kind of fun.
“Do you live around here?” I asked him.
“No.” He shook his head. “Just on vacation.”
“Spring break?”
“You could call it that, although I don’t get into all the partying.”
I started to say “Me too,” until I realized that would be Amber speaking and out of character for Sharayah.
“Too bad,” I said, flashing what I hoped was a sexy smile. “My friends and I came here to have a good time, so we’ll be doing lots of partying.”
“It didn’t look like you were having a good time when I first saw you.”
“I was an idiot for believing Warren. Thank God you got rid of him—but how did you know? Are you psychic?”
“Nope. I heard you scream while I was out collecting driftwood. So I dropped my wood and ran right over.”
“You lost your driftwood?” I asked.
“No sweat. I can always find more. I hadn’t gathered any decent pieces anyway.”
I considered asking why he collected driftwood but that somehow seemed too personal—and my libido was already dancing with danger being so close to him. Down, girl, I thought to Sharayah. Flirting was harmless, but nothing else was allowed. Eli was the one and only guy for me.
The problem was … Eli wasn’t here.
Dyce was.
My skin tingled as my thoughts raced in the wrong direction. I’m always going the wrong way at the worst times, I thought nervously. I stared down at my hands, clutching them together so I wouldn’t give in to my (very bad!) desire to reach out and touch Dyce. I’d never met anyone like him. Danger and mystery swirled around him, as subtle and seductive as a sea breeze. Deep inside me something wanton and wild rattled the cage bars, eager to break free.
“I have to leave now,” I said firmly, more to myself than Dyce.
“Can I walk you somewhere? It’s getting dark.”
“There are plenty of lights, so I can find my way.” Far away from temptation, I thought.
“Still, I don’t feel right letting you go off alone.”
“Warren wouldn’t dare come back—you scared him so bad he’s probably left town. I’ll be fine. I don’t want to keep you from your, um, driftwood any longer. I have to go find Mauve and Sadie. They’re probably waiting back at the car and wondering where I am—especially since I still have the car keys.” I held out the key ring.
“Go on then.” His smile, right into my eyes, increased my reluctance to let him go. He’d been so kind to me—a real hero. He said “good-bye” and started to turn.
“Wait!” My heart pounded as I stepped toward him.
“What is it, Sharayah?” The way he spoke her name rippled like music through my ears and into my heart.
“After everything you’ve done, I should do something for you—a reward, or maybe buy you dinner,” I babbled. “I mean, you may have saved my life.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
“But I want to thank you. At least let me buy you a drink.”
“As much as I’d love to accept, I can’t. I need to return to Emmy,” Dyce said with a tip of his cap.
“Oh … I understand.”
Emmy. Of course Dyce had a girlfriend—a great guy like him wouldn’t be single. And it wasn’t like I was without commitments, either.
I reached out to wave good-bye but Dyce misunderstood, clasping my hand to shake it. When our fingers met, I held on—his firm touch was stirring up my willful emotions, dousing the fire of logical Amber. The way he met my eyes, his gaze compelling and his faint dimples enhancing his smile, hinted at mysteries of “what could be” between us.
Not that I was flirting with him or anything.
I was just being polite and showing my gratitude, like anyone would do after being rescued. This had nothing to do with passion, desire, longing …
Get a grip! I ordered myself. Dyce was too old for me—even if I didn’t already have Eli. And it would be unfair to risk Sharayah’s heart on some guy who already had a girlfriend. She wasn’t here to make important decisions, so it was up to me to protect both of us.
Besides, Dyce was going back to his Emmy.
And I had a temporary life to resume.
Still, I couldn’t help but wonder … would I ever see him again?
My thoughts were all about Dyce as I retraced my steps down the path, replaying what he’d said and what I’d said back—which now seemed so lame that I burned with shame. What had I been thinking? Drooling at him and practically begging him to let me buy him a drink. Did mature college girls say stuff like that? I didn’t think so.
Good thing I’d probably never see him again.
As I reached a shopping area bordering the beach, I recognized Sadie’s dark braids. She was moving briskly despite carrying bulging shopping bags.
“Sadie!” I called but my voice carried away in a salty breeze and she didn’t even glance my way as she entered an artsy boutique.
So I hurried after her.
The store, called Life’s a Beach, displayed summery hats, T-shirts, swimsuits and colorful beach towels. Wind chimes jangled as I stepped in, squeezing past shelves crammed with cheesy beach souvenirs, from personalized key chains to glow-in-the-dark flip-flops. The narrow aisles were congested like rush-hour highways, so it was slow going while I searched for Sadie. Finally I spotted her—behind an inflated giant beach ball, weighed down with three enormous shopping bags.
Moving toward her, I started to call her name—then stopped with my mouth frozen open. Sadie had been adjusting the straps on her bag with one hand, but her other hand had snaked out toward a rhinestone watch. There had been a quick flash of fingers, like a magician’s disappearing act. Now you see the watch—now you don’t.
Before I could decide how to react, or even what to think, Sadie caught my reflection in a mirror on a glass counter.
“Rayah!” She whirled around to face me, scowling. “Where have you been? It’s about time you showed up.”
“Time … um … ” I glanced at the tray of sparkling rhinestone watches in their rainbow reds and purples; they were pretty but made of tacky plastic and priced under ten dollars. How time flies—especially with Sadie’s quick-fingered help.
But was I sure what I’d witnessed? Why would Sadie bother to steal? She wore ultra-chic clothes, kept her hair and nails manicured and smelled of costly perfume. She had no reason to steal a cheap watch.
“I hope you have a good explanation,” Sadie accused me, her ruby-glossed
lips pursed angrily.
“Me? But you just—”
“Where have you been?” She didn’t wait for me to answer. “I’ve been back to the car twice, walked the beach at least a hundred times and even checked the restrooms, which were seriously gross. I’ve been looking all over!”
“You have?” I shook my head, confusion making my head ache. Nearby, a clerk with pierced eyebrows narrowed her black eyes and watched me closely, as if my overall windblown, anxious attitude set off her suspicions. Ha! She had the wrong girl. But I couldn’t rat out Sadie.
Sadie’s shopping bags swayed, her hands waving as she talked excitedly. “Mauve said we’d meet back at the car but no one was there. I planned to leave my bags there, then go out to eat. But I couldn’t find anyone and carrying all these bags was killing my arms. So I called Mauve and she said she was still with Alonzo and would hook up with us later. She told me you had the keys to the car and that you’d be waiting there. Only you weren’t.”
“Sorry, but I’ve had some … um … problems.” I hesitated.
How much should I tell her? She’d been clear about her feelings for Warren and would be hurt. Worse—she might not believe me. And there was the whole shoplifting thing, too. Both topics I didn’t have the energy to discuss in the middle of the crowded store.
“Where exactly is Mauve?” I asked.
“Some sushi restaurant.” Sadie waved her hand, a turquoise and gold ring I’d never seen before sparkling from her pinky finger. Was it shoplifted, too?
“Oh, so she did go there,” I said with a nod. “I thought she and Alonzo changed their plans.”
“You thought wrong. Who told you that?”
“Um … I don’t remember.” Inside, I seethed—more lies from Warren the scumbag. “Anyway, I’m really sorry you couldn’t get into the car. But I’m here now, so let’s go put your stuff away … unless you’re not finished shopping.”
“There’s nothing for me in this tourist trap.”
“Sure there isn’t something you want to buy?” Or pay for, I thought.
“No. I’m done shopping—for today anyway,” she added with a laugh. She patted my arm and gave me a little push. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
Reluctantly, I followed her out the door, the sound of wind chimes echoing in my head.
“Mauve wants us to join her later at a dance club called Revolution,” Sadie told me as we walked to the street. I was now carrying two of her bags.
“I don’t have enough energy for standing. Dancing? I don’t think so.” A truck whizzed by us, stinking of exhaust and whooshing up a breeze that tangled my hair.
“Have you eaten dinner yet?” Sadie asked.
“Dinner? I can’t even remember lunch.”
“This is not the time to diet. You’re already too skinny, anyway. Let’s pick up something to eat.”
But as we neared the car, it was guilt that was gnawing at me more than hunger. In the store, I hadn’t tried to stop her. Did that make me an accomplice? It wasn’t too late to do the right thing. All I had to do was tell her I knew she stole the watch and that she had to return it. But I didn’t know her that well and was afraid of how she’d react. What would the real Sharayah do in this situation?
In that split-second, a window in my mind opened to reveal a memory. Not my own, but one belonging to Sharayah. She’d been staying the night in Sadie’s private dorm room while Mauve had a “friend” over; she was lying on Sadie’s couch, a thick textbook propped on her chest as she tried to study. But her eyelids felt heavy and the textbook even heavier, so she gave in to an afternoon nap. She was just settled into a relaxing sleep when Sadie entered the room.
Not in the mood to talk, Sharayah kept her eyes closed, feigning sleep. She listened to Sadie’s footsteps, expecting her to flop onto her bed for a study session or tackle the homework on her desk. But the footsteps paused, then moved in the opposite direction—toward the couch.
Everything I saw, heard and felt came from inside Sharayah’s body, as if we’d merged together in memory. Together we lay still, listening to Sadie’s soft breaths, so curious now we peeked through the wispy hairs covering our face to watch Sadie bend over. When Sadie stood, I recognized the black purse in her hands—the same purse that I’d found a shocking amount of money in. Sadie snapped opened Sharayah’s wallet. She chuckled softly as she flipped through green bills, plucking out a few and slipping them into her own pocket. And all the while Sharayah and I gritted our teeth, silently seething with wounded rage.
The memory faded to reality, yet I continued to sting with feelings of betrayal.
Sadie didn’t just steal from stores.
She stole from her friends, too.
Despite this new insight into Sadie, I couldn’t hate her. I wanted to—she definitely deserved it—but she was just so darned sweet. Besides, I was playing the role of Sharayah, who was aware of Sadie’s thefts yet continued to hang out with her.
“How do you feel about Mexican?” Sadie asked as she started the car engine and waited to merge onto the street.
I shrugged, not really caring. I should have been hungry, but body-jumping had my inner system out of whack and it was hard to gauge ordinary things like appetite. “Whatever you want to eat is fine.”
“Except sushi,” she teased.
“Definitely not that,” I said, unable to resist smiling back.
Minutes later, we pulled into a parking lot surrounded by palm trees and entered a crowded, adobe-style restaurant with a cactus theme both inside and outside.
My real body loved a variety of food in large amounts. Bean burritos, tacos, enchiladas … hmmm. And once I got a spicy whiff, a volcano of appetite burst inside me and I ate breakfast, lunch, dinner and every meal for tomorrow. Afterwards, I was so stuffed I could hardly move or keep my eyes open. All I wanted was to curl up in a warm bed and sleep. So when we returned to the car and Sadie slipped into the driver’s seat, I begged her to take me back to our so-called condo.
“You actually want to go back to the crappo condo?”
“Where else would we spend the night? On the beach?”
“That could be fun,” she teased. “But I’m hoping for something much more interesting.”
“Like what?” I asked cautiously.
“Mauve hinted she’ll stay with Alonzo, at the house he rented with Warren and some other friends. I’m planning on seeing a lot more of Warren, too.”
“No! Not him!” I exclaimed before I could edit myself.
“Why not?” Sadie turned to me with a dangerous glint to her eyes. “Are you after Warren for yourself?”
“The total opposite.” I shook my head emphatically. “I don’t want you to get hurt by going off with some guy you barely know.”
“So says the girl wearing a guy’s shirt last night.”
“That’s not the same … ”
“You’re such a hypocrite—but your concern for me is sweet. Only trust me—I know what I’m doing with Warren.” The light turned green and Sadie hit the gas pedal hard, jolting us forward.
“Be careful,” I told her.
“I’m always a careful driver.”
But I wasn’t talking about driving.
Sighing, I leaned against the seat and closed my eyes.
“Don’t you dare go to sleep now,” Sadie said, slapping my shoulder. “We have a big night ahead of us. You need to find some guy for yourself, then none of us will have to stay in the crappo condo.”
“I don’t care where I sleep as long as it happens soon.”
“It’s not even seven yet!” Sadie complained. “It’s like a law that we have to party till the morning on our first night of spring break.”
“I’ll pass. I’m too tired.”
“Who are you? And what have you done with the real Sharayah?”
Shock ripped through me. Had she guessed my secret?
Then Sadie grinned and I realized she’d been joking.
“Please, please, please R
ayah, come with me tonight,” she persisted. “It won’t be as fun without you—and there’s going to be karaoke.”
“So?”
“You love karaoke! And I love rooting for you from the audience. After you sing everyone always tells me you should be on American Idol. You could be as famous as Mariah or Britney if you had the guts to go out and make it big.”
I smiled to myself, thinking of the Voice Choice contest.
Still, I shook my head. “I’m too wiped to go anywhere tonight.”
“Since when do you choose sleeping over partying? Oh, I get it now.” Sadie gave me a look oozing with sympathy. “Here I’m rattling on about my new guy when yours is back in San Jose. Are you missing James?”
“Who?” I furrowed my brow. “Oh! James.”
Sadie reached across the seat to give me a playful slap on my arm. “You really must be tired if you can’t remember your boyfriend’s name.”
“Completely exhausted,” I said with a yawn.
“Would you be better if you called him? Use my phone.”
“Thanks,” I said, jumping at this opportunity.
When she handed me the phone, I pretended I was calling James (who I wouldn’t recognize if he plopped down in my lap!), but covertly checked for voice or text messages from Eli. Unfortunately, there were none. And when I tried his number again, I got his voicemail. Damn, what was going on with him?
“No luck,” I told Sadie as I returned her phone. “But I’m too tired to talk anyway. I can hardly lift the phone. I’ll be good to go tomorrow.”
“I’ll hold you to that. I’ll cover for you when I see everyone.” She stared out the windshield and gave a dreamy sigh. “It’ll be so great to see Warren again.”
Dead Girl Dancing Page 11
